Page 183 of These Secret Years

Graduation

In the last four years, I’ve had four perfect nights. Four nights I wouldn’t change a thing about. That first night at The Front where I met the people I was meant to know, who would be there for me and support me through anything, including Knight, of course.

The second night was spring of sophomore year when I followed Knight’s truck out into the woods, and he fucked me like he loved me—because he did, in fact, actually love me. There was the Christmas night I’ll never forget in the old, abandoned lake house with the man I knew held my heart in his large, generous hands, and there’s tonight. Graduation night.

Not the graduation itself where I walked across the stage to accept my bachelor’s degree while my mom, dad, sister, William, and Davy cheered for me all in a loud clump way too close to the stage for my liking. Or the parties afterward where I hopped around with Chelsea and Shannon and the film kids to other fine arts grads’ houses and enjoyed their free beer. And it wasn’t even because of the gift Deandre, Dillon, and Derek sent me—a whole new fucking car so I could finally ditch the Audi, although that in and of itself pushed the night a little closer into the top spots.

It wasn’t any of those things, though that did it. It was after all of that. After the parties and the dinner with my ragtag family and the joyride I took my sister on in the new Four Runner. It was after Shannon and I came up with our first true collaboration while sitting on someone’s back porch as I hummed out a tune in front of everyone listening while I was high on whatever blend was in the vape pen being passed around and buzzed from a second shot of tequila.

It was the best night the second I saw Knight running out of the raging house party toward my new car, checking over his shoulder to see that no one was watching where he was going, all the while grinning like a dope and hauling ass toward me, as agile as the latest first round draft pick for the NFL should be able to run so he can show all the coaches in Chicago that they made the right choice.

Needless to say, the last NFL season didn’t go as planned for most of the NFL teams and Chicago wound up with an injured and soon to be retired quarterback and the second to last spot in the draft. They traded someone else to get a first round pick, and of course, that pick was Knight Winters—two time Heisman trophy winner and the greatest quarterback who’s ever played in the SEC.

“This is so comfortable,” he says before reaching for the back of my head to bring me in for a quick kiss. “Where are you taking me?”

“Camping.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He pumps the air with his fist as I pull away from the curb. I hand him a bottle of water, and he chugs it the same way I did when I got into the car. He tells me about his night, and I tell him about mine as we make our way out of town and into the nearby state park. He’s laughing and beautiful and happy. I’m happy, too.

We don’t have long until he leaves for Chicago—half the summer—but we’re going home with plans to stay in the lake house and fix it up. Not entirely, but enough to keep the elements out and ensure it doesn’t fall into the lake. According to his mom, there are still no interested buyers, but Knight convinced her to give him one last try to make it sellable.

I suspect he intends to buy it soon but wants to keep it a surprise. It means too much to both of us now to let it go to just anyone. At least, I hope it does.

In the woods at two a.m., Knight and I erect a tent, start a fire, and blow up an air mattress before opening the Yeti.

“Snacks,” he says when he sees the sandwiches I brought. “Thank God.”

I grab the two chairs from the back of the Four Runner and open them up next to the fire. He wolfs down a sandwich, cracks open a beer, hands me one, too, and we finally sit to look up at the stars.

“What a fucking day.”

We reach for each other’s hands at the same time. Realizing this, I glance at him to find him grinning back at me. “Hey you,” I say.

“Hey. This is perfect.”

“Well, the apartment’s a mess, so…”

“It’s a gorgeous night.”

“And I’ve always liked being in the woods with you.”

“Same here.”

We clink bottles and sip, still staring at each other, the light from the fire casting beautiful shadows and highlights on his perfect face.

“I guess we made it,” I say.

“So far.”

“The plan is to keep going. In case you were worried I changed my mind.”

“I always worry you’ll change your mind,” he says.

“That’s why I have to keep reminding you I won’t.”

“Chicago’s not that far. Not half as bad as what we were thinking.”

“I know, and like you said, the season doesn’t last forever. You’ve turned me into a believer.”