“Oh, thank God. I thought—”
“You thought I was going to say I shouldn’t have kissed you last night? All night? And again this morning, and about five minutes from now?”
I meet her amused eyes and shrug.
“Something like that.”
She shakes her head and threads our fingers together, removing my distraction and taking charge.
“I applied for Woodsman-Still University in Texas. They have a really good cheer program, and I like their sports med school.” Her eyes light up when she talks about it, and I can’t help but be infected by her joy.
“Cheer, huh? So does this mean—”
“That I’m going to rip my spot back from that bitch’s hands? Yeah, it does.”
I cackle at her ballsy response and she pulls my hand toward her. I give in and nestle up next to her so we face one another. The view from this vantage is spectacular, and the way the sun spills into my room hits the flyaway hairs around her face, making her look like an angel.
“That was mean. She’s not a bitch. She’s just a sophomore and it’s not her time. It’s my time, and I really want this. No matter what,” she says.
No matter what.
Texas.
That’s why the heaviness took over her eyes.
“I’m probably going to Tech, downtown,” I say.
She nods.
“I figured.”
I move my finger to the tip of her nose, along the bridge, tracing around her perfectly arched brow and down the side of her face, turning my hand so the backs of my knuckles graze along her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch, and no matter how finite her truth might be, I refuse to be sad about it.
“Texas isn’t that far,” I say.
She laughs softly.
“It’s pretty far,” she says.
I look up as I pretend to calculate a fact I already know, yet one more random set of data stored in my strange mind.
“Okay, so one thousand, one hundred sixty miles, give or take,” I say, meeting her eyes again.
“Give or take,” she laughs out.
“Depends on what part of Austin you’re in.”
She holds my stare, her eyes darting from one to the other while her smile hovers on breaking wide.
“Kidding,” I say, but I shake my head no, because I’m really not. She rolls so she’s laying on top of me, her palms on my chest, her chin at her thumbs as she pats her hands against me with her frustration.
“I don’t get you. You’re a mystery!” Her eyes widen in playful exasperation, then she tucks her chin, kissing my chest in the very center.
Her hair cuts off my view of her eyes like sets of curtains, so I reach forward and scoop both sides with my thumbs, moving her locks back to their temporary home behind her ears. She leans into my right hand again as I do, and my thumb traces the space from the corner of her eye down to the corner of her mouth.
“You really watched me come home from dates?”
I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I can’t believe she’s bringing this up again, and now, while we’re here, lying in my bed together with nobody around. I open one eye and nod just enough to admit my guilt.
“And those guys were all bad choices?” she asks with an arched brow.
I nod slowly, sucking my lips in a hard, straight, confident line.
“And how, mathematical genius, do you know that?” She rests her head on her hands again, eyelashes batting in wait for my answer. I better make this good.
“It wasn’t math,” I say in a low voice.
“No?” she questions.
“Uh uh,” I say, shaking my head again. She reaches up and touches my nose, tapping it a few times in a way that puts me completely under her spell. I bite at it teasingly and she recoils, tucking her hand back under her chin.
“They didn’t see you. Not really,” I say.
Her skeptical expression dims with her intense glare.
“And you do?” This question is the easiest one from her I’ve ever had to answer.
“Oh, I see you. I have always seen you, Eleanor. Always. More than anyone ever has.”
I feel her chest quake against mine, cracked open by my simple honesty. Her eyes close and open a few times, almost as if they’re heavy with sleep, but I know that’s not it. I think maybe this is what happens when someone truly sees you for who you are. This is how it feels, both ways. It feels heavy and explosive all at once.
Pushing forward against me, she moves until her mouth is lined up with mine and dusts a feather light kiss against me as I move my hands to gently hold her face again.
“Well, okay then. If you say so,” she says, eyes falling shut as her forehead meets mine. I keep mine wide open so I don’t miss the minute hers do again. I don’t want to miss a single flash of golden-green, a single flit of honeysuckle lashes, a single blush or curve of her smile.
“We can meet in the middle,” she hums. “Wherever that is.”
Arkansas.
Eighteen
Either Jake is getting smarter, or I am a remarkable tutor. I know what my grandpa would say, but I have to give Jake some credit for doing the work. He’s managed to pull himself up from a sometimes F to a comfortable C in geometry. I am so proud of him I can’t help but brag while we’re working in the garage, and mostly because Gramps will overhear and have to give my friend some well-earned props.
What I don’t expect is the invite to some impromptu poker later that night. I guess Gary and his wife are moving to Florida. My mom will be so upset to see Gary go. Even though it’s not a Thursday, the gang is getting together for one more night. There’re six guys coming altogether; with Gramps that makes seven.
Gary refuses to play anything greater than a five-hand table, so my grandpa needs three or four more players.
