I let another song play, allowing myself to get lost in the nostalgia that this place held for me – for us. When the lyrics of “Home” by Daughtry began playing, I turned the volume down and laced my fingers together with Shane’s as they rested uneasily on his bouncing thigh.
“Talk to me? Please?” I twisted in my seat, my words carrying an air of hope that he’d open up.
He took a deep breath, squeezed my hand, and turned to face me. I growled in anger at the red welt covering the left side of his face. “Fuck, Shane.” I ghosted my fingers over where he’d obviously been slapped and he winced at my touch. “What happened?” He leaned into my touch as a tear streamed down his cheek.
Grabbing my hand from his face, he pulled it to his mouth, letting his lips linger there as he gathered his words. “Scranton dropped me.”
“What? Why? When?” My world spun around me as the implication of what this meant for him and for us raced in my brain.
“The letter was waiting for me when I got home. In my dad’s hands.” He chuckled humorlessly as he stared blankly out to the field before us. I sat there, quietly, letting him gather his thoughts, trying desperately to ignore the “what ifs” that were parading through my own head.
“He wasn’t happy,” he huffed. “And neither am I,” he added with a touch of sadness as he turned back to face me.
Hanging his head in shame, he averted looking in my eyes. “I fucked up, Dyl. I fucked everything up, just like I always do.” I couldn’t stand his self-deprecation, the seed of doubt his father planted long ago took root deep in his identity and colored just about everything he did. I knew when he was out on that field, he was truly happy; I hoped he felt the same when he was with me.
With that thought in mind, I tipped my head to the open field. “Come on.” I got out of the car and walked around to his side, opening the door and all but pulling him from his seat. I dragged him out to the outfield. We rested up against the fence, the old, beat up wires uncomfortably supporting us. With our knees bent and leaned up against one another, we held hands and stared at the field on which we’d spent most of our childhood.
“Remember that time you pegged me in the head.” Absentmindedly, I ran my thumb over my eyebrow where the faint scar was hidden.
Shane chuckled. “Yeah.” He laughed again before adding, “I was fucking pissed at you, though.”
I’d never known that. I just assumed it was his stupid competitive edge coming out in the championship game. He spoke before I could even ask my question.
“Your parents came to the game – hell, they came to every game they could. Since it was the finals, your grandparents were there too with signs and all that shit. The four of them were cheering like fools from the sideline. And then there was me.” The bitterness of those last words couldn’t be missed. He was jealous and I hadn’t even thought to recognize it as such until that moment.
“Reid was at his own game so I didn’t even have him there to watch me. It’s sad when your younger brother is your biggest fan.”
I lightly stroked my thumb back and forth over the inside of his wrist, smiling at him. “Not one bit. That kid has always looked up to you, loved you – like more than a brother. To tell you the truth, I’ve always been jealous of you.”
“Liar,” he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at me.
“No, I’m serious. You have a built in best friend. I know that sounds like some chick shit, but I’m serious.” I took a moment to sort through what I had to say. “I remember at the beginning of the season this year when we weren’t talking. I would watch the two of you joke around and laugh with each other. You were both so carefree. You could just tell you both genuinely liked being around one another, and not because youhadto be because you were brothers. You’re lucky to have him.”
A quiet bubble of silence floated around us as the sky darkened from that midnight, sapphire blue to almost pitch black. Shane’s quiet words popped the bubble. “And when I shut you out, you didn’t have anyone.” It was a statement, not a question. The realization of what my life was like in his absence must have just hit him.
I shrugged, deflecting the emotions I didn’t feel like dealing with. He turned toward me, dropping one leg to the side so he could slide directly in front of me. “I’m sorry, Dyl. I didn’t even… I mean, I was just dealing with so much.”
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad anymore.” I pulled his face to mine and rested my forehead against his. “I’d do it all again, if it meant being here with you.” A soft peck to his lips. “Like this.” Another kiss, this one lingering just a moment longer. “I wouldn’t change anything. It brought me to you, and I wouldn’t give that up for the world.”
A shy look spread across his ruggedly handsome face, his lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. With the mood lightened, I decided that we would figure out the whole not-going-to-the-same-college-anymore topic later.
“Come on.” I moved us further away from the fence, slinking down into the too long grass, letting it glide in between our fingers as we stared up at the twinkling stars.
“Truth or dare?” I asked without looking over at him.
I felt him tense slightly before exhaling a slow and steady breath. “Truth, I guess.”
“Did you really swipe the answers for Mrs. Brenna’s English final from her desk last year?”
He shot me an incredulous look, one that was clear even in the darkness of the night before busting out into a full-on laugh. “She left it right there. In plain sight. Besides, she’s like one-hundred and five years old. It was too good to be true; I had to.”
“Okay, one more.”
He gave me the side-eye. “Those aren’t the rules.”
“Since when have you known me to play by the rules?” I winked and smirked at him as he rolled his eyes. “Was it really you who super-glued all of the second floor classroom doors locked for senior prank?” It was genius, and while it pissed the teachers and principal off something awful, the kids at school were still talking about it weeks later.
His chest puffed with pride as he denied the accusation.
