So on Thursday, I drive home to my parents’ house as soon as the bell rings to signal the end of the school day. I change my clothes and drive to the campus—it only takes a few minutes. It really is right on the edge of our parents’ neighborhood—prepared to grovel if I have to.
The school is small for a university—three commercial buildings of sand-colored stucco and large reflective windows on twenty acres that include parking lots and fields of Texas wildflowers—though I know it offers a limited number of niche health sciences programs.
One loop around the parking lot and I find Gage’s Jeep parked an easy distance from the back entrance to one of the buildings. Pulling into an empty parking spot nearby, I slowly count to ten to calm my jangling nerves.
I take my time climbing out of the car. I peek into the Jeep, and my memories transport me to the night Gage drove us back to camp after dinner with Maggie and her family. He cried on my shoulder about how much Maggie leaving had hurt him. And then I went and did the same thing, for the second time even.
I won’t blame him if he refuses to hear me out. I’ll be devastated, but it will be all my own fault.
I fiddle with the green rubber band bracelet on my wrist, tracing the letters with my fingertip. I can’t bring myself to take it off.
Leaning my back against the front bumper of the Jeep, I watch the door to the building. I realize that while I am nervous and unsure about how this whole thing will go, most of the trembling I feel down my arms and through my fingers is anticipation.
I miss Gage. Whether he forgives me or not today, I still get to see him and breathe the same air for a few moments at least.
When he walks out flanked by two classmates, my eyes find him right away. A breeze lifts the sandy hair off his forehead as he smiles at something the woman next to him is saying. He’s in light blue scrubs, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
He looks so good. It’s all I can do to stay rooted to the spot instead of running to him and throwing my arms around his neck. I force myself to wait.
His classmates peel off, turning down the sidewalk that leads to the front parking lot. They wave, and I hear calls of “See you tomorrow!” Gage lifts a hand in their direction, then tucks it in his pocket as he turns to walk toward his parking spot.
I know instantly when he sees me. He stops walking, and his eyes light up. My heart pounds as I wonder what that means. But then, as if remembering, he takes a step back and his expression dims.
He walks toward me slowly, pausing on the sidewalk three feet away from me. I search his expression, but it’s unreadable. I can tell he’s being cautious about opening up to me, as he should. Still, the pain stabs at my chest, and with anticipation out of the way, now I’m all nerves.
Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long; I wanted to be whole when I stood in front of him and bared my heart and soul.
“What are you doing here, Olivia?” His voice is steady, almost sharp in its indifference.
I swallow and wring my hands together to stop them from shaking. “I … I got a job.”
His expression softens enough to reassure me to keep going. “Yeah?” he asks.
I bob my head, ending with my chin tucked as I look at my shoes. “Yeah. It’s the PE teacher job at that charter school in North Austin? The—”
“The Brightline School for Science,” he finishes.
I lift my head to snap my eyes to his. He’s still guarded, but the fact that he remembered the name of the school must mean something.
“That’s great, Olivia. Congratulations.” His tone is flat, but it’s the kind of monotone that feels intentional, like he’s forcing his voice to sound disinterested.
“Um, how’s school going?”
Finally, the first ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “Really good.” The smile fades as he holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my palms sweat.
“What are you doing here, Olivia?” he repeats.
“I’m sorry.” The words rush out of me. I pause, taking a breath to help my brain slow down and focus on the speech I practiced in the mirror ten times this morning before work. “I used you, and I lied to you. I led you on.”
Gage is shaking his head. “You didn’t really lead me on. You were clear from the beginning what you wanted from me.”
I hold up a hand. “But I was lying. I’ve been in love with you all summer.” I pause. “Longer actually.”
Gage’s eyes widen at the “love” part, but I’m on a roll now and can’t stop. “The worst part is how I left. I should have had a conversation with you like you wanted instead of running off in the middle of the night.”
There were a lot of should haves and a lot of regrets.
“Why?” Gage asks. His expression is still stoic but his voice cracks, belying some of the emotion he’s trying to keep hidden.
