“I just really wanted to kiss you again.”
“Oh, good, you’re still here.” Regina’s footsteps grow louder behind us. We turn, but there’s no rush apart from each other.I’m too stunned by kissing Daisy in the hallway of our old high school to process what’s going on.
“I…I’m sorry,” Regina goes on as she approaches, “but with all of your news, I completely forgot.” She holds out an envelope. “Do you have one more minute to chat?”
Daisy squeezes my biceps. “I’ll pull the truck around.” She walks away, and all I want to do is chase after her forever—to never leave her side. To kiss her again, but this time to be ready for it, to enjoy it even more.
“I can’t believe I forgot this,” Regina says, tapping the envelope against my arm. “When you emailed, I thought you were going to tell me you were quitting. The past ten minutes have been an emotional roller coaster.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s a request for you, for next semester.”
I take the sealed letter and turn it over in my hand. “What kind of request?”
“A contract. The students love you, we have a waitlist a mile long in case of any dropouts, and we have parents asking if you’re on the schedule next semester—next year even.”
When I think back to my schooling, my teachers were the people who got me passionate about art and encouraged me to be creative. I never envisioned myself in their shoes, not beyond this summer semester.
But I never envisioned myself back in Harlow, either.
If someone had asked me when I first arrived, I would have said I’d be itching to leave by now, and I’d be following up with my mentor daily about that job at Tate. But when I reflect on the past couple months, I’m not antsy, and I don’t really know what to do with that. If I go, it’s a momentous choice. But if I stay, that’s just as massive. Whatever I’m facing, I have no middle ground to play with.
“I sort of hoped your feelings about teaching may have changed since our tiki drink night. Or that the better pay might sway you,” Regina says with a tentative smile. “More hours, too. Everything’s negotiable, and when we do get the art school all set up, you’re one of the first people I’ll bring on board.”
“I…” I stare at the envelope, and reality comes down hard on me. Another kiss with Daisy doesn’t mean I should rethink my future—it just means I’m the guy always carrying a torch for her. The man who’s ready to rearrange his plans at the slightest show of intimacy. She packs up her emotions in boxes so tightly, a simple kiss doesn’t mean she wants me to stay. I don’t even know what I would say if she asked, and I can’t imagine her reaction if I told her that’s what I wanted.
The shiny opportunity at Tate twinkles off on the horizon in my mind. It appears less lustrous at the moment, but it’s still there.
“I can’t make any promises past this summer.”
Regina shrinks slightly but keeps a smile on her face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve got some other things going on.”
Hopefully she doesn’t ask me about whatother thingsI’m referring to. My upcoming plans are built on hope and delusion. The only thing I know for sure is the pop-up takes precedence. There’s no next step until I pull that off.
“I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely feeling bad for getting her hopes up.
“Don’t be. We’ll just have to enjoy having you here for the time you can give us.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Max, 18 Years Old
“This is way better than prom.” Daisy had her bare feet propped on my car’s dash, a trail of In-N-Out special sauce dribbling down her chin. I drove us to the lot for one of the local trails. The parking area overlooked Harlow and the lower desert, all glowing with twinkly street lights and the steady flow of headlights.
“Agreed. Definitely better.”
“Sure you wouldn’t rather be in a room with the senior class, sweating to the latest top forty hits?” she asked.
“It’s all part of the high school experience.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I said that.”
At the last minute, Daisy’s date dumped her and took someone else. The jerk. Who would do something like that, and to Daisy Johnson?
Mrs. Johnson had called to say Daisy wouldn’t be joining in the stretch limo our friend group had rented. I had no idea what she was talking about—I hadn’t planned on going to prom.
