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“Hey, Maxwell.” I bump his fist when he reaches my side.
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”
“Could say the same to you,” I reply.
Drew grins. “Blame Jessica Oxford.” I roll my eyes. Drew’s smirk fades, as he studies me. “Everything good with you? We were all worried.”
I was vague with the guys about the reason for my delayed return to Clarkson. They all know I have a serious girlfriend, but I’ve kept Lennon and my life in Landry almost entirely separate from who I am at Clarkson. And it didn’t feel right to mention Earl. Doing so would seem like passing Lennon’s loss off as my own.
“I’m good.”
Drew nods. “Glad to hear it. Anderson’s arm sucks.”
“He’s better than you could throw,” I retort.
“Yeah, but I’m not the back-up pitcher,” he replies, heading for the stairs. “Nice monkey suit, by the way,” he calls over one shoulder.
As he disappears upstairs, there’s a pounding sound that suggests Elliot’s descending them. Sure enough, he appears seconds later, dragging a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
“Thank fuck,” he breathes when he sees me. “Dude, I thought you had some sort of injury and couldn’t figure out how to break it to us.”
“Nope. I’m healthy as a horse,” I reply, heading for the stairs myself. “Going to get changed.”
Out of all the guys I live with, Elliot is most likely to ask questions. Part of me would love to get the perspective of an unbiased observer, but I also know it would never do what Lennon and I have justice. Most of our history is woven in moments and memories impossible to explain. Telling someone my girlfriend’s grandfather died and she’s been mostly distant since doesn’t describe the situation accurately.
“All right,” Elliot replies as I pass him. He eyes the suit I’m wearing, but doesn’t comment or ask why I’m dressed up.
My room is the last one on the second floor. It overlooks the big oak behind the house. It’s also the largest, which I learned when Drew took it upon himself to measure each bedroom. Unfortunately for him, I’d already chosen this one.
I change quickly, then check my phone. I skip past all the messages except two. The first is from my mom. It’s a paragraph explaining she didn’t mean to upset me earlier. At least, that’s what the first two lines are about. I skim them, then skip to the end. It’s a request to let her know when I’ve arrived on campus. I’m certain she’s got my phone on a tracking app but I respond anyway, letting her know I have.
The other text is from Lennon.
Lennon:You back?
I reply to let her know I have, then gnaw on my bottom lip as I consider what else to say. Asking how she is won’t go over well. Neither will inquiring if she’s eaten.
Caleb:I miss you.
There’s no immediate response, so I shove my phone back into my shorts, pull on my sneakers, and head downstairs. My other two housemates, Garrett and Jamie, are already downstairs. They pause to welcome me back, then continue rushing around, grabbing everything they need for our weight session.
We all pile into Garrett’s Explorer to head to campus. The guys fill the short trip by complaining about the hundred-yard shuttles and sled pulls during practice this morning.
I “uh-huh” and “hmmm” along to their complaints, more focused on the weight of the phone in my pocket. Waiting—hoping—for it to buzz.
It doesn’t.
There’s an audible stir when the five of us enter Clarkson’s athletic complex. A few guys from other sports teams stop to slap hands. Girls wearing tight spandex slow as they pass us. Drew and Jamie engage most of them, rolling their eyes at me when I don’t pause.
Aside from baseball, it’s the main thing I’m known for on campus. Even at the start of freshman year, when I was technically single, I didn’t hook up with anyone. It’s well known that I have a girlfriend, but since Lennon has never so much as visited campus, plenty of people pretend not to.
My phone buzzes in my pocket right as we enter the weight room. I whip it out so quickly it’s a miracle I don’t tear the mesh material. And it’s not a random news alert or social media notification. It’s from her.
Lennon:I miss you too.
Air leaves my lungs in a much-needed exhale. It’s not that I doubted she did or would. It’s that I needed her to say it.
“Winters!”
