I burst into tears and Dean wraps his arms around me.
“Congratulations,” he says. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.” I look at him and he wipes away my tears with his fingertips. “Where are you going?”
“The school you don’t want to go to.” He laughs.
“Harvard?”
He nods. “It’s where I’ve always wanted to go. Best way to pursue law or law enforcement. Plus—” He wipes away more of my tears. “If you haven’t gotten rid of me by then, they have a summer program in Boston. I could see you in the summers.”
My heart drops at the thought that we only have one semester and a summer left together, but I try my best not to let it show.
As if he can tell what I’m thinking, he kisses me again and whispers, “We have plenty of time. Don’t think about it. Let’s just focus on making the most of what we have.”
“Okay.”
“How do you want to spend the rest of the night?”
“The same way we spent it the other night.”
“What?” He tilts his head to the side. “What other night?”
“The night at the pool.”
“So, you want me to take you swimming again?” He smirks. “That can be arranged.”
“No...I want to, you know.”
“I don’t know.” He leans forward and gently bites my bottom lip, tugging it. “Tell me.”
I blush as he slips a hand under my shirt and unclasps my bra. “You know what I’m trying to say, Dean...”
“It sounds like you want to have sex again and again, but I’m not sure.” He takes off his shirt. “That’s why I’m asking. Is that it? Do you want to fuck me again?”’
My eyes widen at his last question, but I love that he put it that way. “Yes...Yes, that’s what I want.”
“Good.’ He kisses me. “Lay back and grab the headboard.”
***
The remainder of winter break flies by in a mix of sex with Dean, late night sneak-outs, and several surprise gifts between us.
When the spring semester begins, we still hang out via tutoring afterschool and dates on the weekends, but our time seems more limited. Since the team made the state playoffs, the games are several counties away on some nights, and with Western Peak requiring that I submit a full portfolio before the fall, I find myself a bit more stressed about art than usual.
Dean is crowned Mr. Popular again, to no one’s surprise, (And someone must be playing a joke, because I’m crowned Ms. Popular), but I can’t help but feel that that sweet feeling that we developed during the fall and over winter break is slowly dissipating.
We don’t talk much after his games anymore. Our phone conversations last for a few minutes as opposed to hours, and that strange voice that was at the back of my head when we first started to talk?
Something is telling me that she’s getting ready to say, “I told you so...”
Chapter 9
MIA
Sixteen weeks before prom.
MIA: Just wishing you good luck one last time for tonight’s game! :-) I just finished my second piece for Western Peak and will finish the other two next week. I’m going to get some ice and heating pads and I’ll have them ready for when you get here later. I love you... :-)
I’m not sure if he’s already on the field or not, but I don’t waste any time heading to CVS and picking up all the things I’ve promised. And even though I just told him that I’m finished with my piece, that’s a lie.
My mom came into my room and tore apart my sketches just as I was getting started. She went into a rage like I’d never seen, taking all of the art supplies that I had out and pouring them down the drain. Then she screamed at me for submitting a formal “No Thanks” to Harvard, demanding that I call them immediately.
When I refused, she screamed at me even louder and accused me of chasing pipe art dreams just like my brother. (“Do you really want to be like him? Tattooing junkies just to make it day to day? Do you have any idea the awful life that an ‘artist’ lives? It’s not worth it, Mia. Let me save you.)
I wipe away a tear as her words replay in my head, and my heart hurts to think about just how hard it’s going to be to finish my portfolio for Western Peak. I’ll have to start all over, and I’ll have to use a good chunk of my summer job money to replace everything she destroyed.
I’ll also miss the rest of Dean’s playoff season more than likely, since the remaining games fall under hours when my mom won’t be home and the best lighting is in my room. I’ll also have to find ways to make it up to him because I know he’s gotten used to me being on the side lines supporting him.