It Had to Be You

by Lizzy Charles

The faded blue lines on the page of my notebook blur. My chest feels like it’s floating above my head while my legs are cemented to the floor. I’m terrified that if I move an inch, I’ll end up chasing her down to pick up where we left off. My Pop Rock–peppered lips tingle, still shocked at meeting hers. The moment she brushed her lips into mine, I couldn’t let her go if I tried. Instead, I scooped her closer and… Well, I freaked her out.

  The look on her face afterward spoke a thousand words. No girl has ever packed up and left me to go do something better before.

  It should sting. I should be offended that she doesn’t see what a “great opportunity” she just had, and that thought—to the bottom of my soul—disgusts me.

  It’s exactly what I thought last year about myself, an excuse to jump from girl to girl because I was giving them all a gift: me.

  My stomach turns over. I should have let that magazine hit me in the face.

  Edelweiss tasted my ego. No wonder she bolted with her books clutched to her chest like I’d stung her.

  My phone vibrates on the table. Damn it. Dad will have Julie move me out of the dorms by morning if he hears about this from Edel’s father.

  When I flip it over, I’m astonished that his text has nothing to do with Edelweiss. He can make it to the football game next week for senior night! Julie offered to stand next to me when she found out Dad couldn’t make it, but considering I still need to wade through eight more months of Brockmore, it wouldn’t be worth giving up our charade. It’d be too easy for people to attribute all I’ve achieved at Brockmore to simply being the headmistress’s nephew. I don’t want people to doubt what I’ve earned through hard work—every A or all of the pieces I’ve had placed on literary websites and in magazines. Not to mention the bombardment of complaints from some of the football booster parents who probably would assume I’m a starter because Julie forced the coach to put me there.

  Yes. Keeping Julie separate from me at Brockmore is crucial.

  I glance back down at Dad’s text and grin. Having Dad there will be amazing. The first time I introduced my dad to the team during my freshman year they thought I was pulling a prank. No one expects a black athlete to have a white, freckled Irish father, especially not genetically.

  Edelweiss will like him a lot. That is, she’ll like him if she’s still willing to help me out.

  I dial her number, pressing the phone to my ear on my way out of the library. “Edelweiss?”

  “Yeah?” Her voice is weak.

  Yup. I royally messed this up. Again.

  “Where are you?”

  “Outside.” A warmer sound of her voice floats through the air, not just through the phone. She’s near.

  “Edel?” I call out, hanging up the phone.

  She steps out from the far corner of the library, her bag still clutched to her chest.

  As I jog over, I can tell that something’s off. Her face is splotchy, and she looks a little lost. “Why are you still here?”

  Her mascara is smudged below her eye. Oh shit. I made her cry.

  She studies the cracks in the sidewalk. “I needed someplace quiet to speak with my mom. Didn’t want to interrupt Tuti in our room.”

  “Sometimes dorm living gets a little crowded.” I reach out, touching her wrist. “Are you okay?”

  “Yup.” She nods firmly, stepping forward. “What’s up?”

  “My dad is coming to the game next week.”

  “Cool.”

  “You’ll get to meet him.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Hey…” My feet shift as the discomfort between us twirls in this odd, closed-off dance. “Can we be real with each other?”

  Her crystal-blue eyes widen, yet her lips don’t move. It’s neither a no nor a yes, but it’s an opening that I’ve got to take.

  “Okay.” I hold out my hand to her before I even think. Coach says it takes a habit twenty-one days to root and sixty-six days to form. Well, it’s only been eleven days with Edelweiss, yet I can’t help but want to keep her close. The rhythm of our hand-holding has become second nature.

  And I like it. I like everything about her in a way I’ve never liked a girl before.

  Reluctantly, she takes my hand and strolls with me to the large tree in the middle of the quad where we sit. The grass is a bit cold. The light from the library bounces off her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “I messed up in there, and I’m sorry.”

