Page 48 of You Belong With Me

She looked like she was sucking on a lemon, and I really expected the next words out of her mouth to be,No, I’m not.But she dropped her chin in what could almost be considered a nod and said, “I’m doing my best to be okay with it.”

I guess that was all I could ask for right now. For her to try. I knew I’d let this go on for too long without saying anything and that it might take until I went off to college for her to really let go, but maybe we could take a step forward now.

“I’m gonna do just fine on my own, you know,” I told her. “Without you trying to mold me into the perfect kid. Because it was never about my potential, was it, Mom? It was always about not embarrassing you.”

She couldn’t deny that. She’d said it just this afternoon, told me that I embarrassed her in front of all her friends by performing dead last. She never even stopped to ask how I felt, if something had gone wrong, if there was some reason that I hadn’t performed well. It was always what other people thought above all else.

She stood up and came over, she brushed her hand over the side of my face, just like she had done a million times before, like she had been doing every day for the past three years. Then she said words that I never thought I would hear from her. “I’m sorry.”

For the second time that night, my brain short-circuited at the words, certain that I’d heard them wrong. “You’re sorry?” I repeated, wondering if I’d imagined them.

Mom hummed and brushed some of my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry for putting our reputation above our love for you.”

I hadn’t realized until now how much those were the words I needed to hear until she said them, but suddenly, it was like I could breathe again after drowning for months. I threw my arms around her in a hug and she let out a startled laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d hugged. And especially not the last time it had been genuine like this.

“Just one more thing,” Mom said as I pulled back. For a second, I was worried she was going to say something that would undo all the good she’d just done. But then, she tugged at the sleeve of the varsity jacket I still had on and asked, “Whose is this?”

I should have realized she would notice that it wasn’t Dean’s, but I’d had so many other things on my mind that it didn’t even occur to me. I briefly debated not telling her, mostly because I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion on what was going on between me and Sebastian. If she didn’t support us being together, I didn’t want to know. But I also knew it would be taking a massive step backwards to lie or withhold the truth right now. I’d wanted my mom back. I’d wanted her to take an interest in my life and to be able to share my feelings. This was the first step toward doing that.

“It’s Sebastian Novak’s,” I said. I anxiously tugged at the sleeves, pulling them down over my hands again as I waited for her reaction. She raised her eyebrows, looking surprised but not necessarily upset.

“Are you two…dating?” She sounded bewildered by the word as she said it. I wondered whether it was becausebefore now, she wouldn’t have considered letting me date or if it was because she really couldn’t imagine me, shy little Eleanor, to be going out with a guy.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. I thought of Sebastian in the car earlier tonight, asking if he could kiss me. We hadn’t spoken about anything beyond that, but now I wondered. “I’ll get back to you.”

twenty-five

I wasn’tsure how I knew that Sebastian would be at the field that night. It was like some intuitive sense inside me, pulling me to him. After I showered, getting all the grossness of the evening off me, I’d decided to go for a walk without any particular destination in mind. But when I realized my feet had carried me to the elementary school, I knew that was where he would be.

I came around the long way, walking through the back gates and down the bleachers to watch him on the field. My flip-flops slapped the bottom of my feet with every step I took down the steps between the bleachers and I wondered at what point Sebastian might hear me. But, much like when he’d been sitting on the curb a couple of nights ago, he seemed to be lost in his own world, not hearing anything around him. I came to a stop at the bottom row of the bleachers, leaning against the railing that divided them from the field, and watched him.

I still knew nothing about soccer, though I felt like I should probably learn some more about it if I was going tospend this much time with Sebastian. Maybe I should ask him to teach me how to play. I watched him run up and down the field with the ball, doing some funny maneuvers as if he was dodging imaginary opponents. I wondered if soccer was to him what swimming was to me—a way to relax and unwind, to temporarily forget about life’s problems. Sometimes I struggled to align that with the competitive side of the sport, the need to be better than everyone else in the pool. Maybe he was the same. I found it funny how obsessed he was with soccer, to the point of coming to play on his own like this, but maybe that was the point—he needed a time to just enjoy the sport without the pressure of everyone watching.

It took him so long to notice me that I began to wonder if he actually did know I was here but was pretending he didn’t because he was happy for me to just watch him play. But that theory was shot down when he looked over, saw me, did a double take, then tripped over the ball and nearly face-planted.

It was a really graceful move.

He smiled sheepishly as he caught his balance again, then grabbed the ball and jogged over to me, where I was still leaning against the railing.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked.

I stuck my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans that I’d changed into after my shower, wanting to get all remnants of the night off me. But, of course, I was still wearing his varsity jacket. That was the one piece of my outfit I wasn’t going to take away yet.

“I wanted to find you,” I said. “We never did finish our conversationin the car.”

“We didn’t?”

I shook my head. “See, you told me all about how you feel about me. But I didn’t get the chance to tell you how I feel about you.”

His face spread into that smile that I loved so much. “Well then, how do you feel about me?”

It had only been less than forty-eight hours ago that I’d stood on this very field and imagined standing on my tiptoes and brushing my lips against his, but so much had changed since then. I dropped down so I could climb under the railing and onto the field, coming to a stop in front of him.

There was no game this time. No camera. No excuse. There was no reason for us to kiss—nothing other than if he really wanted me and I really wanted him.

I didn’t wait. I reached up and curled my fingers into the front of his T-shirt, tugging him closer. I wasn’t sure if I was the one to close the gap or if he was, but before I knew it, his lips were on mine. He moved soft and slow, not rushing his way through this, but really taking the time to enjoy it. The time to let me savour it. My hands slid up his hard chest and shoulders, finally coming to rest behind his neck. As a swimmer, I was an expert at holding my breath and I put it to good use now, staying in the kiss as long as I could before I needed to pull away for a gasp of air. But even as I pulled away, I didn’t step back. I kept my hands on him, desperately needing to hold onto the physical connection between us, and searched his eyes. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for—regret for leading me on? But all I saw was a steady gaze staring back at me.

“I guess that’s how I feel,” I said, breathing hard.

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