Page 74 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

“She likes who I am in emails,” I point out. “That’s different from real life.”

“I’d never tell her this,” he whispers conspiratorially, “but she’s an excellent judge of character. She knew I’d like you before I even met you. She was right then, and she’s going to love you.”

The reassurance helps, though it does not answer the question I’m still avoiding.

“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll go with you to Dallas for Thanksgiving.”

Dallas.

A city that isn’t mine.

A house I’ve never seen.

A version of Dylan that belongs to another world.

Meeting his family is the next step—one with momentum I can’t control.

If I go, I’m choosing to move forward.

I’m choosing the possibility that this becomes serious in ways that can’t be undone. Holidays. Flights. Shared calendars. Shared expectations.

And somewhere deep in my chest, a quieter fear whispers.

If I let myself fully step into his world, will I still recognize myself inside it?

Or will I become “Dylan’s girlfriend” in rooms where my own dreams are treated like background noise?

His eyes widen, pure excitement lighting his face. “Really?”

“Really.”

“We can look at flights after you talk to your parents,” he says, squeezing my hand like he’s afraid the moment might disappear.

Then reality settles back in, quieter but persistent. “I don’t know how my parents are going to take it,” I tell him. “I’ve never spent Thanksgiving away from them.”

Dylan’s expression softens. “You think they’ll be upset?”

I laugh nervously. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Then maybe I can spend part of Christmas with your family,” he says easily, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

“You’d do that?”

He nods, kissing my forehead. “If they’ll have me.”

I move closer, choosing not to demand absolutes from a future that has not arrived yet. I can keep worrying about what might happen… or I can trust what’s happening right now.

“Deal,” I whisper.

His lips meet mine, slow and devastating, and for once, every fear quiets.

At least for tonight.

Chapter Eighteen

Dylan

Lucy texted me twenty minutes ago saying she was on her way, but her car still hasn’t pulled into the lot. Joss found someone to cover her catering shift tonight.