“Josie.” He reaches for my hand and stops me. “I feel like I’m watching a tennis match. Will you sit down? Please.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m playing it out. That’s all. The lessons have been paid for—you know that.”
“Until when exactly?”
“Two more Saturdays. Last lesson is May fourth.”
My birthday. “And you’ll be able to let it go?”
“Yes.” He reaches for my hands, and I let him wrap his fingers through mine.
“What if you start throwing well?”
“I won’t.”
“You’re trying, though. I’m thinking about changing everything, and if you could play, you’d be gone in a heartbeat.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” He tugs me forward until we’re both sitting, our knees touching.
“You would. You love it too much.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the only thing I love.”
My heart stutters in my chest. I’m suddenly hot. Dizzy. I tug my hands free, but he won’t let me.
“I love you, Josie.”
“You do not.” My heart has started again, banging hard against my ribs, echoing in my ears.
His smile is unbearably sweet. “That’s not exactly the response I expected when I told a girl that for the first time.”
My gaze flies to his. Deep blue rimming pupils so wide I want to fall into them.
His voice is rough. “I don’t know how else to explain the way I feel when I’m not with you. I’ve been happy with girls before. But I’ve never been miserable without them.”
I squeeze his fingers. “That’s an awful way of saying that.”
“Thank you for critiquing my pronouncement of love.”
I smile into his smile.
“Don’t be so afraid,” he says softly.
“I can’t help it. I feel like something bad is going to happen.”
“You’re waiting for something bad to happen. It’s not the same thing.”
Is he right? Am I? “The last time I felt this happy, I was coaching with my dad and he was planning to leave me.”
“I know that. And I know what we’re talking about is a big change for us both. But when someone throws a wild pitch, you don’t question your good fortune. You run for the bases.”
I slowly unwind my grip on his fingers and slide my hands up his wrists to his forearms. Warm muscle moves under the brush of my fingers. “She’s canceling all the plans. She says I can do whatever I want.”
“Then do broadcasting. We’ll submit our applications whether we win or not. We’ll take the classes we need, get the internships we can, and come out of ASU with a degree in broadcast communications.”
“That easy, huh?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Josie.”
My heart vaults into my throat and every nerve in my body sparks to life as he shifts closer, eliminating the space between us. He tilts his head so that our lips are almost touching. “I know how you grew up. I know you never want to move again.”
“Well,” I say, “maybe just an inch.” I lean in and we’re kissing.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It’s overcast when I wake up on my birthday. I’m not sure what woke me and then I check my phone and find a text from Garrett.
GARRETT: Woke up thinking of you. Happy birthday, Walters. See you soon.
I sigh as I sink back into my pillow, my phone pressed to my heart. If only it was just Garrett and me. But it isn’t.
My stomach quickly rearranges itself into knots and my brain is a fog of images from the past week.
True to her word, Mom hasn’t pressed me. She quietly canceled all the plans for today—even the cake she ordered. I’ve offered to continue helping with the business, but she said a break would be good for us both. She said it might give me clarity. That’s such a homeopathic-naturopathic-everything-pathic word that I found myself getting mad all over again. My emotions are riding a teeter-totter, and I can’t get off.
I’m starting to think clarity is a bunch of bullshit. You just have to decide. I have to decide. If only we’d heard back from ASU about the finalists for the contest. Cholla’s final regular-season game was on Tuesday, and we submitted the entire packet the following day. They promised to announce the top three finalists online within a week and the winners soon after. They want to give the winning team time to plan and prepare for the Diamondbacks game in June. If Garrett and I are top three, that would be a sign.
“Can I have a sign, please?” I say to the ceiling, hoping someone up there is listening.
My phone beeps, shocking me. I glance at the screen, but it’s not God texting. It’s Mai.
MAI: Happy birthday. Can we get drunk on Cheetos later?
ME: You’re so wild.
MAI: What are you doing this morning?
ME: Waiting for a sign.
MAI: I can make you one. What do you want it to say?
I laugh to myself, but my best friend has made a very good point.
ME: I’m going to go surprise my boyfriend.
MAI: Does that mean you’re not wearing underwear?
Still laughing, I climb out of bed. Mai is exactly right. Instead of waiting for a sign, I’m making my own and it’s going to say:
Fill out the effing application and go show your boyfriend.
If there’s extra room on the sign, it will also say:
And bring him home to meet your mom.
You big weenie.
Mom has gone to the farmers market this morning—she decided she might as well after we canceled our meeting with the lawyer. I’d already taken the day off at Page & Prose. Lianne seemed happy about it—she’s been hinting she can handle it on her own. Even if she can, no way am I quitting early. The best part of my week is reading those kids a story and making all of us laugh. I still get to sit on a throne one more time next Saturday, and no one is cheating me out of that.
Part of me would like to take over this morning, but what I need to do is important and now that I’ve decided, it feels like it can’t wait.
I take a quick shower, and
