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Ask Me To Stay

Page 50

by Mackenzie Osborn

I’m pathetic. They are three simple words that I can’t say—not when I know what happens next.

He looks down at my legs, blinking rapidly. I pull his chin up so he can look at me.

It hurts to know that I’m breaking him, but we both knew how this was going to end.

I plant another kiss on his lips, and he pulls me back into his arms for a hug.

“We’re still so young. I can’t be held back by a guy at this age,” I say cautiously with an underlying joking smirk. I can tell he doesn’t find it funny. For once, he isn’t looking for jokes.

But then, after a moment, he begins to smile.

“Well, I’m not just any guy, I’m awesome.”

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t hide the pain in his eyes this time. It’s all on display.

I lean in and peck a kiss, trying to make him forget the fact that this is goodbye.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment, like you said,” I say with my eyes still closed, waiting for him to kiss me again.

He grabs my waist and kisses me, exploring every part of my lips. They fit perfectly into mine, as if they were created for each other.

Nothing can ruin this moment. Nothing except stupid teenagers.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” an annoying voice yells in the distance.

No. No. No.

Peyton’s car enters the parking lot.

Why does this perfect day have to be ruined by this idiot? Sean looks as if steam might start shooting out of his ears.

“Get out of here, Peyton!” Sean scolds.

Peyton drives by quickly and sticks his tongue out like he’s at a rock concert—it reveals a yellow tint from drinking too many energy drinks.

Laughter bursts from my mouth. This moment would get ruined. It’s just our luck—at this point it's laughable.

Sean turns his head back to me and starts laughing with me, pecking kisses all over my face, seemingly determined to not let Peyton take this day away from us.

12

Present Day

Arriving in New York wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. All the memories held here didn’t come crawling back as I imagined they would. Not like it did when I got home.

Calling a cab is second nature to me. Waving my arm in the air, a yellow taxi pulls up to the airport curb instantly.

“It’s like a whole new Bee here in NYC,” Sean quips.

I laugh. He has no idea.

We make our way to the Oriental Hotel right by Times Square. I got us conjoining rooms because it was the cheapest option. Sean sent me money for the tickets and hotel, even though I insisted not to.

As we grab our things out of the cab, Sean leans over to me while glancing at the driver. “I never want to get into another taxi ever again,” he says, mortified.

The entire drive from the airport was pure chaos, no blinkers and a lot speeding. You’d have thought we were filming a Fast and Furious movie or something. He didn’t even stop at a red light. Not the best first impression for Sean.

When we get inside, the receptionist gives us both our key cards. She gives a scrutinizing look when I tell her the reservation is for two rooms, not one. Then she proceeds to make eyes at Sean.