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He blushes, his cheeks immediately five shades redder. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of hearing you say that.”
The word feels foreign; it doesn’t belong on my tongue. Butterflies flutter in my stomach each time it’s spoken. But I wonder how good it would feel to hear him call mehis. “So then, what am I?”
His mouth twists to the side, trying to subdue his contagious smile. “You’re my girlfriend.” He walks forward and leans down to kiss the top of my forehead. “My slightly crazy girlfriend.”
“Hey,” I say, shoving the shoe box into him.
He catches it, blocking any real damage. “It’s not a bad thing. You had the balls to yell at my mom just now.” He cringes. “She’s probably going to hold that over you for the rest of the foreseeable future. No pressure.”
I groan, turning back around to trudge through the yard. “Ugh, I still can’t believe it.”
He falls into step with me.
“My mom told her about the college I got accepted to in New York . . .”
“Wait, what?”
I stop, closing my eyes to hide from his disappointment. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know how.”
Here comes the part where he either hates me or begs me not to go, right?
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hug. I stiffen in shock and look up at him.“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad? That’s amazing. I love that you’re putting yourself out there.”
“Really?”
He smiles big. “Of course.”
“What about the distance?”
He laughs, furrowing his eyebrows. “I figured you of all people would’ve known that's why they invented airplanes.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He tucks my bangs behind my ear, grazing my cheek with his thumb. “The distance might be hard, but I’m sure you have a good reason for wanting to go there.”
I do. Well, at least I thought I did. I wanted to be as far from here as possible, but now the voice in my head is getting louder. It’s telling me that maybe running away isn’t what I really want. Maybe that won’t solve all my problems.
I smile at him, appreciating his support.
Rain starts to trickle down.
He takes my hand. “Let’s go inside.”
I nod, walking with him to my house.
I open the door and kick off my shoes. “Mom, I’m home!”
Caleb steps in, closing the door. “Hello, Mrs. Jacobs.”
Mom pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Hi,” she says, overly chipper. She’s wearing a bright yellow skirt that almost blinds me and pink framed glasses.
I glance around. Dad is nowhere to be seen.
She gasps. “Is that what I think it is?” She rushes through the living room faster than the speed of light and looks at the label of my bag. “What’s this?”
