Page 83 of Faking Summer
I laughed in disbelief. "You're acting like you could be moving down the street—what if it’s somewhere across the country?" How could he be so nonchalant about this? I was just now letting him in—I had started to really like him. More than like, maybe. And even though I knew amazing things were coming for him, I couldn't help but wish for a pause button—a way to freeze time in this moment, before the inevitable drift began.
"Then we'll figure it out," he said, simply. I knew he was trying not to be too harsh about the reality of the situation. Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept the truth, but even if we did try to stay in touch, see each other when we could, we’d inevitably drift apart.
"You just have no stress in the world, do you?" I said, the words airy but edged. "I always have stress and worries, and anxiety. But you, nothing."
He chuckled, not needing to say anything else, apparently. I knew he understood why I was worried, even as he laid there, the epitome of calm in the face of our uncertain future. It was one of the things that drew me to him, this fact that he could somehow stand tall in any scary situation and not be moved. Yet here I was, perpetually on the edge, about to lose it, not knowing how he and I could possibly continue on this path together.
The warmth of his arms circled around me, drawing me further into the solid comfort of his chest. "Because that sounds like chaos to me."
thirty-four
Reese
"I personally hope you get drafted to Los Angeles," my sister said, flashing a grin over her shoulder at me. "Because I need a selfie with the Hollywood sign. Maybe even make a dance video nearby."
"You're starting to sound like a real cheerleader now."
"That's because I am," she squealed, then started placing items on her plate from the gourmet buffet that had been set up at the draft.
"Yeah, you are," I acknowledged, grabbing my elbow. "Heard you kicked ass at try-outs."
"The best part is that Wendy didn't make the team," she said with a slight grin. "But I can't really take all the credit because I had a good coach."
"Yeah, but you did the work," I told her, watching as she added salad to her plate last.
"I guess so. But anyway, are they really going to record us all night?" she asked, her gaze locked onto the camera flickering with a red recording light set up in the front of the room.
"Hopefully they only show a quick clip of our reactions." Thecouch’s cool leather pressed against my palms as I leaned back, looking through the glass window at the draft stage.
I unscrewed the cap of my water bottle and took a long swallow just as the door eased open. My stepmom slipped in, her arms immediately finding me in a tight embrace. "I am so proud of you. No matter what order you go in, first or last, you are the best in my eyes, and any team is so lucky to have you."
"Thank you," I said, still in her embrace. "But let's be real. We all know I'm going top five."
"He's going first," my dad announced, walking in after her. "No doubt about it."
With a small nod, I retreated further into the leather couch. My thumbs tapped across my phone screen, wondering what Caroline was doing right now.
"Heard some jackass was hosting a party in here like he's some big deal."
I looked up at the comment. Boston leaned lazily against the doorframe. Behind him, like a shadow, emerged our mother. My eyes darted to my dad in confusion.
"Son," he began, "I know you've been upset with me, but our relationship means more to me than you know." He paused, giving a nod toward Boston and my mom as he continued. "I can suck up being in a room with her if you want her to be part of your life. Today is about you and all the important people in your life supporting you."
He didn't wait for a response—he turned and retreated to the other side of the room where my sister and stepmom stood.
"Glad you’re both here," I said, greeting Boston and his mom—ourmom. My gaze shifted pointedly toward Boston, who was going to be having his own draft party next year. "Well, sort of glad he's here."
Boston smirked. "Yeah, keep talking, and watch you won't be drafted until tomorrow," he shot back.
"Yeah, you wish," I said, playfully.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the tears glossing Cindee’s eyes. Her hand, warm and trembling, found its way to my back. "Reese," she began, her voice quivering on the edge of emotion. "I knew today would be emotional, but getting to see you two getting along and being together… might be my favorite thing in the world."
“Just give us time. The ‘get along’ part might have an expiration of about twenty minutes," I joked as her face began to lighten.
"Yeah, don't go planning any family outings just yet,” Boston added.
The room started to fill with strangers as the draft began. My name was called second, and my time on the stage was almost dreamlike, like an out of body experience where every clap and cheer blurred together. I accepted my new team's baseball cap, and shook the MLB Commissioner’s hand before they allowed me to exit the stage.
