I pull off and take the long way to West County—being sure to drive in the slow lane the whole time. As I approach a red light, I consider going back, maybe texting Dean and asking if I can meet him at his house tonight instead, but something tells me to keep going.
It takes me one and a half hours to find the stadium, and when I get there, the players haven’t even taken the field. Both Central High and West High teams are sitting in the bleachers, laughing and talking with one another, acting as if they’re not going to compete against each other later tonight.
I walk past them, looking for Dean, but he isn’t there. I head down to the underside of the bleachers, and see him and his Dad.
I start to step back, to try and get out of sight, but his green eyes immediately meet mine.
“Don’t fuck this up, Dean.” His dad hits him in the chest. “Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up.” He hisses at him and storms off, muttering a string of curse words with his every step.
I stand there, unsure of what to do, and then Dean walks over to me.
“What are you doing here?” He puts his arm around my shoulder.
“I wanted to see you...Are you okay?”
“No.” He looks down at me. “Not at all.”
“Something I can do to help?”
“You just did.” He kisses me, holding me tighter than he’s ever held me before. “How did you get here?”
“I drove my Mom’s car.”
“Would you mind if I drove it to take us back?”
“Sure. After the game?”
“No, right now.”
“What?”
“Now.” He starts walking me toward the parking lot. “The game is on hold for weather anyway. Too much ice, so I’m sure they’ll be cancelling it.”
“What about your teammates?”
“They know,” he said. “Don’t worry about them. Which car is it?”
“The red Corolla over there.”
He walks me over to it and I hand him the keys.
“Thank you.” He says, kissing me and opening the door for me.
“For what?”
“For continuing to be the only person in my life I can actually trust...” He shuts my door and slides behind the wheel, speeding away. As he drives through the counties, I notice his phone ringing, notice the word “Dad” appear on the screen.
He picks it up, looks at it, and tosses it into the backseat. “I’ll deal with that later. Where do you want to go?”
***
Later that night, he waits until my mom is gone to her latest psychiatric conference before he comes over. He follows me up to my room and pulls me onto the bed.
Kissing me, he tells me I’m the best part of his day.
“You’re the same,” I say, breathlessly.
“What’s this?” He grabs my unopened letter from Western Peak. “Isn’t this the school you actually want to go to?”
I nod, reaching for it, but he holds it higher.
“If you want to go so badly, why haven’t you opened it?”
“I’m scared it’s going to be a no.”
“But what if it’s a yes?” He looks confused.
“If it was a yes, they would’ve sent it in a bigger envelope, don’t you think?”
“No.” He sits up and pulls me against his chest. “The University of Pittsburgh sent me my acceptance letter in a postcard. When were you planning to open this?”
“After Christmas.”
“Christmas or Christmas break, Mia?” he asks. “If it’s the former, you’re already late. If it’s the latter, you have another week.”
“The latter, then.”
He gives me a look that say he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m serious, Dean. I’ll open it once school starts.”
“Okay, well I’ll open it for you now and then I’ll tape it back up so you can open it then.”
My eyes go wide and I try to stop him, but within seconds he’s ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter.
I look away from him and sigh as he reads it, debating whether now is finally the time when I’ll finally need to thrash him.
“I hate that you just did that,” I say, still not looking at him. “I really hate that you didn’t ask me first.”
“You shouldn’t.” He kisses the back of my neck. “You got in.”
“WHAT?” I quickly turn around and grab the paper from him, reading the words for myself.
Full academic scholarship. Room and board coverage. Five-hundred-dollar book scholarship for the first four semesters.
My eyes catch the final paragraph and I almost kick myself for being so paranoid: “We like sending our acceptance letters in a simple fashion. Short, sweet, and to the point. We’ll send you a much more formal packet once we receive your acceptance.”