They read the names alphabetically, which meant Tru wasn’t even in shouting distance, and I had to sit next to some sweaty finance bro named Cooper Cates who kept sniffing like he was about to cry.
We should’ve had the same last name by now. If we did, I’d have been sitting next to Tru, knees bumping, trading dumb doodles on our programs. I’d have been able to whispersomething inappropriate right before they called his name and make him laugh.
But I’d fix that. Soon. We were going to share everything.
When they called my name—“Darien Carter, Number Nine, Two-Time College Cup Champion”—I forced myself to walk slowly across the stage. My heart was hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with achievements. My eyes flicked toward the back rows just in time to catch Tru springing up from his seat, cupping his hands around his mouth and hooting for me like I’d just won the damn World Cup.
I didn’t even care that it was loud or embarrassing. I grinned like a fool, threw him a wink, and pumped my diploma overhead like a victory flag.
When they finally called “Truen Jameson,Summa Cum Laude,” I leapt to my feet, whistled through my teeth, and shouted, “That’s my man!” He scanned the crowd and, when he found me, his face flushed bright red beneath his cap, but he shot me the softest, happiest look as he crossed the stage, and I swear everything in me went still.
God, he was beautiful. And he was mine.
After the ceremony, the quad turned to chaos—grads throwing caps, families hugging, flashes from camera phones going off like fireworks. I broke free of the crowd just in time to catch Tru as he came down the hill.
“Hey, Mr. Jameson.” I tugged him into a hug so hard we nearly knocked over a sign. “Nice gown.”
He leaned back with a smirk, then subtly pulled the zipper down just enough to flash my soccer jersey beneath—Number 9.
“You did not,” I whispered.
“Oh, I did,” he said, cocky and sweet. “Call it sentimental, but I wanted a piece of you with me.”
I kissed him right there in the middle of the lawn, people be damned. Because I could. Because it was graduation. Because it wasus.
Charlotte was the one who found us, camera already poised and clicking.
“You boys,” she cooed, snapping another dozen shots as Tru groaned.
“Mom—”
“I can’t help it!” she chirped. “You look so cute together, I just can’t stop.”
Dad clapped me on the back. “We’re proud of you, Dare. Both of you.”
We went to dinner with our parents at some fancy restaurant where Charlotte ordered champagne for the whole table and Dad insisted on a toast that turned into a lecture on shared purpose and long-term planning. We survived it, barely.
Charlotte wanted more photos. Dad wanted to hear all about our post-grad plans.
“So what’s next?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “You’re only twenty-two. The world’s your oyster.”
Tru grinned. “I’m going back to New York for a bit. They offered me a full-time position at the gaming company’s satellite office downtown, but I want to keep interning over the summer before I start officially.”
“You’re killing it,” I said, stealing a fry from his plate.
Tru narrowed his eyes. “That was my last one.”
I shrugged. “You snooze, you lose.”
“And you, Dare?” Charlotte asked. “Still planning to stay on at the rec center?”
“Yeah. I love it there. I’m hoping to develop a mentorship program for the kids, maybe even get a few scholarships in the works down the line.”
Charlotte dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “I love that. You’re such a good role model.”
Tru bumped his knee against mine under the table. “You’re more than that,” he murmured. “You’re their hero.”
Whatever. As long as he saw me that way, that was all that mattered.
