She blinks at me. The chaos around us mutes to a dull hum. All I see is her, the smile starting to spread across her face. She laughs, first in disbelief, then with joy.
Not much comes naturally to me. But reaching for her, tugging her close, that feels like second nature. Like finally flipping the repelling pole of a magnet around. Seyoon leans in. I give in to my need, my want, without hesitation this time.
And Seyoon kisses me back.
43
NEXT ON…
SEYOON
No one ever talks about what happensafteryou accomplish your dreams.
I still don’t believe it, no matter how many times I repeat it in my head. I won.I won.I mouth it again just to taste it on my tongue. Once Dean and I finish celebrating, I float through the immediate proceedings. My head is foggy from euphoria and my limbs are light as I’m helped off the net, posed before a camera, directed to say a few closing remarks, and a million other things that I barely recall until I’m finally staged next to Garrett, who’s holding a comically large check for a million dollars. A check written out inmyname.
My hands tremble as I grip the other side of the cardboard.
“This is just for the photo op,” Garrett whispers through his toothy smile. “The real money will be transferred via electronic deposit.”
“Right,” I say, voice thin. “Real money.”
Real money pays off debt. Real money can buy a home. Real money will keep the courts from splitting me and Umma up.
This is real.
Once they’ve gotten the shot, Garrett sets down the check and gestures for Dean—who’s been watching from the sidelines with a soft smile—to join us. For a minute, I think Garrett’s going to do something profound like shake our hands or tell us with bravado that we’ve done right by our parents, rewritten history, insert tear-jerking sentiment here, etcetera.
Instead, he gives us each a noogie.
“My hair!” I squawk, batting his hand away. Dean takes it with pursed lips, like he’s used to this.
Garrett is smiling. It’s kind of lopsided, and not a hint of teeth peeks out, so I think it’s his real one.
“Not bad for a couple of brats,” he says. “Nice job.”
A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been caught dead saying this—but Garrett’s notallthat bad, actually.
There’s a disturbance in the air, and I look over to catch Blake glaring daggers at Garrett. She storms toward us, visibly twitching with rage.
“A moment?” she grits out, refusing to look at me or Dean. I smirk.
Garrett grimaces and slumps in on himself. I wouldn’t want to be him right now. Or ever, actually.
He points at us. “Hey, give your parents my best, alright?”
Before he can leave, a promise I made long ago pops into the forefront of my mind. I groan. “Wait, Garrett?”
He stops. I trudge up to him and ask if he has a pen. Confused, he fishes one out of his pocket. I turn his palm over and write Umma’s phone number. It takes him a moment before he realizes what it is.
“Is this you giving me your blessing?” he teases.
“Not by a long shot,” I say, rolling my eyes. “This is your chance to make things right.”
Not long after, Dean and I are ushered back to camp as the other crew members start tearing down the set. We ride in the same car this time. It’s peaceful. Almosttoopeaceful.
“Hey, where’d Carter go?” I ask.
“He left when you were getting your photo taken,” Dean answers. “He threw another tantrum and insisted on going home early. I don’t think he’s too happy about how things turned out.” He grins. “You should’ve seen his face when he made it to the treehouse and realized he lost.”
