A nudge at my foot draws my attention to my right. My friend Jenna nods at the clock and a rush of nervous adrenaline makes the pencil beat faster. Two minutes until class ends and the weekend begins.
Usually, I love Fridays. Lincoln and I chat over Skype before he goes to work, but I haven’t heard from him—in four days. It’s a record. A horrible, horror-show record. I’ve texted him twice. Called and left a message once. Checked the mailbox every day only to find nothing. Willed him telepathically to call me two million times. My pride’s about to take a trip to hell and I’ll call him again if he doesn’t reach out to me soon.
The phone glows to life and the pencil falls out of my hand and drops to the floor, rolling down the step to the row in front of me. I don’t care. My heart thuds as I swipe my finger across the screen and then...I sink down in my seat. Crap. Not Lincoln.
Jenna nudges my foot again. “Lincoln?” she mouths.
I shake my head and mouth back, “Echo.”
My best friend is very happy with the twists and turns of her life. There’s some drama right now with Noah’s foster sister, Beth, and Echo’s been pretty torn up about it. The one thing my relationship with Lincoln has taught me is that distance doesn’t mean a friendship ends. It just means you have to make more of an effort.
I read through the latest news and text Echo back a few encouraging words. Her returned smiley face is enough to warm a small part of my heart. Unfortunately, only an acknowledgment from Lincoln can thaw out the rest.
“Have a great weekend!” Our professor claps his hands once and the auditorium is filled with the sounds of people shifting out of their seats and closing books. Jenna and I gather our stuff and leave.
Florida is hot. Not that Kentucky doesn’t have its fair share of summer weather in October, but there are typically some cool days thrown into the mix. Not in Gainsville. It’s hot every single day.
And I love it.
My body shivers when I leave the air-conditioning of the science building and head toward my dorm.
“Dinner tonight?” Jenna pulls out her keys. We shared the same orientation class and the same fear of not knowing a soul. She’s a commuter, but practically lives in my dorm room.
“Sure.” It’s not like I expect to be talking with Lincoln or anything. My mind replays our last phone conversation, last Skype chat and letters, searching for whatever I said or did wrong that would make him keep his distance.
During a visit here in September, Lincoln took me to the beach; while we lay on a blanket staring at the stars, he told me that he loved me. And I said the words back. My heart swelled to the point of explosion that night. Now it feels as if it’s going to collapse in on itself in heartbreak.
A thought freezes me in midstep and Jenna circles back around when she notices I stopped walking. “What?” she asks.
“What if he’s hurt?” My eyes widen to the point I feel they’ll pop out of my head. “What if he went to go climb and he fell and he’s bleeding and he’s alone and—”
Jenna tilts her head and the pity in her eyes makes me want to smack her. Instead, I begin walking again. Her sandals snap against the sidewalk as she catches up. “Sorry. You know I think he’s great, but it’s been four days and he hasn’t responded at all. I mean, come on, how many long-distance relationships really last?”
I pause at the crosswalk where I turn left to head to the dorms and she turns right to head to her car. I blow out a rush of air. “I love him.”
Jenna now sports a matching oh-how-sad-she-really-thought-this-was-going-to-work smile to highlight the pity-eyes. “We’ll go out tonight. Have a good time. Make you forget him.”
“It’s only been four days,” I answer. He’ll call. He will. Lincoln loves me, and why do I want to cry?
“Hey, Lila!” I look behind me and quickly step out of the way to avoid being pummeled by Bryant on his skateboard. He stops less than a foot away from me and, in a smooth motion, kicks the skateboard up into his hand.
“Bring Melanie to my game tomorrow night.” Bryant’s a sophomore and plays a game meant only for men over two hundred pounds of muscle: rugby. The big, bad dude has a huge, bone-crunching crush on the tiny girl from a small town in Mississippi who shares my dorm room.
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Because Lila possesses the ability to breathe life into the dead.”
“Stop it or I won’t go out tonight,” I tell her. Melanie’s had a rough time transitioning to life in Florida. Jenna doesn’t understand since she still lives at home. Homesickness...it can kill you if you let it, and Melanie is seriously close to coding.
