flashlight. “It’s her. She put her picture inside.”
He studies it for a minute before looking back up to me. “You look a lot like her.”
“I’ve been told that a time or two,” I say, feeling the tears building in my eyes.
We sit silent for a while, me trying to recover from giving away so much of why I am who I am … and him … I think he’s coming to grips with the fact that I’m not perfect. Or my life hasn’t been anyway.
“Have you seen her since?” he asks, cutting through the silence.
I nod, not willing to go into any more detail. I’ve given him enough for one night. “What about you? Any secrets you’re hiding?”
He wets his lower lip before his eyes find me again. “Nothing I want to share.”
Looking away, I try hard to squash the regret I suddenly feel. I gave him more, so much more than I’ve given anyone, and he doesn’t want to share anything about himself. I passed the ball to him, and he doesn’t want to run with it. I guess I thought if he told me something, we’d be forever bound by our secrets.
He runs the back of his fingers against my cheek, bringing my attention back to him. “Emery, I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, but there are things I don’t talk about. With anyone.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
Besides the loud truck going by on the street, it’s quiet again. I’m about to ask if he’ll take me home when he speaks again. “Do you remember how big it seemed when we walked in today and the lights were on? Do you remember stepping out onto the field?”
“Yes, this place is huge.”
He nods, agreeing with me. “I get sick before every game. Everyone thinks I’m this cool, calm, collected guy who can just step onto the field and make magic happen, but inside, I’m scared to death. You step out here and there’s voices, the roar of the crowd, reporters wanting to ask a few questions … it’s too much sometimes.”
“Why do you do it then?”
“Because I’m good at it. Because it’s going to get me somewhere.”
“There are a lot of things out there that will get you somewhere.”
He lets go of my hand and sits up. “It was his dream, and I need to see it through.”
Sitting up next to him, I ask, “Whose dream?”
“My dad’s,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair. My hand reaches up to rub his back, but before I actually touch him, I pull away, not sure if it’s my place.
“Why did you say it was his dream?” I ask, remembering his exact words.
Glancing at me with pained eyes, he says, “Let’s leave that one alone.”
I’m disappointed, but in a way, I understand him. It’s not easy to open up, and it takes a lot of trust. Maybe he just hasn’t gotten to that point with me yet.
The wind has picked up, and I wrap my arms around my legs to chase away the chill. “Are you cold?” Drake asks as he runs the back of his hand up and down my arm.
“A little.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, standing up. “I’ll give you a ride back to your dorm.”
Part of me wants to stay here so I can pretend for a little longer. Pretend that this is all I have to do, sitting on this worn blanket staring up at the stars, but it’s not reality .
Standing up, I stretch my arms over my head to loosen my stiff back. It’s been a long day. It’ll be nice to throw on some sweats and crawl into my warm bed.
Drake rolls up the blanket and tucks it under his arm, taking my fingers between his again. “You don’t mind this, do you?” he asks, raising our joined hands up slightly.
“It’s okay,” I reply shyly.
He smiles, leading us back across the dark field and down the dark hall. He doesn’t say a word until we’re back to his car. “This night didn’t turn out exactly how I’d planned, but I’m still glad we came.”
“Me too.”
He lets go of my hand, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His eyes have the intensity they held that day in the library. This time I lean in,
He studies it for a minute before looking back up to me. “You look a lot like her.”
“I’ve been told that a time or two,” I say, feeling the tears building in my eyes.
We sit silent for a while, me trying to recover from giving away so much of why I am who I am … and him … I think he’s coming to grips with the fact that I’m not perfect. Or my life hasn’t been anyway.
“Have you seen her since?” he asks, cutting through the silence.
I nod, not willing to go into any more detail. I’ve given him enough for one night. “What about you? Any secrets you’re hiding?”
He wets his lower lip before his eyes find me again. “Nothing I want to share.”
Looking away, I try hard to squash the regret I suddenly feel. I gave him more, so much more than I’ve given anyone, and he doesn’t want to share anything about himself. I passed the ball to him, and he doesn’t want to run with it. I guess I thought if he told me something, we’d be forever bound by our secrets.
He runs the back of his fingers against my cheek, bringing my attention back to him. “Emery, I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, but there are things I don’t talk about. With anyone.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
Besides the loud truck going by on the street, it’s quiet again. I’m about to ask if he’ll take me home when he speaks again. “Do you remember how big it seemed when we walked in today and the lights were on? Do you remember stepping out onto the field?”
“Yes, this place is huge.”
He nods, agreeing with me. “I get sick before every game. Everyone thinks I’m this cool, calm, collected guy who can just step onto the field and make magic happen, but inside, I’m scared to death. You step out here and there’s voices, the roar of the crowd, reporters wanting to ask a few questions … it’s too much sometimes.”
“Why do you do it then?”
“Because I’m good at it. Because it’s going to get me somewhere.”
“There are a lot of things out there that will get you somewhere.”
He lets go of my hand and sits up. “It was his dream, and I need to see it through.”
Sitting up next to him, I ask, “Whose dream?”
“My dad’s,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair. My hand reaches up to rub his back, but before I actually touch him, I pull away, not sure if it’s my place.
“Why did you say it was his dream?” I ask, remembering his exact words.
Glancing at me with pained eyes, he says, “Let’s leave that one alone.”
I’m disappointed, but in a way, I understand him. It’s not easy to open up, and it takes a lot of trust. Maybe he just hasn’t gotten to that point with me yet.
The wind has picked up, and I wrap my arms around my legs to chase away the chill. “Are you cold?” Drake asks as he runs the back of his hand up and down my arm.
“A little.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, standing up. “I’ll give you a ride back to your dorm.”
Part of me wants to stay here so I can pretend for a little longer. Pretend that this is all I have to do, sitting on this worn blanket staring up at the stars, but it’s not reality .
Standing up, I stretch my arms over my head to loosen my stiff back. It’s been a long day. It’ll be nice to throw on some sweats and crawl into my warm bed.
Drake rolls up the blanket and tucks it under his arm, taking my fingers between his again. “You don’t mind this, do you?” he asks, raising our joined hands up slightly.
“It’s okay,” I reply shyly.
He smiles, leading us back across the dark field and down the dark hall. He doesn’t say a word until we’re back to his car. “This night didn’t turn out exactly how I’d planned, but I’m still glad we came.”
“Me too.”
He lets go of my hand, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His eyes have the intensity they held that day in the library. This time I lean in,
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