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He chuckles. “No. I wouldn’t ask her about my dad, either. I’d thank her for being the person who brought you into this world.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away from him. “For fuck’s sake, Caleb. You can’t justsaystuff like that to me.”
Caleb’s always been far better at expressing his emotions than I am, but it’s moments like these when I realize just how far out of my league I am with him in the romance department. I have no idea where he gets it from. His parents certainly aren’t a model relationship.
Caleb laughs and rolls onto his back. I climb onto him, settling on the center of his chest and listening to the reassuring thud of his heart.
“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” I whisper.
“What do you mean?” Caleb murmurs back.
“I mean that the first time I saw you, I never thought we’d end up here. Never thought you’d be the person I’d be lying beside almost eight years later.”
“Yeah, I think about it,” he murmurs.
I close my eyes and snuggle closer.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
LENNON
I’m in the library, studying for finals with Amanda and Eric, when my laptop pings with an incoming email. I glance at the screen automatically, then freeze. Click.
We are delighted to inform you that you’ve been selected to receive the Fulbright Fellowship…
That’s as far as I get, before a squeal leaves my lips.
“What?” Amanda asks.
Wordlessly, I spin the screen around so they can both look at the email.
“Holy…” Eric starts.
“Oh myGod, Lennon! That’s amazing!” Amanda says.
I’m still speechless. I thought applying was a long shot, at best. It never really occurred to me that I might actuallygetit.
“This calls for celebratory coffee!” Amanda decides, standing from the table.
We walk through the first floor of Clarkson’s library, which has quickly become my favorite building on campus. It looks like something you’d find in a medieval castle in Europe. Dark wood, majestic arches, and the soothing scent of old paper. It’s nothing like the metal shelves and generic tables in the Landry High library.
The walk to the nearest coffee shop isn’t a long one. The school’s architect must have figured studying and caffeine make sense in closer proximity. Amanda and Eric talk excitedly about the news. They both sound awed, their attention on me almost reverential.
I’m dazed, still in a state of shock, trying to remember the list of important papers the fellowship works closely with. It’s overwhelming, and I can’t decide if it’s in a good way. Options are good; choices are challenging.
Fallen leaves crunch with each step along the paved paths. Only a few curled shapes are stubbornly clinging to the branches overhead. It’s hard to believe the fall semester is almost over. That half my time at Clarkson is almost over.
We reach the coffee shop. I order first, then step to the side so Amanda can. It turns out Eric knows the barista, and Amanda and I exchange a conspiratorial glance when they keep chatting long after the amount of time it would take for him to choose a drink.
Finally, he joins us. Before any of our drinks arrive, the bell rings with another customer. It turns out to be Michelle Hodge, who usually sits behind me and Eric in our shared journalism class.
“Hey, guys,” she greets, walking over.
“Hi, Michelle,” Eric replies. “Guess what? Lennon got the Fulbright Fellowship! Can you believe it?”
Michelle glances at me. I’m expecting the disappointment on her face. Almost every journalism major at Clarkson applied. Including her, it seems.
But I’m not expecting the ire. “Must be nice to know people in high places.” She scoffs.
