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I wish I’d remembered to grab my mug of iced coffee from Caleb’s car. By the time we leave, it’ll be watered down and warm. I pull off my sweatshirt and drape it on the bleachers next to me as the temperature continues to rise.
Excited chatter sounds to my right, and that’s how I know the team must have arrived. I shade my eyes, watching as guys enter the dugout in pairs and trios. Caleb isn’t in any of the groups. Finally, I spot him walking toward the field, talking to an older man in a polo shirt who looks like the head coach. An assortment of trainers trail behind them.
I don’t think I’m imagining how the level of noise in the stands corresponds with Caleb’s arrival. But I tune out the chatter and focus my attention on the field.
My eyes stay in place, but my brain roams. I’m on a college campus. And not just any college campus, a school that sent me a letter offering a place here.
It was one thing to consider that in the abstract, another thing tobehere. It wasn’t just the logistics of Gramps and the horses that kept me from visiting Caleb until now. I was apprehensive about what visiting a college campus could be like.
I didn’t tour any universities when I was in high school. I’m completely out of my element, but there’s a flicker of excitement, of interest, about imagining what it would be like to be a Clarkson student.
“Excuse me. Where did you buy that sweatshirt?”
My head turns to the right as soon as I register the question. A redheaded girl seated one row behind me is leaning forward, her focus aimed my way so there’s no mistake about who she’s talking to. The three girls seated beside her are also looking at me. I glance down at the sweatshirt next to me. “Um, I didn’t buy it. It’s from my high school.”
“It’s gotWinterson it. I’ve never seen it in the school store. They only carry his jersey, not sweatshirts.”
Up until this exact moment, I had no idea you could buy clothes with Caleb’s name on them. And I wasn’t aware girlswantedto buy them. Learning that’s the case throws me for more of a loop than seeing how many of them were in his living room last night did. “It has his name on it becausehegave it to me.”
The redhead’s eyes widen. She glances at her friends, who look equally stunned. “YouknowCaleb Winters?”
Hearing people say Caleb’s name with awe and admiration isn’t new. The need to stake my claim, or mark my territory, or whatever you want to call it,isnew. I’ve never had to explain our relationship to a stranger.
“Yes.” I nod, then quickly stand and grab the sweatshirt.
Leaning against the metal fencing that surrounds the baseball field sounds more appealing than continuing this conversation. The team has gathered by one of the dugouts. I hope that means their practice is almost over. I’m starving.
“Wait!” the girl practically shouts.
Everyone in the immediate vicinity glances over, so I can’t pretend I didn’t hear her. I glance back.
“How well do you know him?” the redhead asks.
“What do you mean?” I know exactly what she means. I want her to say it.
“Are you two friends, or…”
“We’ve been dating for three years.” My back-the-hell-off tone registers, but she doesn’t look affected by the warning in it. Instead, she looks me up and down, then says, “Okay.”
I continue down the bleachers, not bothering to say anything else. I’ve never been worried about Caleb cheating on me. But this is my least favorite part of being Caleb Winters’s girlfriend: the attention.
The interest.
I didn’t have to deal with it in high school. I’ve been protected from most of it since we officially got together. It’s not that I didn’t think girls here would be interested in him. It’s just different, seeing it for myself.
I reach the chain-link fence and lean one shoulder against it, hoping that girl doesn’t think she chased me off. I pull out my phone and text Cassie.
Lennon:Did you know you can buy clothes with Caleb’s name on it?
Less than a minute later, my phone begins to buzz. When I answer, Cassie is laughing. “Did you seriouslynotknow?”
“How would I know? Half the kids in my classes wear pajamas every day. Not sports stuff.” To be fair, the community college I’ve taken classes at for the past three years doesn’t even have any sports teams to represent.
“So, you’re at Clarkson?”
“Yeah.” I scuff the toe of my sneaker in the dirt. “I missed him. And…I got in here. Figured I should take a look at the campus.”
“You got into Clarkson? Congrats, Lennon! That’s a big deal.”
