Read Online Beautiful Things Never Last by Steph Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steph Campbell
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what it is.
“I’m sorry. The time change is killer, you know?” I say it, but it’s not the entire truth. Quinn is doi ng this amazing thing, and I’m happy for her. But part of me feels like she’s figuring out just how much she’s capable of—without me—and that maybe I just need to let her do that. She deserves it. She needs to realize just how freaking amazing she is for once without someone telling her. I know all of that, but the thought of it still terrifies the hell out of me. I want it for her, but selfishly, I don’t want her to stop needing me. It’s why I keep our conversations short. I don’t want her worrying about me, or what’s going on here, and it’s just weird knowing that she’s all the way over there, doing life changing things and I’m just…here. “What time is it there?”
Quinn yawns, “Just after three. I set an alarm so I could try to catch you when you got home. I’ve been getting pretty intimate with your voicemail, lately, so I figured I had to do something different . ”
“I’m glad you did,” I say. Sometimes, the changes in Quinn catch me off guard. The Quinn I met in high school wouldn’t have planned ahead like this. And she did it for me. Maybe my stupid-ass insecurities over her finding her own way are bullshit after-all.
“What are you doing?” she asks. I can picture her stretching out in the small room she described t o me when we last talked. Alone.B athed in gorgeous moonlight.
“Not a whole lot. Cleaning some lenses. Eating a bite,” I say. I want to tell her about the offer on the photos, but I don’t want to spoil any news she may have, or take away from it. I want her to have her moment.
“Ah, did you find some hot new thing to cook for you?” she says with a light laugh.
“Hardly,” I say. “I’ve turned into a vegan since you left.” I stir the noodles again, but still haven’t brought myself to take a bite of them.
The line goes quiet. I can practically hear Italian crickets chirping on the other end.
“Ben,” she says stoically. “You know we don’t joke about serious things like that.”
We both dissolve into hysterics, and I know that she’s on the other side of the world wiping happy tears from her eyes, and that’s all I need right now.
I remember some of the crazy things Quinn has gotten me to eat since I met her, and I’d take any one of them over this right now. Even those early dates where I think she was trying to get a rise out of me by getting me to eat things like sweet breads and burgers as big as my head. I did it because I was crazy about her and I loved that she challenged the hell out of me and never stopped surprising me.
And even from the other side of the world, when I can’t stand to think about the space between us, she’s surprising me. But I swear she needs me a little less every time we talk. She’s finding th at part of herself that her parents took away from her, and I just hope there’s still room for me when she gets back.
The first time I ever considered texting Quinn I tapped my thumb on the send button of my phone like I was doing Morse code, while I debated whether or not to go through with pressing it or not. It shouldn’t have been that friggin’ hard. In fact, it should’ve been nothing but straightforward. She was just a girl, and it was just a text message, right? She had told me to call her. So, why did her maybe-rejection cause me to have paralysis of the thumb? There was something about Quinn, though , that made different. She had me thinking she was such a hard
“I’m sorry. The time change is killer, you know?” I say it, but it’s not the entire truth. Quinn is doi ng this amazing thing, and I’m happy for her. But part of me feels like she’s figuring out just how much she’s capable of—without me—and that maybe I just need to let her do that. She deserves it. She needs to realize just how freaking amazing she is for once without someone telling her. I know all of that, but the thought of it still terrifies the hell out of me. I want it for her, but selfishly, I don’t want her to stop needing me. It’s why I keep our conversations short. I don’t want her worrying about me, or what’s going on here, and it’s just weird knowing that she’s all the way over there, doing life changing things and I’m just…here. “What time is it there?”
Quinn yawns, “Just after three. I set an alarm so I could try to catch you when you got home. I’ve been getting pretty intimate with your voicemail, lately, so I figured I had to do something different . ”
“I’m glad you did,” I say. Sometimes, the changes in Quinn catch me off guard. The Quinn I met in high school wouldn’t have planned ahead like this. And she did it for me. Maybe my stupid-ass insecurities over her finding her own way are bullshit after-all.
“What are you doing?” she asks. I can picture her stretching out in the small room she described t o me when we last talked. Alone.B athed in gorgeous moonlight.
“Not a whole lot. Cleaning some lenses. Eating a bite,” I say. I want to tell her about the offer on the photos, but I don’t want to spoil any news she may have, or take away from it. I want her to have her moment.
“Ah, did you find some hot new thing to cook for you?” she says with a light laugh.
“Hardly,” I say. “I’ve turned into a vegan since you left.” I stir the noodles again, but still haven’t brought myself to take a bite of them.
The line goes quiet. I can practically hear Italian crickets chirping on the other end.
“Ben,” she says stoically. “You know we don’t joke about serious things like that.”
We both dissolve into hysterics, and I know that she’s on the other side of the world wiping happy tears from her eyes, and that’s all I need right now.
I remember some of the crazy things Quinn has gotten me to eat since I met her, and I’d take any one of them over this right now. Even those early dates where I think she was trying to get a rise out of me by getting me to eat things like sweet breads and burgers as big as my head. I did it because I was crazy about her and I loved that she challenged the hell out of me and never stopped surprising me.
And even from the other side of the world, when I can’t stand to think about the space between us, she’s surprising me. But I swear she needs me a little less every time we talk. She’s finding th at part of herself that her parents took away from her, and I just hope there’s still room for me when she gets back.
The first time I ever considered texting Quinn I tapped my thumb on the send button of my phone like I was doing Morse code, while I debated whether or not to go through with pressing it or not. It shouldn’t have been that friggin’ hard. In fact, it should’ve been nothing but straightforward. She was just a girl, and it was just a text message, right? She had told me to call her. So, why did her maybe-rejection cause me to have paralysis of the thumb? There was something about Quinn, though , that made different. She had me thinking she was such a hard
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