Page 68 of Poetry By Dead Men
"I just couldn’t wait to see you." He squeezes me back, kissing my hair.
"You must have made poor Patrick drive all night," I say, lowering my chin as if scolding him.
He waves a hand in the air. "Patrick loves driving at night. He'd prefer to be the only one on the road," he says, handing me a bouquet of pink wild roses.
I take a deep inhale of the sweet floral scent. "Thank you. How was Maine?? I press a kiss to his cheek before turning back to the box I'm unpacking, pulling out some fresh notebooks. "Any proposals?" I ask. It's become our new joke, because when I anticipated 'Someone Who Loves You'becoming the song to use for weddings and proposals, I was spot on.
Bobby grabs a box off the floor and rips the tape off to help unpack it. "Actually, two different couples got engaged last night. They didn't necessarily seem thrilled to be sharing the spotlight.”
"Then they should come up with a more original idea," I joke.
Bobby's jaw drops open in mock outrage. "What? But that's how I planned on proposing to you!" He grabs my arm and pulls me against him, leaning down to kiss me again. "It’syoursong, after all."
Bobby could propose to me in a McDonald’s parking lot with a french fry ring, and I would be thrilled. This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned wanting to marry me, but that doesn’t lessen the effect of his words. My heart starts to flutter and my stomach twists into knots. I know we’re still way off from an actual proposal, but it’s fun to think about forever with him.
When he pulls away, I'm breathless. "Back to the drawing board, I guess," he says as he returns to the box.
"I’ll say yes, no matter how you ask me, Bobby Beckett," I say. "Hand me those pens, will you?"
He digs through the box until he finds the bag of pens I'm talking about, tossing them to me to put into my desk. "Hey, what's this?" he asks, pulling out a thick navy-blue packet. Flipping it over, Bobby trails his finger across the return address. "London, England?"
I snatch the packet from his hands. "Nosy much?" I ask, shoving the papers underneath a textbook. "It's nothing."
Bobby turns and faces me, crossing his arms. "The London Institute of Literature and Creative Writing? That doesn't exactly sound like nothing."
Shit.
There's a reason I didn't tell Bobby about the study abroad opportunity, and it mostly has to do with the fact that I didn't think there was a chance in hell I'd get it. But part of it is also that now that I've been accepted, I don't want to go.
"What's with the secrecy? We don't keep things from each other." Bobby's forehead creases.
I sit down on the bed. "It's really not a big deal. My Lit 101 professor had me apply. It was a long shot that I'd get accepted and didn't seem all that important."
"Are you kidding me?" Bobby comes to sit next to me, abandoning the box he was unpacking.
I sigh, grabbing the acceptance letter from under the textbook and handing it to him. I am proud I was accepted into the program, even if I don't plan on taking the spot.
Bobby's eyes scan the page, bright and excited. "This is amazing, Beth. And you get class credit for this? I'm so proud of you. When does it start?"
I press my lips together. "After Christmas break. But I'm not taking it," I say in one breath.
"Are you kidding me? Look at this—England, Italy, Austria. You'll get to travel all over Europe." He points to a line in the packet. "This sounds like your absolute dream."
"It's an entire year," I say, as if that's the only explanation I need.
Bobby turns us so that I’m now leaning against the headboard. "What's this really about, Beth? This is an incredible opportunity."
"I know it is, but a year? We said we'd do Europe together once your tour takes you there. I can still see all those places.Just… later. Plus, I don’t want to leave Molly right now, or school. I’m finally finding my place here."
Bobby chews on the side of his lip, taking his hat off and flipping it backward. "I want you to be honest with me. Please," he says, bending down to look directly in my eyes, and I know what's coming.
My stomach falls. I can't lie to him. I never have, and I don't plan on starting today.
"Does this have to do with me? About being so far away?"
I sigh, rubbing the space between my eyebrows. "Maybe a little, but it's not the entire reason. Look, you're starting your own tour in February. Headlining. Bobby, I'mnotgoing to miss that. There will be time for me to travel to Europe. Maybe I can even apply again next year," I say, even though I know I won’t get it again. This is a prestigious program with very limited spots. If I turn it down now, I’ll lose my chance. But I can live with that, because watching the love of my life headline his first tour is also a once in a lifetime opportunity.
And I wasn’t lying about my other reasons. I’ve found a solid group of friends here and gotten into a good routine with classes. Molly’s been having a tough time figuring out the career thing, not to mention the stress over Michael, and I can’t imagine being an ocean away from her right now.
