20 Hours - Jack Gilinsky

hour 14; future

"So, we've talked about your deep dark past and your awful family and your college your being forced to go to, but we haven't really talked about your future," Jack looks me straight in the eye and says, "what do you see in your future?"

What do I see. What do I see? That's a good question Jack, I'll get back to you when I'm not busy spending the next 4 hours trying to memorize your face before I never see you again.

It was honestly weird being asked this question- or any question- that had to do with what I wanted. My parents had voiced loud and clear that my opinion wasn't really necessary in the scheme of how my life played out. They had their own idea of my life, graduate high school, go to UNO, graduate with a masters degree in Business management, take over their business, meet a nice (translation: wealthy) man and get married, have kids, and finally work myself into an early grave.

Sadly, that was not what I wanted with my life. I want to become a brain surgeon. I want to work at a hospital in the center of LA- where traffic is slow enough for me to get out of my car and walk to in-n-out and come back without even moving an inch- and save lives. I might meet someone along the way, sure. But from what my parents have shown me love isn't really all it's cracked up to be.

I want to be able to live on my own terms, buy a shitty apartment that smells like Chase's unwashed gym socks and be happy. I want to know for a fact that "it's just temporary" but end up staying there for the rest of my life because I don't find it remotely necessary to move anywhere else.

"I haven't given it much thought." I answer to Jack while shrugging.

"Come on, you have to know something, even if it's just one image you've imagined a few times, a sunset out of a bay window, a baby's hand wrapping around your pinkie finger, something." His eyes burn with curiosity and I'm almost tempted to keep the information hidden from him just to keep him writhing in this agony of not knowing.

"Well I do have this one image, during college I live in my off campus apartment with my boyfriend, it's early in the morning and we both wake up for classes. I untangle myself from him, a long night of sleep ends up with me entrapping myself in his arms and legs for warmth. I wake up first- which always makes me excited. I sneak into the kitchen wearing only his tshirt over my underwear, but it hits mid thigh so it basically looks like a dress. I start cooking us breakfast, eggs and bacon with coffee. The second he smells the coffee boiling he springs out of bed and encircles me in his arms again. He lifts me up and points me on the counter, standing in between my legs he kisses me ever so gently on the lips- like I'm a fragile porcelain doll- and tells me he loves me over and over again," Jack's eyes fall onto my mouth as I speak, captured by the words fluttering through my parted lips. Luckily, I decided to leave the part out that Jack- in this case- was said boyfriend and it was the morning after he returned from a tour.

God I need to get him out of my brain because his smell will only remain for 4 more hours.

"I image myself falling in love." Jack starts. I want him to continue, I imagine his words coming out like the sweet caramel that his voice is, I wait for innocent speech to flow from his pearly teeth, mesmerizing me with his delicate word choice.

But no more words fall from his thin cherry lips. His eyes are locked hesitantly on mine as he breathes ruggedly and out of rhythm. There is no way anything will interrupt this kiss this time. No way that I will not feel Jack's lips on mine. This is my turn to feel what falling in love is. It's my turn to know what it's like for someone to hold me like they're afraid of breaking me and kiss me like I might turn to dust if they put too much pressure on me.

I want to feel his firm grip on the small of my back, pulling me across the median that separates our two seats from one another. I want to finally run my fingers through his luxuriously shiny brown hair.

I feel something wet on my lap, and I think Jack does too because we both look down at the same time- ripping our gazes from each other and causing us to bump heads.

Jack and I had both spilled our water onto each other's laps (another movie moment might I add) and we were trying to sop up our own messes while apologizing for getting the other wet.

Soon enough our apologies fade into an eruption of laughs, many people turn their heads our direction and shush us before returning to their laptops or tablets.

Jack sighs loudly before looking me straight in the eye, "I'm sorry that this is going to be the last time we can see each other."

My heart bursts into a thousand pieces at his words, mostly because I know they're true. I know there's nothing either one of us could possibly do to make this work, no matter how much we want to make ourselves believe it.

I reach over the median and lay a lingering kiss on his cheek. Then he pulls me close into his body and holds me.

Neither of us speak, we just hold each other, likely feeling the same sense of helplessness.

I memorize the way his muscular arms tense against my skin, the feeling of his breath tickling my neck, the way our bodies mold together.

"Me too, Jack." I whisper into his shoulder and he tightens his grip on me.