Maps to You #Wattys2016

Chapter One

Four Days Before

I COULD ALWAYS START this book with the classic line: it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I could try and get away with it, without throwing myself into a whirlwind of copyright infringement issues, because at this moment, that's exactly how it felt.

I clamped my hand tightly around his warm and rough one, savoring his fleeting touch for as long as time can let me. Despite how chilly it was in here, I practically took off my left mitten and held his hand, too afraid it'll be forgotten, erased from my memory. I internally sighed, not wanting to divert his attention to my despair.

"Do you have your phone?"

"For the fifth time, yes, love." He flashed me a beautiful smile to ease my worries. It did not work, surprisingly.

"Did you make sure you took all those socks and hats? Europe is cold," I said breathlessly, trying to tame the cracks in my voice. His glove-clad hand squeezed mine as he replied, "I made sure."

"Do you have your—" He abruptly stopped walking, dropping his backpack to the floor and turning to me.

"I'm gonna miss how much you worry about me." Once he said that, I couldn't hold it in anymore; I hugged him tightly and let my eyes leak a few betraying tears, and I worried the wet blotch might make him cold. Crazy how an airport is as freezing as the weather outside. It was the worst of times.

His warmth soothed me; no matter how much I was shivering and rubbing my hand on my leg, his hugs always engulfed me with warmth and love.

"I don't want to cry, Elliot," I sniffled, "I just want to kiss you goodbye and leave you with  a smile on your face." I raised my head from his chest to prove my point with a sad smile. He pecked my lips and loosened his grip around me.

"I'll call everyday. And if I don't call, I'll text you. We'll make this happen, alright? You and me," he glanced at the promise ring in my engulfed hand then gazed into my eyes.

"I love you," he added.

"I love you," I said back, my eyes glossy. Willing myself not to cry, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. For a second, I almost forgot that I was here, at an airport, saying my farewells to my boyfriend of two years. When our lips parted, his hazel eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled down at me. It was the best of times.

I don't care if Charles Dickinson's ghost is going to haunt me. That line will always describe every situation I'll ever be put into.

"When you land you'll give me a call, okay? Don't they have those red telephone booths? You can use that to call me."

He laughed loudly, shaking his head at me.
"That's really stereotypical of you."

"I can't help it. That's all I imagine when I think of London. And that London Eye, oh! We should totally go there together one day! It would be the best trip, I could co—"

"Flight 006, Terminal A. Flight 006 at Terminal A." The intercom crackled, bursting my bubble, and ending any plans I had of visiting Elliot.

"We'll plan it together, Bella," his deep voice brought a small smile to my face, and I nodded back, knowing his words were true and genuine.

"Together," I whispered before we kissed one last time, relishing his proximity for what would be my final chance at seeing him in a long time. We said our 'I love you's' then I set him free, watching his back retreat and eventually enter the terminal to his plane. I finally let out a shaky sigh and fisted my hands, forcing myself not to run after him for one last hug. I tried to busy myself with thinking about Charles Dickinson as I rapidly blinked the tears away, but it wasn't working. With every step he took away with his squeaky sneakers, the sounds of his shoes dimmed and so did my hopes of him staying.