Page 116 of False Start

But even as the words came out, it felt so perfectly Trent: an absolute showboat of a car, cocky but surprisingly versatile. He was born to drive an El Camino.

He heaved a sigh, opening the door for me. “I missed the Cougar, and I was thinking about our next rally.”

Ournext rally.

“Trent,” I whispered.

There couldn’t be another rally. I’d already lost my heart to Trent on the first. I’d never recover from a second. Even if I could keep us strictly friends.

He took the flowers from my hand and set them on the hood of the car, pinning me between the open door and the car.

“I miss when you called me Texas,” he breathed. His hand cupped my cheek. “Our next rally, Kitten. You and me and this El Camino.”

A “yes” lodged in my throat, but I couldn’t force it past the lump in my throat. I sucked in a breath, pushing him away. “We should go, or else I’m going to miss my graduation.”

His mossy green eyes searched mine before stepping back with a nod.

I sat in a sea of blue graduation gowns on the floor of the Norwalk Arena and Civic Center while onlookers found seats. The university president patted the microphone on stage, a buzz of feedback shocking the crowd into silence.

I’d given up on looking for Trent. Friends and family of nearly 500 graduates packed the bottom bowl of the 10,000-seat arena. The crowd was a sea of anonymous faces, and I tapped my foot, eager for the ceremony to finish. Though how I’d find Trent afterwards was beyond me.

The graduation ceremony began, and I focused on the speakers on-stage. They talked about the future, about education, about growing. The bright-eyed twenty-year-olds around me listened with rapt attention but my focus kept slipping to the conversation Trent and I had almost shared.

Our next rally.

I hated how much I wanted it to be true. But I had to put up a firm wall between myself and Trent before the football season did it for us. As much as I wanted to play in the space between friendship and romance, I wouldn’t recover as easily as Trent when he inevitably drifted away.

The row in front of me stood up to file onto the stage. They received their diplomas one-by-one, shaking hands with the president and then cocking their heads toward their screaming loved ones.

A quick stab of sadness ripped through me. I should have called my mom and invited her. Hell, I should’ve asked Derek to come. Trent would be a cheering section of one, and while I appreciated his support, I couldn’t help wishing I’d asked someone who would still be in my life come fall.

“Hey, we gotta walk.” A guy from my virology class tapped my shoulder, pointing toward the empty seats beside me.

I stood up, shuffling in my heels to close the gap my daydreaming had caused.

The speaker called the semi-familiar names of my classmates one-by one, pausing between each for the muted applause and obnoxious yelling from their friends and family.

“Katherine Holden.”

I stepped onto the stage, stopping mid-step, stunned by a roar of screaming and cheering.

Just past the stage in the front two rows sat not just Trent, but Derek, Gavin, my mom, my coworkers, the Foul Boules. I bit back tears, willing my feet to move and accept my diploma even as graduates and spectators turned in their seats to search for the source of all that noise.

Cheers. For me.

In a fog, I moved off the stage, waving at my friends and family.

“You did it, Kitten!” Trent whooped.

Shakily, I walked back to my seat, ducking my head to wipe my tears. The graduation droned on as more graduates filed across the stage. I hiked up my gown, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

Did you fly my mom back to Virginia for my graduation?

TRENT

Are you supposed to be texting right now?

How did you convince everyone to show up here?

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