Where dirt and gravel finally gave way to sand at the edge of the desert, Theo stopped, and turned around.
June looked up at him expectantly, her heart sinking lower and lower into her stomach. She didn’t want him to go. Judging by the look in his eyes, he didn’t want to either. He met her gaze, and it lingered; his lips dropped open for just a second as if he were about to speak, but then shut again. June blinked, noticing a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. It was as if clouds had moved out of the way of the sun, and everything became clear to her. He was saying something without saying anything at all, and the longer she searched his expression, the less she wanted to know. But it was too late. It was written in his gaze: I don’t know if I’ll make it.
Theo’s hand lifted, gently tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. June took in a quick breath, surprised at the gesture. She was even more surprised when he cupped the side of her face instead of pulling away, and lifted her chin just slightly so that her lips met his in a gentle kiss - firm, and warm, and all too fleeting.
Heat flooded her cheeks. He let go of her a second later, gave her that same bittersweet stare, and then turned on his heel and left into the dunes. She wanted to say something, anything, call out his name, but her voice caught in her throat.
She watched him walk away into the heatwaves until she couldn’t see him anymore, desperately trying to ignore the ever-growing feeling of regret festering in her gut.