  “You messed up?” She tucks in her lower lip.

  “I took the kiss too far.” I kick at an early yellow leaf that’s already fluttered to the ground.

  “I thought…” She pauses, and those thick lashes sweep downward. A warm hue accentuates her cheeks. “Never mind.”

  “No.” I squeeze her hand. “What we have won’t work if we keep our mouths shut when we need to speak. We won’t convince anyone if we aren’t on common ground.”

  What we have? How can I say that when I don’t even know what this is?

  “I thought you were grossed out because I did it wrong. You have so much experience and I don’t, and I know you weren’t meaning for us to kiss, but I didn’t know what to do with Mason coming. He was going to see us and I didn’t think there was any other way and it’s not like a girl is taught these things—”

  I hold up my hand to end her rant. “Edelweiss.” Even now, my lips still tingle, begging me for one more taste. “I can assure you from the bottom of my soul that you did not kiss me wrong.”

  “Really?”

  “Nope. Is that why you left the library so quick?”

  “I figured you needed your distance after I attacked you like that.” She forces out a cracked laugh. “You looked at me like I was a zombie.”

  “Let’s just say the kiss was more than good.” I nudge her in the side, changing the subject before I spill out that I’m still holding her hand because I like how soft it feels and how it fits so well in my own, not to put on a show to the students still out on the quad. “Anyway, are we still solid?”

  “Yup.”

  The bell in the English tower rings out the ten-minute warning for the campus curfew.

  She glances at the clock on the front of the math building. “We should probably go.”

  “Wait.” The word escapes me before I even know what I want to say. A warmth burns steady in my chest. “Why are you still in this with me? Being in a fake relationship is ridiculous.”

  She releases her hand from mine and climbs to her feet. “You don’t deserve to be pulled out of Brockmore. James, I don’t know who you were before and how you acted, but you’re awesome now. Your dad needs to see how much you’ve changed, and I’ll hang in there as long as it takes you to convince him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Plus, you’re the only person on campus I can be honest with.”

  A rawness gnaws at my insides. This is all wrong. This complex, beautiful girl should not feel like I’m the only person she can be real with. “It’s a side effect of our agreement, Edelweiss. You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide stuff from Tuti, Ainsley, and Charlotte because of me.”

  “It’s worth it if it means you stay. Brockmore wouldn’t be Brockmore without you.” This time she extends her hand, allowing me to keep hold of it while we walk together back into Brockmore Hall. I land a soft kiss on her cheek in front of everyone leaving the lounge and wish her a good night’s sleep.

  A few girls from my year sigh, and my heart plummets. Their reaction should make me puff out my chest and jump for joy. We are dominating this fake relationship, but everything in me feels like I’ve made a huge mistake. Edelweiss deserve better than this.

  …

  Senior night is giant. Families fly in from all over the country to stand next to their sons in the end zone or watch the game with their kids from the bleachers. It’s bigger than homecoming. The stadium is packed, and I’m thankful that we’re playing the easiest team in our division, because the thought of introducing Edelweiss to my
dad after the game makes me want to hurl.

  I’m terrified my dad will take one look at us together and tell me to cut the act. This could very well be my last night at Brockmore.

  The halftime buzzer sounds, and the stadium roars. “Family members of the senior players, please make your way to the end zone.” The announcer’s voice blares through the speakers.

  Parents and grandparents pour out of the stands, but Dad’s puff of red hair isn’t in sight. He told me he’d be a little late and—for a second—I look to Julie. Maybe she knows where he is. Unfortunately, her neck is craned around while she scans the crowd for him too.

  Then, a familiar holler of my name catches in my chest. I turn around to see my dad in full dress uniform limping onto the field from the far west fence near the parking lot. “Son.” He pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late.”

  “Don’t sweat it. You made it right on time.”

  We jog over to the others who’ve already found their space in the end zone. I lead him to my mark at the end of the line. As the captain, I will be the last student featured.

