Page 5 of Headstrong Like Us
I rummage inside, sifting past a couple philosophy books. “I’ve been meaning to return something to you.” An avalanche of nerves flip-flops my insides. I stay more stoic as I find and hand him a folded black shirt.
Theblack shirt.
The one he threw off the yacht so I could staunch my bloody nose on the marina’s dock. All after a fistfight with Charlie.
Farrow stares at the shirt in his grip, and I sense his confusion brewing.
“It’s yours. From the summer bash—”
“Yeah, I remember.” He tucks the fabric nonchalantly in his back pocket. I thought he’d tease me about dry cleaning the shirt or folding it. He doesn’t do either. Instead, he says, “You forgot what I told you.”
“What?”
He smiles, one that flickers in and out. “On the yacht, I said you could keep the shirt.”
Yeah.
I couldn’t forget his words that night. My brain is too obsessed with him, but I don’t want to admit to Farrow that I remembereverything.Down to how he stacked beer cans in his hand and walked backwards while talking to me.
Even if telling him now would reinforce what an astounding, earth-shattering memory I have.
And I’m in my head for too long.
He must think I need clarification because he says, “Man, you didn’t have to give it back.”
“I wanted to. You’re my mom’s bodyguard now.” I’m three people away from the front of the line. “It didn’t seem right keeping it. But thanks, seriously.” No sarcasm, I think he can hear my sincerity.
Farrow combs a hand through his hair. “You’re welcome.”
The air strains with something unspoken.
We both face forward.
He speaks hushed into his mic, radio and gun holstered on his waistband.
He’s a bodyguard.
Farrow Keene abandoned a medical career and changed paths with the snap of a finger, and here I am, miserable in college. Unable to move in a new direction.
When I know, deep down, that I’d be happier if I were back home in Philly and pursuing something other than a degree.
I breathe in, a weightless feeling rushing through me.
I’m going to drop out of Harvard.
I look to my left, almost about to tell Farrow. But he’s concentrating on bodyguard duties, and I’m just in my head.
I focus on my family, and I buy three caramel apples. As I fish out my credit card, I glance back. Farrow is climbing up the slope with my parents in tow.
I don’t know why, but I smile.
1
MAXIMOFF HALE
PRESENT DAY
“Canyou wait like four seconds before you flip the page?” I ask my fiancé.
