Page 109 of Hate You, Maybe
“Okay, good.” I exhale a sigh of relief. “So I think we should talk to him about this on Monday. Before school. We can go see him together. Or if you want to tell him alone, I’ll understand.”
“I can’t.” Dex drops his gaze, and a divot pits his forehead. He looks so sad, my heart squeezes. If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past few weeks, it’s that this man is loyal. Leaving Stony Peak, even for a better position, will probably be very hard for him.
“If you want, I can tell Mr. Wilford for you,” I offer gently.
“You can’t tell him either.”
“I don’t mind.” My voice is soft.
“No.”
“But …” I lower my head, trying to make eye contact. “Why not?”
“Because, Sayla.” He lifts his gaze. “I’m not transferring to Harvest High.”
The giant, king-sized bed might as well be ripped right out from under me. “But Dr. Dewey said?—”
“I know what Dr. Dewey said,” he interrupts. “I didn’t accept the offer then. And I’m not going to take it. Ever. Stony Peak is my home. And I’d think you of all people would understand that.”
My throat is a bottle all corked up, but I swallow against the pressure. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you got hauled around your whole life jumping from town to town,” he says. “You couldn’twaitto settle down somewhere. To settle down here. In Harvest Hollow. At Stony Peak. That school is your life, Sayla. And it’s my life too. We’re both allowed to love it.”
I huff a breath, shaking my head. “No, you’re right,” I say. “Of course you’re right.” The disappointment pinching my chest must be written all over my face, because Dex’s whole expression twists. Like he just sucked on a lemon slice.
“I wasn’t trying to win,” he says.
“I know. You actuallytriedto lose this time.” A jagged laugh scrapes out of me. “And you still beat me. Which makes the situation even worse. And it’s probably selfish to look at this as my failure, but I can’t think beyond that right now.”
“I wish I could fix this,” he says. “But me going to Harvest High isn’t like trading director roles for a few weeks. Or even like getting that one-time grant money. This is my career, Sayla. My life.”
“I get that, Dex. I really do.” I fight the tide of emotion rising in my throat. “So now I’m thinking maybeIshould leave.”
“Don’t go.” He pushes to a stand, coming to sit beside me on the bed. “Just stay here and let’s talk this through. Please.”
“I’m not talking about leaving your apartment.” I fist my hands to avoid chewing my nails. “I’m talking about leaving Stony Peak.” I gulp, hardly believing the words myself. “When I was researching other programs for my grant proposal, I found this magnet school in Charlotte. The Carolina Arts Institute? Their performing arts department is incredible. I could reach out to them. They might have an opening for the upcoming school year. That would give Mr. Wilford time to find a replacement for me.”
Dex stares at me like frogs just leaped out of my mouth. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because.” I pause to gather my thoughts in the tumult of my brain. “It’s hardly fair of me to ask you to change schools if I’m not willing to do the same.” My voice hitches. “So I have to be willing.”
“Why do either of us have to leave?”
“Ever since the retreat, I let myself hope that everythingcould be different if you just transferred to Harvest High. I was going to get the grant money, for one thing. And for another, we wouldn’t be working together anymore. Or competing against each other.” My nose begins to sting. “I thought for once I wouldn’t have to be second-best all the time.”
“You aren’t second, Sayla.”
“I am, though,” I say softly. Resigned. “The FRIG just proves it once again.”
“So you’d rather move two hours away, to a whole other city, just so we’ll never run for faculty president at the same time? Make that make sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense, okay?” A sob rises in me. “None of this makes sense. All I know is, for my entire life, I’ve never felt like I was enough. If I had been, my mom might’ve been satisfied, just the two of us. But I was so not-enough, she kept running after men to find what was missing in me. I tried so hard to be good. To make her happy. I just wanted us to be okay. To stay somewhere. Anywhere. But I wasn’t enough for her then.” My breath hitches. “And I grew into this woman who’s too much for everyone now.”
“You’re not too much,” he protests.
“Aren’t I, though?” I sniffle. “I’m too intense. Too competitive. Too needy. People see my lists and clipboards coming from a mile away. And they run. I overwhelm everybody, Dex. And Iunderwhelmed my own mother.” I look down at my lap. “I’m never the right amount of … whelm. For anyone.”
“Hey.” He puts a finger under my chin, lifts it. “I happen to be a big fan of your whelm.”
