Page 31 of Level Up

He trembled in my arms. The pain still bloody and raw.

“It’s why I hate water. The ocean. I’ve never been back, and I don’t want to go. I hate being even this close to it. Hate smelling the salt water. I just… I’m scared and resentful. And I miss him. And I want to make him proud, every day. But I want to hug him again most—most of all. And, and?—”

“You are. You are making him so, so proud.” I kissed his forehead, wiped away a streak of tears. All I could do in this moment was be by him. Hold him. He had to let it out. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jay said, his tears beginning to lessen. My heart still hurt for him. I could see the pain in his face now. That kind of shit, it haunts you until the day you’re a ghost yourself.

“I’m the one that’s sorry,” he sniffed again. “You need to be getting to practice. Go. Go. I’m okay.”

“Nah, fuck practice.”

“Huh?”

I reached for my phone and shot a quick text to my friend, asking him to let Coach know I wouldn’t be making it.

“Come,” I said, grabbing his hand in mine. It was such a perfect fit. “I want to show you something instead. It’s where I go when I need to relax a bit.”

“You sure?”

I leaned in and kissed him, tasting some of the salty tears on his lips. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

Jay got changed and put on his shoes, and we were off. A short walk led us to the edge of the FU campus, where an overgrown trail snaked through the trees. These weren’t the palm trees that dotted the campus all throughout. These were a cluster of pine trees that created a natural little forest that pushed away and up a small hill.

Sunlight painted the path as we walked, leaves and dirt crunching under our sneakers. Jay, still lost in his own thoughts, seemed to unfurl a little with each step away from the dorm. His story about his dad touched me. It showed me a side of Jay I never really thought I’d see, and I wanted to show him a side of me that he hadn’t seen, either.

Finally, we emerged into a clearing—a hidden meadow tucked away amid the tangle of trees. Wildflowers bloomed in vibrant patches of purple and blue and yellow, buzzing with big bumblebees drunk off the pollen that stuck to their tiny little legs. In the center, a towering pepper tree spread its branches, creating a shady oasis with its skinny and numerous leaves.

This was my place—where the pressure of expectation faded, washed away by the scent of wildflowers and the gentle hum of bugs.

“It’s beautiful,” Jay breathed, settling onto a fallen log beside me.

“My secret spot,” I admitted. “Come here to get away, remind myself there’s more to life than all the shit I usually worry about.”

The quiet stretched between us, comfortable in a way that still surprised me. Jay, the guy with the perpetual smirk and barbed comebacks, seemed to shed those layers out here. This quiet, contemplative Jay was someone I was discovering piece by piece.

And I was loving each new piece I uncovered.

“About your dad,” I started, then faltered. I was the jock, not the heart-to-heart guy. But something about the quiet solitude of this place urged me on. “I get it, you know. Feeling stuck. Wanting to… prove yourself or measure up somehow.”

He turned and gave me a wry smile. “Didn’t take you for a philosopher, Ry.”

“Shut up.” I chuckled, nudging him with my shoulder. “But yeah, I get it. He believed in you, man. That’s worth more than anything. And know that you’re making him proud each and every damn day.”

Jay didn’t respond, but his gaze drifted away, lost in the rustling leaves of the pepper tree.

“I hope so,” Jay finally said. “I really do.”

“He is. Look at you. You’re already practically a lawmaker, pushing people to make changes, and you haven’t even graduated college yet. You’re a superhero, Jay. Seriously.”

As if on cue, a tiny chipmunk scurried out from the base of the trunk, its cheeks bulging. It darted around our feet, then stopped and stared up at us, tilting its head with curiosity.

Jay and I exchanged a look, and then both of us slowly, carefully reached into our pockets. I had some leftover granola bar, and he produced a handful of lint, which he put back into his pocket with a chuckle. We crumbled bits of the granola bar onto the ground, and the chipmunk, clearly accustomed to being bribed, scurried forward to investigate.

“He likes peanuts best.” I grinned as the chipmunk snatched up a nut with lightning speed.

“Who doesn’t?” Jay asked.

“Definitely not you with the way you were sucking on mine last night,” I said, nudging him with a shoulder as he blushed. “That was so fucking hot.”

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