Resentment(7)

I’m not sure what comes over me right then, but I actually laugh out loud.

He laughs even louder, and then we can’t help but ask each other about our other favorite things, completely ignoring the time. I’m not sure at what point it happens, but we get onto the topic of music and he pulls out his iPod and hands me his earbuds, insisting that he introduce me to some of his favorite bands.

We share all the same ones except two.

It’s not until the librarian lets us know that the study room is closing, that I realize we didn’t accomplish anything today.

“How about we make it up on another day this weekend?” he asks, helping me put my books away.

“Don’t you have football practice?”

“I do.” That strange look from our first session crosses his face again. “But I’ll make the time afterwards. Let me give you a ride home.”

“You really don’t have to keep offering to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s eight o clock, Mia. There are no buses, and I’m not about to let you walk home or call someone when I’m right here.”

This time I don’t bother arguing with him. I simply walk by his side as we leave the building.

When we make it to his car, he completely surprises me by opening the passenger door for me.

“What?” he asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You opened my door.”

“Yes.” He smirks. “That’s the only way to get inside of the car. Do you know an alternative?”

I hold back a laugh and get in.

After shutting my door, he slips behind the wheel and cranks the engine. Then he speeds out of the parking lot, going the wrong way.

“Do I need to remind you where I live, Dean?”

“No, but there’s construction that way. That’s why I’m going this way.”

There’s definitely no construction that way, and there hasn’t been any new construction in our city for years. But when I see him pull onto the main road that leads directly to my neighborhood, I let it go.

He’s taking the super long way to my house—passing Donnellson’s where the varsity team is currently hanging out with their letterman jackets on full display, the movie theater where me and Autumn worked our very first jobs last summer, and the hidden cover where couples go at the end of their dates to make out.

When he finally pulls up to my house, I don’t get a chance to unbuckle my seat belt before he gets out the car to open my door. “So, you really are a gentleman, huh?”

“When it comes to you.” He extends his hand with a grin, making me blush against my will. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” I rush inside and shut the door behind me. I place a hand over my heart to see if it really is beating as fast as I think it is, or if it’s a figment of my imagination.

Shit, it’s real...It’s real...What the hell?

“Why are you standing there with your hand over your heart like that, Mia?” My mother walks into the foyer. “Have I unknowingly installed an American flag in the hallway? Are you pledging allegiance?”

My heart rate instantly returns to its normal pace, to the beat of “Fuck my life.”

“Is that Dean Collins?” she asks, peering through the window. “Did Dean Collins just drop you off at home?”

“Yes, he did.”

A smile crosses her lips and she pulls me into a hug. “Good. You’re finally learning how to be social and you’re dating.”

“We’re not dating. I’m his tutor.”

“What could he possibly use tutoring in?” She looks confused. “What teacher at Central would be dumb enough not to pass him? Especially with a third state championship on the line?”

I bite my tongue before I can say something smart, something really smart.

Fortunately, she doesn’t notice the look on my face. Instead, she pulls me into a hug that makes me feel hundreds of degrees colder. “Have you heard back from Harvard yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“You did apply, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” My eyes veer toward her framed degree that hangs on the wall. (She has like twenty copies of it hanging all over our house.)

“Well, if you haven’t heard anything back in four more weeks, let me know and I’ll make the call.” She lets me go. “What about the bonfire and homecoming? Also, prom? I know you’re planning on going to all of those events this year. At least, you better be.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Let me know when you look for a dress for homecoming. We’ll make an event—a mother daughter type of thing. It’ll be good for your development.” She smiles as she walks away from me and into the living room. Just like that, I know our numerous arguments for the past month are now forgotten.