DEAN: Hey. What are you doing?
I smile, but I don’t answer. We talked on the phone last night for almost four hours. I’m convinced that I need to slow down whatever this is between us as much as I can.
It buzzes again.
DEAN: I know you see my text message, Mia. What are you doing?
I look up and scan the coffee shop, making sure he’s not there.
MIA: I’m ignoring you. Do you mind if I continue?
DEAN: I do mind. No one should be forced to do something they don’t really enjoy :-)
MIA: I’m filling out a college application. You know the one I was supposed to fill out last night before you called me and interrupted?
DEAN: It was a welcome interruption. Where are you?
MIA: Hudson’s Coffee. Why?
DEAN: I’ll come get you in an hour. I want to take you somewhere today. I think you’ll like it.
MIA: Have we discussed how you never ASK me if I want to hang out with you? How you always just assume?
DEAN: No, but I don’t think we need to. That’d be a waste of a text message, and yours aren’t unlimited :-)
I smile and put my phone on silent, now thinking of a better opening line for my essay. I manage to finish the entire application by the time Dean’s car pulls up right in front of the café’s windows.
Looking outside, I see a few girls from our school waving at him as he gets out of his car and leans against it. They step closer to him, blushing and feeding him the attention he seems to get everywhere, but to my surprise, he entertains them for only a few seconds before moving away and coming inside.
“Did you finish?” he asks, walking straight to my table. “Do you need more time?”
“No.” I stand up. “But I think your adoring fans out there would’ve appreciated more time.”
“I’m sure.” He rolls his eyes and grabs my backpack. “I’m not interesting in being ‘Dean Collins’ outside of school, though. Especially not today.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He leads me out to his car and opens the door. “Get in.”
“After you tell me where we’re going.”
“Someplace I think you’ll like.”
“Does this someplace have a name? An address? I need to make sure someone knows where I am since I’m leaving.”
“I’ll know where you are.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how all kidnappers think. That’s not the point.”
Avoiding my question, he scoops me up and places me into the car himself, playfully clicking the child safety lock before shutting my door.
He gets behind the wheel and quickly speeds away, veering his car onto the highway that leads into another county.
“Can I ask you something, Dean?” I ask.
“Anything.”
“Why are you still paying me to tutor you? Now that we’re supposedly dating?”
“We are dating.” He looks over at me. “But regarding the tutoring payments, would you like me to stop?”
“You can.” I shrug. “I don’t feel like I have to be paid to put up with you now.”
He laughs. “Okay. I still need the tutoring though. Would you like to be paid in other ways, then?”
“No.” I roll my eyes. “I need to ask you something else, though.”
“I’m listening.”
“Why exactly do you need all A’s? You have yet to tell me about that.”
“A guy can’t just want to get good grades for his upcoming college prospects?”
“Not when every college is clamoring for said guy to play for them, and would happily accept him even if he had all F’s.”
He speeds past a few exit ramps before speaking again. “Said guy hates playing football.”
“What?” I look over at him in complete shock. “How is that even possible? You’re so good at it, you make it look so easy.”
He zones out again, not speaking until he pulls off on an exit. “Just because I’m naturally good at something doesn’t mean I actually enjoy it...It’s just too late to get away with backing out of it.”
“So, all those high profile offers and media coverage mean nothing to you?”
“Not a goddamn thing,” he says. “Being an athlete isn’t a guarantee. Once you get hurt or lose, people forget about you. I want to do something that matters, something that helps other people. I don’t want to be remembered as some small town sports hero, some record that’s in the yearbooks. Besides, I’m tired of people assuming that football is the only thing I fucking care about.”
I sit still, completely stunned. “So what do you want? And why don’t you just tell everyone the truth?”