By the time we start the drive home, the sun is setting and the temperature has dropped drastically. When he turns onto the long driveway to Emberton, Will stops the car rather than speeding me back to the school.
I sit up. “Is everything okay?”
“I wanted to talk for a second without any nosy students interrupting.”
Fears swirl through me.He doesn’t have time to see me anymore. I’m too boring. He just wants to be friends. Hedoesn’twant to be friends.
“I had a great time today.” He reaches out and pries my hand from the seat. “When I’m with you, you remind me to be happy.”
My hand trembles in his.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Because I’d like to feel this way a whole lot more.”
He brushes his fingers through my hair. I suck in a breath as he leans closer. Then our lips meet and I might melt the car with the heat that explodes through my body. I’ve never felt anything so wonderful in my life.
Chapter
13
My epically romantic kiss with Will is far from my thoughtsby the time I finish with classes on Wednesday. I got a D on my last British lit quiz... which is still better than the F I got on my chem homework. I drag myself down the hallway and to the van. The only bright spot today is that the fairy garden class is happening in Northampton this afternoon.
It would be one thing if everyone else was also dying in their classes. Then we could all sit around complaining about how horrible the professors are and how unfair this whole place is. But everyone else is doing fine. Well, I’m not sure if they’re psychologically fine, but their grades are good and mine arenot. Every day I think the pace of classes will slow or I’ll miraculously understand more, but instead the opposite happens.
I collapse into one of the van seats and peek at Instagram. I turned my notifications off right after Andy’s party so I’m surprised to see how many people have liked the photos of me and Will. Warm relief rolls through me. I know it’s dumb, but it feelsgood to have people know I’m not depressed or pining over Andy. He and Crystal seem to be going strong and I want everyone to know I’ve bounced back too. I hate thinking about returning to Waterford, but at least when it happens, I want to be known for more than that party.
Twenty minutes later the driver drops me off at the edge of the Northampton park. My heart swells like an overinflated balloon as I take in my surroundings and I forget my earlier worries. I love the adorable row homes that line one side of the street, with their bright blue doors, tiny front gardens, and double chimneys. I love the squat European cars with their long yellow license plates. And most of all, I love that it’s a random Wednesday evening in the middle of September and I’mhere—in a foreign country—all on my own.
This part of the park is mostly grass with a few old soccer nets, but in the distance, I can see picnic tables pushed together with a pop-up tent covering them. Given that the tent is festooned with balloons and flowers, I think I’ve found my spot.
I turn out to be the only (semi)adult there who isn’t either employed by the gardening store or accompanying a child. And, unfortunately, their “new techniques” end up being pretty simple. Once it’s clear there’s nothing new to learn, I jump in to help a little girl glue the individual scales of a pine cone onto the roof of her wooden birdhouse. It’s really fun. I wish I could teach classes like this every day instead of taking classes. Or, better yet, I wish there were a college major dedicated to designing fairy gardens. ThenI’dbe the A+ student for once.
I’m not ready to go back to Emberton (and all the studying thatawaits) when the class is done, so I wander around the park. It’s spitting rain, but that just makes it feel more British. In the distance, there’s a large group of people running around. And I think I see hoops set into the ground. Could I actually have stumbled upon aQuidditchgame?! I’ve never seen one in real life. I laugh and jog toward the field.
As I get closer my grin spreads so wide I think my lip might split. I read the Harry Potter books straight through when I was young and fell in love with them. They’ve always been my comfort reads when I’m feeling down or lonely. Granted, the fact that the author turned out to be a bit of an Umbridge is hard to stomach, but I’m trying not to let her ruin the books for me.
I study the field. Just like in the books, there are three hoops on either end of the field, the middle one higher than the other two, though all within reach without having to fly on a broom. And—oh my—the players have brooms. Not movie props, but short, yellow broom handles. Every person on the field has one between their legs as they run and jump and dart.
I freeze. What... the... hell?
I take a step forward, then another. That can’t possibly be... there’s no way...
But I’m not making it up.Devis on the field.
My mouth drops open and I march closer as if pulled by a spell. There’s no doubt it’s him. He’s sweating, his broom sticking out behind his legs, and he’s clasping a big white ball in one hand. He tosses it at someone’s back, and they trip and drop their broom. My astonishment turns into full belly laughs. I can’t believe I’m seeing Dev—serious, focusedDev—playing Quidditch!
Best. Day. Ever.
A referee calls time and the teams separate and head toward the sidelines. Someone jerks the hoops from the ground. Dev walks with another guy, animatedly talking. They must be describing something that happened in the game because they’re pretending to throw balls at imaginary people. I keep laughing as I walk slowly toward them, despite the intensifying rain. It’s fascinating what you can learn about someone when they don’t know you’re watching.
Suddenly Dev turns and our eyes meet. Dev’s broom falls to the ground.
“Hey!” I call, and wave.
A few more people turn toward me, but I don’t recognize anyone else from Emberton. This must be a citywide group. Dev’s eyes bulge and he says something to his friend before rushing toward me.
