The question catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Do you want me?" he repeats. "Forget logistics, forget money, forget what's practical. Do you want to be with me?"
"That's not fair."
"It's not meant to be." He leans forward, and there's something raw in his eyes. "Because here's the thing. I love you. I'm in love with you. You're not a hobby I picked up in Nevada. You're not some phase I'm going through. You're important to me, Sabrina. And I'm making space in my life for you."
He reaches across the table, catches my hand.
"So I'm asking: are you willing to make space for me too? Even if it's scary? Even if it means changing your plans?"
Tears prick at my eyes. Damn him. Damn him for being right, for cutting through all my excuses, for making this about us instead of about logistics.
"I'm terrified," I whisper.
"I know."
"This is insane—"
"I know."
"But what if I can't afford Yale? What if I hate it? What if—"
"We'll figure it out," he says simply. "Together."
Together.That word cracks something open in me. Because I do want him. I want the impossible. I want to believe that we’re not too different. That we’re not on borrowed time.
But wanting and having are two different things. And right now, I’m terrified.
"Open your heart to me a little more, Sabrina." He coaxes. "Come with me."
"I—I…look, I need time," I whisper.
Relief flickers in his eyes. "Of course. I'll wait."
But I already know I'm going to say yes.
We finish our food in relative quiet. Not uncomfortable—just heavy. Full of possibilities. Of goodbyes that might not come. Of choices we haven’t made yet.
Outside in the dark parking lot, Jordan pulls me into his arms. "Thank you," he murmurs into my hair.
I wrap my arms around him. "For what?"
"For not running screaming."
I laugh softly. "Well, the night’s still young."
He kisses the top of my head, then opens my door before walking around to the driver’s side. The engine purrs to life, and he goes through his ritual: adjusting the heat, mirrors, wheel. Jordan Farrington, careful and deliberate, even when everything feels like it’s unraveling.
Then I remember. "Hey, I need to tell you something."
"Oh, right. You said so earlier. What is it, baby?"
I take a breath. "My dad wants you over for dinner."
He freezes. "What?"
"Tomorrow night. Mom’s cooking. Trust me when I say it's an experience you don’t want to miss."
