Page 56 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

“Hey, this is that program you wanted to go to. Is it happening again? Are you in?” His genuine excitement at what may or may not be possible squeezes my heart. He’s so positive, and all I can think is how this must be a cruel joke. And how I don’t want to leave him if what’s in this envelope is another chance. I no longer want to go, and it’s crazy to give up on something like that for a guy. But he’s that guy for me. The kind you make adjustments for. The kind you stick around for.

The kind who finds something better when you’re gone.

“You want me to open it?” he asks.

I glance sideways and up, still not quite convinced I’m ready to sit up tall.

“Sure.” I shrug, but quickly recant. “Actually, no. Throw it away.”

He laughs and moves back to his chair, turning it sideways so he’s close enough to swoop in and catch me if I faint while I’m in this chair.

The crisp rip of the envelope is followed but the quieter sound of paper being unfolded. “Dear Miss Edwards,” he begins.

“No, not out loud. I can’t . . . not out loud.” I draw my hands in to shield my face, holding my breath while Logan gets silent. The longer he takes to speak, the more anxious I become, until finally, I lift my head, feeling that so much time has passed he must be reading a lot of bad news. Or a sales pitch.

The library lights are brighter than normal for a few seconds, but eventually my focus adjusts on him, his lips moving as his eyes scan across the page. A slight smile plays at the side of his mouth.

Oh, my God.

“Rachel.” I love the way he says my name.

His eyes flit up to my face, and that one-sided smile becomes two-sided.

“You’ve been invited for six months of study. It’s not spring, but right after graduation. I mean, I don’t know exactly what some of this stuff is that they’re talking about, but it sounds pretty spectacular. You have to do this!” He flattens the pages on the table and I nervously drop my gaze and turn them to face me.

The German Institute for Chemical Biology and Future Sciences would like to invite you to be a part of our prestigious post-graduate studies program. Classes will commence on June 1, and complete at the end of the calendar year.

I speed read the rest, noting the credits I would accrue toward a master’s degree and the guaranteed entrance to any program I want. The catch? I still need a whole lot of money that I don’t have.

“Wow,” I say, folding the pages, my focus lost somewhere between me and the table. I’m swimming through the problems, through all of the hurdles that stand between me being here and being there. And then I look up and find the biggest obstacle of all. Green eyes, soft smile, strong arms, and this ability to make me feel alive. More alive than I knew I could.

“So? You’re going, right?”

I open my mouth, but without knowing what my real answer is, all I can do is exhale and plead with my eyes.

“Rach,” he says, his tone full of expectations. He’s not wrong, but also, I can’t focus on this right now. It’s too much.

“I know. And I’m taking this seriously. It’s a lot for me, though. And it’s also . . . well, a lot of money.” I don’t like talking about finances. My family has always been so private about that stuff, probably because my dad has gone through his fair share of economic ups and downs. There was a time he almost lost the store when I was in high school, and Casey probably wouldn’t have gone to college at all if it weren’t for football. That my dad and brother have been able to turn the family business into two stores is a big deal. But they had to take out some hefty business loans to get it done. And the thought of me taking one on too, just so I can study overseas, has never felt like a fair thing to ask. Even though the burden would be mine, the stress would fall on my parents. It’s how the Edwards family is built. We share hardships and joys.

“Okay. That’s fair,” Logan says, scooting his chair closer and sliding his palm across the table to me. I cover his hand with mine and mouth, “Thanks.”

A few people take over the tables next to us, sliding a pair together for a study group meeting. I reach for Logan’s test, finally giving it the attention it deserves.

“I’m really proud of you, by the way,” I say, scanning his answers and spotting the ones he missed. Out of habit, I wince with disappointment and Logan notices.

“I miss an easy one?” he asks.

I waggle my head.

“Not easy, but it’s one you got right, well, last night.” An impish smile touches my lips and I feel my face warm.

“I told you I needed to bring you in as a study aid,” he teases.

Our hands have begun to intertwine on top of the table while I look over his test.

“Maybe you can get one of those exceptions next time,” I say, forcing my eyes on his test instead of him. If I look at him, I know he’s going to have heat in his eyes. And I’m feeling weak.

A few more people take over seats at the tables near us, and the discussion is louder than our favorite librarian usually allows.

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