Page 27 of From Now On

“For poli sci?”

“Yeah.”

Another surprise.

“Where are you going to grad school?”

“Not sure yet. I applied to ten different schools wanting to have options, and now—now I have to pick one. I used hockey as an excuse to put it off, but now that the season’s over…” He shrugs.

“Well, how many schools did you get into?”

“Ten.”

“Ten,” I repeat. “As in, every school you applied to? You got into every school you applied to?”

“Yep.” There’s no bravado in his voice.

IfIwas a genius, I’d brag about it.

“Wow. I—wow. Congrats, Hunter.”

He smiles a little. “Thanks.”

“So unfair that you’re smart too.”

Another full, heart-stopping grin appears. “Too, huh?”

“I mean, you’re athletic. And most athletes aren’t academics. I mean, notmost. I don’t really know many athletes, and I didn’t think you were dumb. Or that anyone is, that’s a really mean thing to say, I just…” I exhale. “Congrats on being smartandathletic. I’m going to shut up now.”

I should have sat in the car when he suggested it. I’m going to have to pretend to sleep for the rest of the drive so I can’t say anything else embarrassing.

When I gather enough courage to sneak a peek at him, Hunter is grinning at the wheel he’s working on. The old one is off already. He’s attaching the spare. “What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“What’s your post-grad plan?”

“Oh. Uh…” I run my tongue along the backs of my teeth, stalling.

I used to enjoy talking about my plan. Back when it wasn’t only my plan. Ben backing out didn’t just devastate me because he was my boyfriend. It made me question everything.

I saw a dream. He saw a risky bet.

Am I just fooling myself, thinking I’ll be able to make it in New York? I’m not afraid of hard work, but Iamintimidated by failure. I’ve saved as much as I can from summer jobs, but that still adds up to a sad total. A sad total that would stretch a lot further in Chandler. I think my mom has reluctantly accepted my move to New York, but she still makes a point to mention I could paint in Arizona almost every time we talk.

Be practicalwas my mom’s mantra. Because she had limited choices. She chose a career that allowed her to stay home with me and not have to pay for childcare. She stayed in the same town she grew up in because it was familiar.

But I’m not sixteen and pregnant. I can be selfish.

And my dad? My dad hasn’t even bothered to ask the question Hunter just did.

Hunter’s still waiting for an answer. Not in a way that makes me think he’s impatient or just trying to be polite, more that he’s asking because he actually wants to know the answer.

“I’m moving to New York,” I tell him. “Hopefully to be a full-time artist, but probably to wait tables or bartend. Whatever pays the rent.”

For some reason, I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.

“Good for you.”

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