  They begin the videos of each student, showing pictures of us playing football as children and our evolution through senior year. All the moms on the field are beaming, clutching their sons’ hands. When my video plays on the Jumbotron, Dad rests his hand on my shoulder. He gives it a deep squeeze, and when I look back to him when the video is over, there’s a small tear rolling down his cheek.

  There’s nothing in this world that I want more than to make him proud. I tossed off for a few years, but every moment from here on out I will try to be half the man he is.

  Badges pepper his dress blues. His purple heart catches my eye. A shot in the leg during his first deployment, which ended his hopeful soccer career. This moment must mean more to him than I can even fathom.

  When the video ends, the stadium roars. Julie snatches a box of Kleenex. I catch sight of Edelweiss in the crowd, cheering in the T-shirt she made of my jersey number.

  Dad follows my gaze. “Is that Edelweiss?”

  “Yup.”

  “When do I get to meet her? I haven’t seen her since she was in diapers.”

  My chest aches from the constant pounding of my heart. “Right now, if you want.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Dad would hate climbing the bleachers with his leg. He does everything he can to avoid people noticing his war injury. It’s not something he likes to talk about much, and I don’t blame him.

  I wave to Edelweiss and hop over the fence into the stands. My feet pound against the metal steps as I jog up. Ainsley’s wide eyes are fixed on the field, watching our father limp to the sidelines. I pause, leaning down while I pass behind her and whisper, “He’ll love you, Ainsley. Never doubt that.”

  She doesn’t even flinch, so I move on. Doubt she can hear anything with how transfixed she is on him.

  “Great job out there,” Edelweiss says when I reach her.

  “You still have no clue what I’m doing on the field, do you?”

  “You catch the football and run. What else is there to know?” She winks with a smile, and suddenly I feel like I’m climbing the first hill of a massive roller coaster. I sort of adore that she couldn’t care less about the specifics. She glances out at the field. “Is that your dad down there?”

  “Yup. Want to meet him?”

  She’s already climbing past Tuti as she answers. “Of course. Plus my parents would be livid if I didn’t properly introduce myself.”

  I nod, taking her hand, my own hand twitching a bit.

  “You okay?”

  “He’s going to see right through us.”

  “Don’t be nervous.” She squeezes my hand, whispering into my ear. “There’s nothing fake about our friendship.”

  She has no idea how wrong she is. Our friendship is fake if what I want is more.

  Our kiss in the library knocked some sense into me. The lines of our friendship started blurring the moment I saw how she bounced back from Emma’s hair assault, and how much she loved horror films. All week I’ve held back from telling her how wonderful she is. So wonderful that she deserves a guy who doesn’t treat life like a giant game. Someone who will make something of himself.

  We walk together down the bleachers, and I do everything I can to maintain my energetic step. This is becoming dangerously real for me, and I need to end it before I mess up and hurt her.

  I’m well aware that history always repeats itself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Edelweiss

  “Dad, this is Edelweiss.”

  “Colonel Parson, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I extend a firm shake, nailing the diplomatic greeting that Mom and Dad drilled into me as a young child.

  “Please, call me Peter.” With a gentle squeeze, he releases my hand. “You look so much like your mother.”

  “But with my father’s hair. Sort of like how you and James share a smile.”

  “You noticed?” James chuckles, tucking his helmet under his arm. “Most people think I’m adopted.”

  I glance between the two of them, both of their smiles are partially open, almost like they’re in mid-laugh. It’s contagious and identical. “You’re obviously his son.”

  Colonel Parson playfully nudges James. “He gets his good looks from me.”

  The buzzer sounds the end of halftime. James’s brow creases as he studies us.

  “Go play. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll meet you after the game?”

  “How about I take you both out to dinner?” Colonel Parson asks.

  “Awesome.” James gives me a hug.

