Page 58 of The Longshot

“What?” I shrug. “We’re trying to get to know one another, am I right? This is me telling you about me, isn’t it?”

It only takes a split second for the look on Gary’s face to seamlessly translate into that of an encouraging smile, prompting me to go on.

I clear my throat. “What else… what else?” I think out loud, rubbing along my temples as I do. “Oh!” I light up. “I’m currently in my final year of study at Oxford. It’s always been a dream of mine to become a primary school teacher. Both of my parents are, and needless to say, I’m definitely their daughter.”

“Oxford?” Gary’s voice inflates with surprise. “Really? Wow, that’s… that’s amazing, Chelsie,” he praises. “But Oxford is far. What are you doing living all the way out here?”

Nervously, I peer down at the ground, toying with my fingers to soothe my anxiety. They say the truth always has a way of coming out, but this truth? I desperately want to avoid it, but now that we’ve gotten this close, I suppose I have no other choice but to confess.

“Well…” I clear my throat. “I’m actually on a temporary break from school at the minute. One that my parents don't exactly know about.”

“What?” Gary questions. “How come?”

“How come I’m on a break? Or, how come they don’t know?”

At this point, I’m stalling.

Gary furrows his brows. “Both.”

I sigh, leaning my head back towards the evening sky. Dark clouds are now beginning to roll in, and maybe, just maybe, the rain will save me from this explanation.

“It’s a long story, Gary,” my voice trails off as I meet his inquisitive stare. “But the main reason? Well, let’s just say that the other day... you met him.”

Gary’s face falls flat as I clench the fabric of my dress beneath my palm.

“No,” he speaks, a troubled look in his eyes as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you serious, Chelsie? You… you dropped out of school because of him?”

“I didn’t drop out, Gary!” I’m quick to object. “I’m just on a break. I’m going to go back, I swear. I just need things to settle first. To cool down. I need to find myself.”

Our conversation comes to a momentary standstill. I hadn’t realized just how frantic his rebuttal had left me until he’d clutched onto my hands and gently squeezed it between his grasp. The gesture dissipates all of my tension in an instant.

“Hey,” Gary’s tender voice soothes me. “I didn’t mean to push, Chelsie. I’m sorry. I just…” He tucks a stray strand of hair away from my face and places it behind my ear. “Didn’t realize that you were lost…”

I meet his eyes. Since fleeing to Crawley, I’ve convinced myself of this narrative of being lost. But now, being here, not just in this town, but with Gary, I don’t feel like I am anymore. In some oddly comforting way, at this moment, I feel… found.

“So, tell me, do you have any idea when you might perhaps go back?” Gary treads lightly with his words in an attempt to keep what has been an awful start to a get-to-know-me rolling.

I shake my head, trying to be as honest and authentic as possible. “I really don’t know. I guess when the time is right?” I throw it out there. “But I suppose that’s not something you ever really know. It’s something you have to feel, and right now… I don’t think I’m ready just yet. I need more time.”

“And why is that?” Gary probes. “Simon,” he says his name through gritted teeth. “What exactly did he do?”

When I focus on the look of concern in his eyes, my anxiety pumps through my chest—even thinking about Simon has the power to raise my blood pressure, not to mention the fact that Gary actually remembered his name.

I’m disheveled as I pull my hand back and out of his. “Can we, uh—talk about something else?” I meet his face with a look of urgency. “Please?”

I can see that it’s killing him to let this go. He wants to know. He wants to know badly. But I can’t do this right now. Talking about what happened with Simon isn’t what I want to define me.

Why?

Because it doesn’t define me.

I hope he gets that. I hope he understands that?—

“Hi, my name is Gary Edward Wilkinson,” Gary mimics my introductory line as he reaches out to shake my hand once more.

I’m taken aback. Thrown off. A look he visibly picks up on.

“What?” he questions me with a smile. “This is me talking about something else. Is it not?”

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