I take a seat on a bench outside the Mercer Campanile, which lets out ten melancholy chimes.
I called Brynn earlier to see if she was around, but she had to cover a shift this morning at the print shop in campus town. I didn’t tell her about Talon. I will later, but it didn’t seem right to drop it so casually via text.
I tried to kill some time in the design lab earlier, working ahead on an upcoming project due at the end of the month, but I couldn’t focus and every configuration I designed paled in comparison to my normal work.
Leaning back, I stare at the picturesque PVU campus, which for two short months of my life was heaven on earth.
I think about Talon’s mother, her threats and her manipulations.
If Talon and I would’ve been given a chance to discuss this on our own, I imagine we would’ve reached the same decision—we would have agreed to go our separate ways … for now. But the fact that that decision was made for us the way that it was is a fact I can’t get over.
I keep replaying my conversation with Camilla in my mind, over and over, each time growing angrier, each time wanting to tell Talon the truth.
But I can’t do that.
He needs to sign, he needs to embrace his future without me because he’s going to do amazing things with it.
I just wish we could’ve had more time together.
Chapter 42
Talon
She isn’t in the design lab.
Or the library.
She isn’t in Meyers Commons or the armory.
I’ve walked the campus for hours …
She isn’t here.
“Just go ask him,” I hear a woman whispering from behind me.
“I don’t want to bother him,” a guy whispers back.
“I’m sure he won’t mind …” she argues. “Just ask him to take a quick selfie with you …”
I glance behind and find a baby-faced high school kid and his mom staring my way. The guest badges hanging from their neck mean they’re touring the campus. The kid freezes when we lock eyes. Either he’s starstruck or shy as hell.
I’ve never been a fan of selfies and the last thing I want to do is be bothered about a picture from some kid who looks like he’s probably going to end up with MIT instead of PVU, but then I think about Irie and that silly little speech she gave me about being someone’s hero someday.
“You want a pic?” I ask. “Give me your phone.”
“What?” The kid’s eyes widen and he glances around him, as if I’m talking to someone else.
“Get up there, Ronnie, take a pic with Talon Gold!” His mom shoos him toward me.
“Come on, Mom. You need to get in here too,” I say, forcing a smile that takes all the energy I have.
She does a happy squeal before joining her son and they each hand me their phones.
I snap two pics and send them on their way.
I never would have done that shit before Irie.
She’s changed me for the better, in ways I never could have anticipated.
Just wish she were here to see it …
Nevertheless, I keep searching, and I won’t stop until I find her.
Chapter 43
Irie
I bookmark five Malibu rentals and fill out a handful of inquiry forms online. One of these weekends I’m going to have to drive up there and tour them in person, but for now I settle for photos.
I thought apartment hunting was going to be a good way to focus on my future, I thought making my plans all the more real would help me accept my fate.
But it only made me miss him more because every time I found something I thought he’d like—a built-in ice maker, a trendy bar down the street—I realized I wouldn’t be able to tell him about it and that he’d never be able to see these places; not in screenshots, not in real life.
It’s funny how life surprises you sometimes. Never in a million years did I think I’d have agreed to a date with Talon. Never in a billion years did I think I’d fall in love with him.
He wasn’t who I thought he was.
He was so much more …
Pushing my thoughts aside, I keep searching for the perfect place to call home.
The rental market in Malibu is slim pickings and rent is astronomical. Most of the places that claim they have ocean views only boast the kind of ocean views you find when standing on your tiptoes, leaning over your tiny balcony railing.
But I’d take that over Iron Cross, Missouri a million times over.
Kira said I could borrow some furniture from her stock until I’m able to get some things of my own. Her only caveat was that I professionally style everything—which is a given—so she can have her photographer snap pictures for her social media.
The campanile chimes twelve times.