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Neither of us say a word, the whole trip back.
CHAPTERFORTY
CALEB
My knee bounces nervously as I sit on the bench, waiting for Lennon. We’ve barely spoken since I drove her home last week, the day she learned she got the fellowship.
I did some research, as soon as I got back to my house after dropping her off. She was right; George Coleman is the chair.
I was more concerned with how all of the papers associated with the program are located in Boston, New York, or Los Angeles.
All cities home to professional baseball teams. Out of thirty, that gives me about a three percent chance of ending up in the same place as her.
We’ve overcome worse odds. I’d bet the number of couples who make it long distance for three years is pretty low.
But it won’t be easy.
Students start spilling out of the brick building. My knee bounces faster.
Tomorrow is the last day of finals. I’m going to New York, to attend a charity event my mom organized. Lennon is returning to Landry to stay with Cassie.
Neither of us have planned past that. Since an organized trip never came together, Colt wants to go to his folks’ lake house again. Jake is angling for a return trip to Aspen. How today goes will probably determine what I decide.
My mom invited Lennon to New York unprompted, which made me hope she really is changing her mind about us, which she managed to convince Lennon of over Thanksgiving. Lennon declined, since it’s Cassie’s birthday this weekend and she’s having a big party. And since she’s going back to Landry on Saturday, I feel like I have to do this today.
Lennon appears, talking with her friend Eric, who’s hanging on her every word. I don’t know if she actually believes he’s just extra friendly toward her instead of harboring a crush the size of Kentucky, but his interest is obvious even from this distance.
I didn’t tell her I was coming. So I’m half-expecting Lennon to pass by in the swarm of students instead of stopping. But I watch her say something to Eric and then walk this way, only stopping when she’s a foot away. He tracks her departure, only looking away when he catches me staring.
“Hi,” she says, then yawns. There are circles under her eyes, and her brown hair is knotted in a messy bun on the top of her head. She looks beautiful.
“Hey.” I stand. “Wanna go for a drive?”
Lennon eyes me carefully, obviously trying to figure out what’s going on. Weighing my mood, the same way I’m feeling her out.
The past few days are the longest we’ve gone without talking since we started dating. It’s felt weird, like I had a limb missing. But I get why she’s needed space. We both have big decisions to make and more complicated choices than most people our age.
Finally, she nods.
We join the crowd of students, walking side by side until we reach the student center parking lot, where I left my truck. I open the door for Lennon, making sure her backpack is tucked in the footwell before closing the door.
When I climb into the driver’s seat she’s tugging the elastic out of her hair, letting the long strands loose and running her fingers through the knots.
She looks over at me. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I was stressed and upset. Even if you had interfered, I know it would have been from a place of love.”
“If I had interfered, it would have meant I don’t know you at all. You’re the proudest person I know, Lennon. You think I don’t know you want to earn everything you get?”
“You threw our English final senior year,” she reminds me.
“That was different. I didn’t blackmail Mr. Tanner into giving you an A. I just didn’t write the essay. And that was partly because I was upset and distracted, not just because I wanted you to be valedictorian.”
“I turned it down.”
“What?” My hand freezes, right as I’m about to turn on the truck.
“The Fulright Fellowship. I turned it down. And not because I think it was handed to me. Because I didn’t want it. I want to apply to a bunch of papers and try writing in different departments, not have to follow a pre-determined program. And… I want to see where you get drafted before I commit to living somewhere.” She pauses, searching my face. “Are you mad I didn’t talk to you before I decided?”
“Of course not. It was your decision, Len.”
