Page 113 of Hate You, Maybe
Today’s the finale of our presentation, though. The “coup de grâce,” as Mr. Wilford put it during our faculty update before school. That’s when Raneé, our French teacher, pointed out that the phrase “coup de grâce” is more commonly used to mean dealing a fatal blow. For the record, we’re really hoping not to blow today.
Or to suck either.
Sayla and I just want to pass this assessment with flying colors and give our departments the funding they need. She refuses to tell me what her plan is, though. She claims it will be better if I don’t know. More impactful in the moment. And maybe she’s right. In any case, I’ve decided to trust her.
The woman’s earned that by trusting me back.
“She makes me stupidly happy,” I tell Loren, a warmth spreading behind my ribs. “For the first time in a long time.”
“On that note.” Loren nods at the field where Sayla ishooting and hollering at the team, clapping and jumping up and down. “I get the feelingshemight be happy for the first timeever.”
I’m quiet for a beat, listening to the cheers from the crowd behind me, soaking up this moment we’ve worked so hard for. But also fighting back the pinch of fear in my chest. Caring about someone as much as I care for Sayla wasn’t on my radar. In fact, I spent the past twenty years keeping it off.
Loren nudges my shoulder. “What’s with the face?”
Huh. I hadn’t realized I was making one.
My gut reaction is always to deflect, so I almost brush off the question. But these days, thanks to Sayla, I’m trying to be more open. More real. More myself. For decades, I played the clown for my family and the silly charmer around school. But that just kept people at a distance. I wasn’t showing anyone the man underneath.
“The truth is,” I say, squinting out at the field, “I can’t imagine losing her now. And I know this shift probably looks like it’s happening too fast, but I’ve known Sayla for years. So we didn’t start out as strangers.”
“You can say that again.” Loren smirks. “You started as her archenemy.”
“Heh.”
“But I get it,” Loren says. “Sayla’s the best, and I’m glad you’re seeing that side of her now. I’m glad she’s finally seeing it, too.”
“Oh, I see it all right. When I’m around her, I feel this sense of peace and contentment, you know? Like, I can’t relax if she isn’t with me. I think I’m already addicted to her.”
Loren narrows her eyes. “But you can’t talk her out of going to Carolina Arts if that’s what she wants, Dex. I won’t either, as much as I hope she sticks around.”
My guts twinge. “You think she’ll end up leaving?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Loren admits. “But the decision might depend on what happens with the grant.”
“I want to do right by her,” I say, “but I can’t imagine letting her go now. I just got to know her. To need her.”
Loren stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “The thing is, Sayla can’t be responsible for your happiness, Dex. And you aren’t responsible for hers. That kind of pressure isn’t healthy for anyone. The peace and contentment you talked about have to come from inside you, first. That’s when you’ll be able to bring your best self to her.”
“So.” I take a beat. “First happiness in yourself. Then with someone else?”
“Exactly.”
I let out a laugh. “How did you get to be so wise, huh?”
“Trust me.” She snorts. “I’m still pretty dumb when it comes to my own life.”
“Ah, come on. Your future’s nothing but bright. Engaged to a doctor. Great job.” I bump her elbow. “New friends who are pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”
“So the silly charmer and I are officially friends now,” she says.
“I’d like to think so.”
“Good. I was on your side from the beginning, you know. I told her you were a babe. Like Zac Efron. The bearded one.”
“I’ll take it,” I say.
“But I’ll always be Team Sayla.”