  “Edelweiss, will you sit with me? I’d love to hear more about your parents, and the headmistress promised to save me a few good seats. She claims they’re the best view in the stadium.”

  “That’d be great. Thank you.” I follow him over to Headmistress Creighton, who awkwardly shakes the colonel’s hand with a weird eye roll like they’re old friends. Man, James must have done some wild stuff if they know each other this well.

  Colonel Parson and I take our seats just off the sidelines. He clears his throat. “Your father and mother are some of the greatest people I’ve had the pleasure to know. It’s been years since I’ve bumped into them. A shame, really. Thank God for technology. You wouldn’t remember me, but we met a few times when you were a baby and again as a preschooler.”

  “Really?” It’s odd that I don’t feel nervous around him or a desperate need to impress. I guess it’s a lot easier to meet a boyfriend’s parent when you’re a placeholder than if you’re the real deal. “Have James and I met before?”

  “No. When I was at work, he was usually with his nanny. But you both lived in Germany at the same time when you were infants.”

  “Weird.”

  “What’s weird is that you two are dating.” He shakes his head. “It never occurred to me that you two would hit it off. He doesn’t strike me as your type, if you’re anything like your folks.”

  A sour taste floods my mouth. He really has no idea how great James is. “James is really smart. He’s been tutoring me in English.”

  “Tutoring?” His brow lifts and I can see the implication in his eyes.

  “He’s been helping me dissect Dostoyevsky in the library.”

  “Yeah, he likes to toy with that stuff.”

  Toy? Understanding Dostoyevsky takes some major brainpower. “Have you ever read Dostoyevsky?”

  His eyes pop wide while the whistle blows. “No. God, I can’t even remember the last time I read a book for fun.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call his novels fun, but they are interesting. Maybe you should read one? James can talk for hours about them.”

  “For hours. Really? Are we talking about the same kid here?”

  “James is really insightful, you must know that. I remember my parents once turning off the TV to tell me he’d gotten published in a magaz
ine.” I force out a chuckle, desperately trying to stand up for James while keeping the conversation light and airy. “They interrupted the series finale of Parenthood to tell me. I was so mad.”

  “Having something published isn’t uncommon for Brockmore students. Now, don’t get me wrong. Obviously, I’m proud of my son if I felt the need to email your parents and brag about him. I just really want him to put those brains to use the rest of the time.”

  “He is. You should see what he’s doing with student council.”

  “Student council? Come on. Now I know we aren’t talking about the same kid.”

  The headmistress leans over to us. “James is one of the senior reps this year. I thought he told you. He’s brought some unique proposals before the council. I’ve been really impressed with his interest and commitment.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I do.” She settles back into her seat. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and my stomach turns over. He hates me.

  Another five minutes pass before he shifts in his spot. “Edelweiss, thank you.”

  “For what, sir?”

  The quarterback launches the ball, and James’s father leaps to his feet the moment James spins out of the defender’s way. He cheers louder than anyone in the stadium when James catches it, sprinting down the sideline and diving into the end zone.

  Touchdown, Bears!

  The colonel grins at me while he takes his seat.

  “Is everything okay, sir?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Thank you for telling me about James. Sounds like he’s really trying to change things.”

  The headmistress coughs loudly next to him. “As I was telling you, Peter…”

  “I hear you, headmistress. Thank you.”

  The Bears win, and while James showers, the colonel has me call my parents so we can all talk on speaker. The giddiness in my mom’s voice is undeniable, and as the Colonel describes my relationship with James, I swear my dad’s voice drops an octave, his irritation clear.

  It’s apparently easy to say you want your daughter to date but a lot harder to stomach.

  After James arrives, he holds open the back door to his father’s SUV while I climb in. On the drive into town, James and his father recount the last half of the game play by play, and James has never seemed so relaxed and at ease as he is with him. At the bar and grill, James inhales his dinner, and when he runs to the restroom, the colonel folds his hands on the table.