I laugh and lead her to the edge of the lake. When we get there, I pull a piece of folder paper out of my pocket. It’s a poem I wrote for her while I was on Christmas vacation with my family. Some of the snow was reflecting the blue from the sky, and it reminded me of her eyes. I realized that I not only see that color in the water but in everything. The poem I wrote basically says I’m ruined for everything because everywhere I look, she’s there.
I finish reading it and fold it back up. When I go to shove it in my pocket, she yells, “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I want it.”
“I…” It was never part of the plan for me to give her the poem. It’s the original paper I wrote on, and it’s filled with scratch marks and rewrites. I had only planned to read it to her. “It’s a mess. Can I type it up and give you a nicer copy later?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. That’s my favorite thing I’ve gotten all day, and I want to see the process. The mistakes and all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’m looking forward to seeing the part where you compare my eyes to blue Powerade.”
I laugh. “I think they’re more of a Glacier Freeze Gatorade, but whatever.”
Ella hands me the flowers and chocolates. “Trade me.”
With a resigned sigh, I take them from her and hand over the poem. It’s then that I realize how much trouble I’m in. I want to give this girl everything she wants, and if I’m not careful, I might.
Later that night,after I drop her back off at her apartment, I go to my room and pull up my email on my phone and start typing the first thing that comes to mind.
Dr. Freck,
I’m writing this email because I want to drop out of the running for Citrus Scholar. I think Ella is the more deserving candidate. She’s smart, talented, beautiful, funny…
I think I’m in love with her.
You might be wondering why I am telling you this. It’s because I don’t know who else I can tell and it’s not like I’m going to send this anyway. I can’t drop out even if I want to.
This really sucks.
In the end, I delete it.
19
MOST LIKELY TO STAY FRIENDS AFTER GRADUATION
“Let’s go, Hardy,”Lily screams from beside me, her hands cupped around her mouth.
“Do you even know what’s going on?” I ask as I adjust my posture. The metal stands are making my butt numb, and I haven’t found a comfortable position yet. I pull my puffer jacket tight around my waist to fight against the cold February air and peer down at the lacrosse game unfolding below.
Connor and Hardy are both on the field playing against one of Citrus Prep’s biggest rivals, but as much as I’ve tried to figure out the rules, I have no idea if the last play was any good—and I highly doubt Lily does either.
She shoots me an offended look. “Of course I do.”
I level her with a stare and adjust the fleece blanket we have covering both of our laps. I scoot a little closer so that it covers the sides of our legs.
Lily tugs the corner of the blanket and tucks it underher thigh. “Fine. I kind of know what’s going on. Hardy caught the ball in his stick and moved it toward their goal, so I have to assume that’s a good thing.”
Lily’s been coming to Hardy’s games for three years, and she’s as lost as me. That only confirms that I will not be able to figure it out before the end of the season. I might not be able to follow the game play, but at least I know to keep my eyes on number ten.
A few months ago, I would have made a joke about how arrogant Connor must be to make sure even his lacrosse number is a “perfect ten,” but now I feel nothing but pride as I watch him play. That perfect ten is my boyfriend and has been the best boyfriend the last month and a half. Not only did he remember my birthday and send me flowers and plan out an elaborate Valentine’s Day scavenger hunt, he also takes me on a date once a week and brings me something yummy from the coffee shop every Monday. He’s a walking green flag and makes me feel special in ways I never have before. And yet, with graduation right around the corner, there’s still a looming dark cloud over our relationship.
Mrs. Grafton warned us that the second semester would go by quickly, but I don’t think I realized just how fast it would be. College acceptance letters are coming in, spring break is next month, and finals will be here before I know it. Each week passes in a blink of an eye, and I can barely keep up.
It doesn’t matter how sweet Connor is or how many lattes he brings me—or that I think I might be falling hardfor him—we are marching toward a battle that one of us will win and both of us will lose.