Coding over being away from everyone you love—I get it. I came close to packing my bags a week in, but then Lincoln chatted with me for hours, while I hugged a pillow tight and cried hysterically. He told me I could do it, and I stayed, and he was right. I’m strong enough to live away from home and pursue my dreams.
Jenna backs away, all smiles. “Then I’m leaving before I say something else. See you tonight.”
We both watch her leave, and then I watch as Bryant spins a wheel on his board.
“You okay?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m scared Melanie’s going to go home.”
I bite the inside of my lip. “Me, too.” I like Melanie. A lot. And I really don’t want her to give up, because she’ll regret it. Just like I would have regretted staying in Kentucky or heading home after a week.
Bryant drops the board and places one foot on it. “Just bring her to the game, okay?”
I nod and he rolls away.
Melanie doesn’t see it, and I was also oblivious until I made the decision to stay. Almost everyone on campus feels scared and alone when they move into the dorms. Each and every smile is forced and faked. Yeah, there’s excitement, but there’s fear of the unknown, too. I sort of wish I had a paintball gun in my dorm room. Maybe Melanie would feel better if she could pop a couple of paintballs into her fear.
A welcome wind blows through the trees, and I wipe at the sweat forming on my forehead. If everything is going to hell for me and Lincoln, at least he gave me a great memory and lesson to hold on to forever: I’m strong and I’m going to stay strong.
I shove my cell into the back pocket of my shorts and head to the dorms. A plan. I need a plan. Plans make everything better. I’ll go out with Jenna tonight. Maybe drag Melanie. Homework tomorrow, then Bryant’s game, kidnapping Melanie if I have to. Then Sunday, if there’s still nothing from Lincoln...I’ll call his home phone.
I enter my dorm and wave at a few girls hanging out in the lobby as I head to the mailboxes. Two I like, but one’s a gossip who I hate. Unfortunately, some high school crap doesn’t get left behind.
I stop breathing when I notice an envelope in the slot. My hand pulls at the ends of my hair, creating a little pain. It’s from Lincoln. It has to be. No one else mails me anything.
All of a sudden all the fear and insecurity I’ve fought over the past couple of days slams into me and my hands begin to shake. It could be good news. It could be...or it could be bad.
I unlock the small door and slip the letter out of the slot. It’s his handwriting. I stare at it. Deciding. Open it here or in my room? Here or in my room? Unable to wait, I slide my finger underneath the lid of the envelope, not caring about the stinging paper cut.
The envelope falls from my hand as I yank open the paper. I blink. Several times. And read the two words again: Turn Around.
I spin on my toes, the world rotating twice at the normal speed. My heart rockets up to my throat—it’s Lincoln.
With his hands shoved into his jeans pockets and his thumbs sticking out, Lincoln leans back against the opposite wall and flashes a small, unsure smile. Oh, my God...he’s here.
With three leaps, I throw myself at him, and because he’s made of solid steel, Lincoln catches me without stumbling back. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the floor. I giggle as my feet sway back and forth.
“Why didn’t you call?” I don’t bother pulling away when he sets me back on the floor. Instead I cuddle my head into the curve of his neck and inhale to smell his dark scent. He’s here, but then I flinch as if jolted with electricity. What if he’s not here to see me...? What if...?
“I wanted to tell you in person,” Lincoln says.
A little unsure, I draw back and hold on to him only because he holds on to me. Please don’t let go. Please, please don’t let go. I love you. “Tell me what?”
He lets me go and I wrap a hand around my stomach as nausea overcomes me. Lincoln withdraws a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to me. I stare at it and he motions with his chin for me to open it.
I do and the nausea takes a hike when I see the beautiful words addressed to Mr. Turner from the University of Florida. “You were accepted.”
Lincoln flashes this unbelievably beautiful smile. “I knew I’d spill if I talked to you before then. I got in. As of next semester, I’ll be here right beside you.”
He’s worked hard for this—spending an entire summer in school, then this semester in community college at home. With no scholarship, he worked a full-time second-shift job in a lumberyard to save money to pay Florida’s tuition.