I slip it on and inhale the scent of his body wash before popping my head through the neckhole. The warm cotton soothes the goose bumps on my skin and—after quickly fixing my hair—I snuggle into its warmth and lean back in my seat. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He looks out over the party, and I scramble to pull his attention back to me, but I’ve got nothing.
After a beat of silence, he asks, “Do you want to go for a walk? Down the beach?” He nods past the party to where I hear more than see the water.
“Sure,” I say, too quickly. I sound desperate. I clear my throat and try again. “Any excuse to be near the water. I love the ocean.”
He stands and holds out his hand. I let him help me up, and we follow the sound of the water to the wet sand, stopping a few feet short of the waves before we head down the beach at a slow pace. I stuff my hands in his sweatshirt pocket and grip them tight. I’ve waited so long to have a moment with him, I can’t mess this up.
I clear my throat. “Jena says you got into Brown?”
His smile is blinding even on the darkened beach. “I did.”
“That’s incredible, Dylan. Congratulations!”
“Me? What about you, Miss Yale? I don’t think I actually congratulated you yet. You must be so proud of yourself.”
I stop to pick up a tide-smoothed rock and throw it into the waves. Relieved, yes. Proud? Not yet. “Sort of? It feels a little strange, to be honest. I’ve been working toward this for years, and now here we are. It’s like jumping off a treadmill at top speed and not knowing how to walk on still ground anymore.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been a little disoriented since I got my acceptance. We’re on the grind for so long, and then there’s this lull when we have our yes, but we can’t do anything about it until the fall.”
I stand up a little straighter. “Yes! Exactly that.”
He smiles at me again, and we slip into this effortless conversation about leaving Waldorf and what it’ll be like partying on the East Coast this fall, which leads to talking about books and movies and which places we want to travel to most: Peru for him, Greece for me.
Slowly but surely, all the hope that had been smothered since September flares back to life. It’s so easy with him. It’s always been easy with him, but this is the first time he seems to feel it too.
Maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to give up everything in my escape from No Caller ID. Dylan could be the one thing I keep for myself when I burn this life of mine and start fresh in Connecticut. Brown isn’t that far from Yale. We could meet up on the weekends. He could come to New Haven, or we could travel together to spend the holidays in NYC or Boston.
The possibilities are intoxicating. And dangerous if he doesn’t feel the same way.
But the way he’s looking at me, angling his body toward mine, leaving the party to wander up the beach and talk, the way he takes my hand as we turn back toward the bonfire…itfeelslike he might. Especially when we arrive at the fire and he doesn’t let go of my hand. His fingers tighten under the scrutiny of all our friends, and my hope solidifies.
Maybe Dylan is finally going to be mine. Maybe all this pain and suffering really is behind me? Is that possible? That I get YaleandDylan in the same night?
We stand there among our classmates, watching Jena and Felix dance together. Felix dips Jena until her braids trail the sand, and Jenashrieks until he pulls her back up. I start to laugh when the warmth of Dylan’s face near my ear makes my entire body seize.
“Do you think they’re going to dance this badly at prom?” he murmurs.
A breathy laugh escapes me. “I hope not. We booked The Nines Hotel this year, so they’re going to have to class it up.”
“Is there any committee you’re not on?”
“If there was, I’d probably find a way to get on it.”
He laughs softly in my ear. “How nice is The Nines?”
“Very nice. It’s one of the priciest event venues in downtown Portland. We had to book it last year to make sure we could get it for senior prom.” And even then, my dad had to call in a favor.
“So, your date better have a nice suit, then.”
I can’t breathe. “I-in theory, but I don’t have a date to prom yet.”
“How is that possible?”
Because I turned down everyone who’s asked me. Because I’m waiting for you.He has to know that. Half of the invitations came from his soccer teammates. There’s no way they haven’t talked about it. “I haven’t really thought about a date,” I lie. “I’ve been a little busy lately.”
“Do you have a dress?”