"Tiff, I have to go." We were sitting on my bed in the dark, facing each other. My eyes searched his face, trying to memorize every detail. Gorgeous blue eyes, startling against tan skin, dark hair, falling a little in his face, lips, that I had kissed many did he have to leave?
"I'm going to miss you." I whispered, feeling tears starting to build, my resistance slipping, quickly. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry, what good would it do? But now, faced with the separation, with him leaving.I couldn't help it. I felt the first slip down, hot and bitter.
"Tiff, don't cry." He hated it when I cried.
"Sorry." I wiped my cheeks, trying to ignore the feeling of hopelessness rising inside me.
"I'll be back soon." He was lying, I knew it, and he knew it. It was all a lie. He was going on tour with the band, he was leaving behind this little town, and I couldn't go with him. He'd already graduated, he was free, and I was two long years away.
"No, you won't. Just go." I turned around, biting my lip to keep from crying. He just had to go, leave, go out my window and out of my life.
"Tiffany." His voice was serious, but low, I knew this was hard for him, too. His hand rested on my shoulder, urging me to turn around, to face him. When I did, I couldn't see him clearly, he was blurred beneath my tears. He pulled me to him, to his chest, and I began to cry, softly, loving his touch, but soon it would be gone. He would be gone. "God, I love you." He whispered into my hair.
"I love you, too." God, why did this hurt so much? My heart hurt. A car honked from outside in the street, his cue that it was time to leave. Leave. Forever. Gone.
"I have to go, baby." He only called me baby when he was really sad, and really needed me. It scared me.
"I'll love you forever." I said, kissing his lips. They tasted like salt. Was he crying?
"Don't forget me, okay? See you soon." See you soon; it was better than saying good-bye. With one last kiss, he was out the window, and driving away. And I was left, clutching his jacket, that he'd left, smelling him, and wishing like hell I was old enough to ride away, too.