seventeen
Absence did make the heart go fonder—or at least it made the hormones build up. Honestly, by the time he did make a move to kiss her, she was ready to take matters into her own hands. His kiss was more pensive and unsure than she recalled from their last kiss. She shifted positions on the couch, swinging her legs across his lap, bringing them closer. Colin paused, then moved his arms behind her back, pulling her even closer, his inexperience with women making the moment all the more dear. Candace wished for a moment she had never made the stupid bucket-list item, but at sixteen she hadn’t understood the subtler points of relationships or the depth of feelings that could exist between a man and a woman. She’d only thought of dying without ever being kissed. But being kissed by the right man at the right time was so different than being kissed by someone who just wanted to kiss the cancer girl. This was the type of kiss that had sent all her old roommates to the altar. If only her story could end there. If it could be more than just this moment, this kiss. A tear formed near the corner of her eye, and she was helpless to catch it as Colin rained a row of kisses along her jawline. He stopped and ran his thumb across her cheek. “Are you crying? Did I do something wrong?”
The light from the flickering television reflected in his eyes. Candace hoped he could see hers as she tried to reassure him. “No, you are doing things just right. It’s me. Wishing I’d never put kissing guys on that list because this kiss is honestly the best of my life.”
His thumb rubbed across her bottom lip. “If you hadn’t experienced their kisses, how would you know this was the best?” He smiled big enough that his dimple showed, as if he were pleased by the thought his kisses moved her.
Candace kissed the dimple, not willing to explain or examine the rest of her thoughts. Colin responded with kisses of his own. She allowed her fingers to explore the hair at the nape of his neck as his hand rubbed her back. As their kisses grew deeper, Candace knew she should end the night and go home. There was no place to move forward from here. The dead end this road led to loomed before her. Just one more kiss, one more touch.
He trailed kisses up to her ear. “I love you.” His voice was husky. His lips found hers again. Colin’s hands moved to her sides, his thumbs caressing her ribs and moving upward.
Danger!
“Stop!” Candace pushed his hands away.
Colin blinked at her, confusion marring his brow.
“I need to go.” Candace untangled herself from him and stood to look for her shoes.
He stood beside her, running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I got carried away. I didn’t—”
Candace shook her head but didn’t turn to look at him. “No, Colin. We got carried away. But I can’t. I never can.”
“I didn’t mean to cross the line. I know you’re not that type—”
She spun around, frustration filling all the places that moments ago had tingled with another emotion. “No! It isn’t that I was going to tell you before. I should have. I’m hardly a woman at all. It’s all fake!” She pulled off her wig. “The cancer stole it all! I’m not that type of woman because I am barely a woman.”
“Candace, you know I don’t care about the hair. I love you the way you are.” He took a step forward, his arms open.
“Stop!” She took two steps backward. “You don’t know who I am.” She reached into her shirt with her right hand and pulled out her left prosthesis, then did the same with the other. She held them out to him, cradled in her palms. “A real woman can’t do this.”
Colin stared at her hands, his jaw working but nothing coming out of his mouth.
Candace dropped the prosthetics on the coffee table next to her wig and ran for the elevator.
Sabrina didn’t stop her. Neither did Colin.
“Sabru, Sabrina, ligh—” Colin choked back his emotions and tried again. “Sabrina, lights on.”
The living room lights came on. “Shall I turn off the entertainment system?” asked the computerized voice.
“Yes.”
Colin sat down and pulled the coffee table over to him. The pieces started to fall into place. Candace’s mother had died from breast cancer. They had been in the hospital together. The ten-year plan wasn’t like his ten-year plan. It had been all she’d planned.
He dialed Candace’s number. Her phone rang from between the couch cushions. He dug it out.
“Sabrina, is Candace in her apartment?”
“I cannot answer. It is against my privacy protocols.”
“Sabrina, is Candace in the building?”
“I cannot answer. It is against my privacy protocols.”
“Sabrina, is Candace safe?”
“I cannot answer. It is against my privacy protocols.”
Colin wanted to hit the computer housing Sabrina’s electronic brain.
“Sabrina, override authorization 911. Is there a human in apartment 10B?”
“Password, please.”
“Unicorn hair.”
“The door was accessed five minutes ago via the keypad. There is one heat signature in the apartment.”
“Sabrina. Please alert me if the door to 10B opens.”
“I cannot answer. It is against my privacy protocols.”
Colin buried his head in his hands. How should he go after her, and what should he say?
“Sabrina, what time is it?”
“12:11 a.m., Thursday, October—”
He cut the computer off before she started with the weather. “Sabrina, email me a memo to fix your time protocol.”
His phone pinged with the new email.
Colin gathered Candace’s wig and—he wasn’t sure what to call them—headed to the elevator. He assumed she would want her phone. The prosthetics weighed more than he thought. Candace probably would not want him carrying them in his hands, so he set them back on the coffee table and went in search of a box or bag. Every single bag he could find came from an electronics or computer store. All of his boxes were the same. He found a shirt box in his closet, complete with the shirt. He took the shirt out but left the tissue paper.
He rearranged the items a couple times before closing the lid and heading down the elevator.