RYNE: I hate centipedes.
RYNE: And millipedes.
RYNE: They freak me the fuck out. All those nasty little legs.
I cough to cover my laugh.
ME: Um… ok. That’s random.
RYNE: My aunt is obsessed with Rick Astley and I kinda low-key like him too.
This time my cough does nothing to cover my laugh. Coach King looks over at me and I grimace and smile in anI’m sorrykind of way and try to pretend I’m paying attention.
ME: What’s going on? Why did Evan bring me old pictures of y’all?
Old and not so old. And there’s that y’all again.
RYNE: Did he now? Hmm. Interesting.
RYNE: I talked to Nathan. I’m not playing soccer in college or after.
My eyebrows fly sky-high.
ME: Really? Wow.
RYNE: Pretty sure you’re texting a future architect right now.
My mind drifts back to the falls, to him talking about being an architect if things were different. I smile as I read his text again. He took control over his future and is going to do what he wants, and that is totally and completely epic.
ME: That’s amazing. I’m happy for you.
RYNE: Thanks.
ME: I decided what I want to do. I want to get into event planning or fundraising, something like that.
RYNE: That’s great, D. I’m happy for you, too.
ME: Thanks :) Now I just have to figure out where I want to go. I’ve been checking into some schools not far from here.
The bubbles that show me he’s typing start and stop for at least thirty seconds before his next message comes through.
RYNE: I thought you were going to school in NY.
ME: What? No. My brother wishes but I don’t want to move back to NY.
RYNE: I’m glad.
* * *
In the second period,I have a hard time concentrating on Mr. Monroe. Ryne’s eyes found mine as soon as he entered the room, and they were trained on me the entire time he walked over to the desk to my left and sat down. He’s a few feet away but I can practically feel his warmth on my skin. My phone lights up again.
RYNE: My favorite Christmas movie is White Christmas.
My smile deepens into dimple territory.
ME: I never took you for a Bing Crosby fan.
RYNE: I like Dean Martin, too.
