Chapter thirty-three

His voice is a whisper. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

I shut my door with precision silence. “I’m not on a final warning, and you’ve already been expelled. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know.” Josh is genuinely worried. “Maybe it could go on your permanent record and keep Dartmouth from accepting you?”

I smile. “My parents have already sent them the first tuition cheque.”

His knees weaken. And then rest of his body follows. I guide him onto the edge of my bed. “Do you mean?” he says. “Are you…?”

“I’m going to Dartmouth.”

Josh’s head drops into his hands. His whole body shakes. I sit beside him and press my head against his shoulder. Because I can again. He lifts his head, and his eyes shine with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just…really overwhelmed right now.”

“Me, too.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, Isla.”

“I know.” I take his freezing hands and rub them between mine, trying to warm them. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I doubted myself, and that made me doubt you. But you weren’t the problem. You were never the problem. I should have trusted you, but I didn’t, because I couldn’t trust myself.”

“But you do now? Trust yourself?”

“I’m…getting there. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s okay to be a blank canvas. Maybe it’s okay that my future is unknown. And maybe,” I say with another smile, “it’s okay to be inspired by the people who do know their future.”

“It goes both ways, you know.”

I link his icicle fingers through mine. “What does?”

“Artists are inspired by blank canvases.”

My smile grows wider.

“A blank canvas,” Josh continues, “has unlimited possibilities.”

I close my eyes, lean over, and kiss his cold lips. “Thank you.”

His shivering grows more severe.

I jump to my feet. “Oh, mon petit chou.” I pull out his arms from his snow-soaked coat. “I can’t believe you were waiting out there this whole time.”

His teeth chatter. “I-I would have waited all night.”

I hang up his coat inside my shower and return for his shirt. “This, too.” I tug it off, over his head. His skin is pale. Almost lavender-coloured. “And these.” I remove his shoes and socks, but his pants prove to be a challenge. They’re practically frozen to his legs. When they finally release, I topple over backwards.

He smiles through his shivers. “Not…quite…how I imagined…undressing with you again.”

I hang up his shirt and pants beside his coat to dry. Over my head, his socks and boxers go flying onto the shower floor. I laugh. He’s wrapped himself up inside my quilt, and only his face is peeking out.

“This doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me,” he says.

I laugh again.

Josh sweeps out a hand across the surface of my bed as a gesture for me to sit beside him, but the quilt catches on the manuscript. It knocks over on to the floor in a loud, crashing, never-ending nightmare. We freeze in horror. We listen for Nate. Nothing.

We smile at the miracle that has been granted to us.

I sit beside him. He scoots in towards me, but I pull back my head. “Don’t you want to know what I thought about your book first?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He laughs nervously. “Do I?”

“You know it’s good. You know it’s really, really good.”

His face disappears as his entire body slumps into the mound of blankets. “You can’t even begin to imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that.”

“I’ve always known you’re brilliant. And you’ve just proved it to the world.”

A hand pokes out from underneath the quilt. I squeeze it. “For what it’s worth?” he says. “You’d make a great editor someday. Everything you yelled at me was true.”

I look away from him in shame. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“No. I am. I’m sorry about so many things. And I’m especially sorry for…using your ex-girlfriend to fuel my own stupid insecurities. I want you to know that I don’t love this” – I gesture towards his manuscript, scattered across my hardwood – “because there’s less of her in it. Or more of me. I want you to know that I love it because it has you in it – the good parts and the ugly parts. I love you. I love all of you.”

He grips my hand harder. “Thank you.”

“The praise is a long time coming.” I rub my thumb against his index finger. “And I have so much more of it to give.”

“Tomorrow. Right now, I only want you.”

But my heart grows heavy again. “You mean today. Did you find out when your train leaves?”

“Isla.” He looks surprised. Like I should already know this. “I never bought a ticket.”

My breath catches. “What?”

“I’m not going to the Olympics. I came here for you.”

“Does…does that mean you’re staying?”

He scoots in closer. “Two weeks. Through the end of the games, if you’ll have me. But then I’m stuck in DC until June.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll have you!”

Josh smiles impishly. “Oh, you will?”

I shove him through the blankets. He topples over onto his side, laughing, pulling me down with him. He stares into my eyes. His smile fades. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I rub my arms against the chill. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’re cold.” He holds open the quilt. “Come here.”

I scoot forward into the blankets and sheets and pillows. Into him. The quilt falls against my back, enveloping me against his body. I press my cheek against his bare chest. He tightens his grip around me. We lie very, very still. The world is silent except for the steady beat of our hearts. After several minutes, I look up at him.

Josh stares back. His heartbeat quickens.

I slide upward until our noses are pressed against each other. I kiss the corner of his mouth, and I feel him smile as he kisses the corner of mine. His fingers trail down my back as he unzips my dress. He pulls it all the way down, past my ankles, and lets it drop onto the floor. He removes my bra and then my underwear.