“Oh jeez,” he says, and I smile because I can see in his face that the thought of them liking him doesn’t please him.
“How long until the internship finishes?”
“About two weeks.” He looks relieved at the thought, and I completely understand. He’s been doing the internship along with football practices and scrimmages. I know he’s exhausted. I still can’t believe he made time to come hang out with me.
“And then I won’t see you again?” I say out loud, more a statement than a question.
“Wrong. We’ll be going to the same school, remember? I expect to see you more than I do now when my internship is over.” His words make me smile like an idiot.
I wink. “Hmm, we’ll see.”
“Don’t forget about our friendship just because you’ll be back in college.”
“Don’t forget about me just because you’ll be a senior and I’m just a measly junior,” I remind him. He’s at the top of the food chain, being a football player and all. I have to remind myself that this—us—is only supposed to be temporary. We became friends out of convenience over the summer, and the summer is almost gone. Once school starts, I don’t know what’ll happen.
“I wouldn’t dare forget about you, Evans,” he says, and I realize how much those words mean. Not because they’re coming from him, but because other people have forgotten about me, and the reassurance that someone else won’t comforts me. “Back to the original question: what do you do for fun here?” He takes a bite of the cookie he’s been holding, and I watch his reaction, unable to stop myself from zeroing in on the way he licks his lips afterwards. He looks back at me with his baby blue eyes, and I realize he’s waiting for me to answer.
“I watch Friends,” I blurt out.
“Let’s watch it until dinner’s ready,” he says excitedly.
My eyes widen. “Are you a fan?”
“If you repeat that outside of this room, I will deny it.”
I make the scout’s honor sign. “I won’t repeat it.”
“Get to it, Evans!” he urges me.
“You’re bossy. I may have to rethink my promise of keeping your secret obsession.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he jokes.
As I turn on the TV and scroll through my purchase list for Friends, I can’t help but think that this is a dangerous game I’m playing, but one I don’t want to stop.
13
JESSE
“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask Zoe nervously. I don’t want to come off too intense—too needy.
“Nothing much. Same thing I do every day,” she answers from her place on the hospital bed.
“Home, bed, and Friends?” I ask, surprising myself with how well I know her already.
“Nah, I’m going skydiving,” she responds sarcastically, and I smile at her smartass reply.
Her mother chooses that moment to walk into the room, and I can’t believe that regardless of how many times I’ve seen her, even in her own house, I can’t help but be terrified of her.
With a smile on her face, Mrs. Evans greets me. “Hi, Jesse.”
“Hi, Mrs. Evans,” I respond.
“It’s nice to see you,” she says, patting my shoulder.
“It’s nice seeing you too,” I answer, doing my best to swallow my nerves.
“I overheard you asking Zo what she’s doing this weekend,” she says.
“Ah, yes.” Great! She probably thinks I want to ask her daughter on a date or something.
I quickly glance at Zoe to find her cheeks reddening, her eyes fixed on her mother, waiting to see what she’ll say next.
“How’s the internship going?” Zoe blurts out. It’s a question she already knows the answer to, so I assume it’s to distract her mother.
My eyes dart between Zo and her mom. “Umm…it’s going pretty well—ending in a couple weeks.” I can’t wait to get a break from this place.
“I’m sure they’ll miss having you around here,” she finishes, and for a brief moment, I think she’s going to say something else.
I wished she’d said something else.
“I’ll miss everyone too. I’ll come and visit though. And I’ll get to see you at school.”
My pager, which shouldn’t belong in this century, goes off. With a shrug, I say, “Duty calls.”
“I’ll see you around,” she says, and her mother gives her a wide-eyed stare.
“What?” Zoe hisses at her.
“Ask him!” her mother whispers back.
I bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud. “Ask me what?” I ask, ignoring the constant buzzing on my hip.
“About this weekend,” Zoe’s mom replies.
Zoe looks to me and then back at her mom. “It’s not that important,” she tells her in a low, agitated voice.
“Yes, it is,” her mom argues.
“You ladies do know I’m still here, right? I can hear everything you’re saying.”
Zoe and Mrs. Evans turn to me, both of them looking slightly embarrassed.
Placing both hands on her hips, Mrs. Evans says, “Tell him.”
“Yes, tell me!” I insist.
With a resigned breath, Zoe says, “My birthday is this weekend.”
“What? That’s awesome!”
“We’re having a party,” her mother jumps in, unable to contain her excitement. I don’t blame her. A few months ago, I bet she was wondering if she’d see her daughter live to see the next year of her life.
“It’s not really a party,” Zoe hedges.
I bite back a smile. “Will there be a birthday cake?”
“Yeah,” she answers, her eyes bouncing around the room.
“Sounds like a party to me! How come you haven’t invited me?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” she says, shifting her gaze from me to the floor.
“Are you kidding me? I’d love to come.”
“It’s nothing serious—not like a real party or anything. It’ll only be my parents, a few of their friends, and me. Dad will be barbecuing, and we’ll have a cake.”
“You had me at cake, but the barbecue just sweetened the deal. I’ll be there.”
She smiles weakly. “Great. I’ll text you the details,” she responds just as my pager pings again.
“I can’t wait,” I tell her. “But look, I’ve gotta go and see what Fiona needs. I’ll talk to you later?”
I wait for her nod before hauling ass out the door.
“Slow down, Falcon,” Nick complains when I bump into him as I rush into the locker room.
“I got places to be!” I shout, stripping down to hit the showers.
“Oh really, Lover Boy? Have you found yourself a lady we don’t know about?” Zack jokes, and I shake my head. These guys just don’t know when to stop.
I walk over to the showers with Zack and Nick right behind me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease because I’m in a good mood, and if practicing in this heat didn’t ruin it, nothing else will.
“Seriously though, why the rush?” Nick asks.
“I have a birthday party to attend,” I answer and immediately regret it.
I let the water run over my head as I wash away the sweat from today’s practice. “You have a party to go to, and you’re not inviting us?” Zack asks, pretending to be hurt.
I wrap the towel around myself and exit the showers. “Exactly,” I reply. Once again, the duo follows right behind me as I walk into the locker room and start getting dressed.
“Why you gotta be like that, man? We want to party too,” Zack whines.
“You party every day, dude.”
“So?” Nick says like that’s no big deal.
I pull on my shirt. “This is for a hospital patient,” I tell them, hoping it gets them off my case.
“Oh, never mind, then,” Nick says, immediately backing off.
“I’m all good,” Zack responds.
“Really? You guys don’t want to come?” I add, just because
seeing them scram is entertaining.
“Nah, I just remembered I’ve got some homework to catch up on,” Zack says, and while I want to say that’s a bullshit excuse, he probably does have homework. He’s been taking summer classes in addition to football practice and whatever the hell else he does almost every night.
Putting on my pants and shoes, I grab my gym bag and stuff all the gear inside. I tell the guys that I’ll see them later and zoom out of the locker room.
I take hurried steps over to my car because I’m eager to see Zoe, to spend her birthday with her. I reach my car, throw the gym bag into the trunk, and get into the driver’s seat.
The drive to Zoe’s house only takes me a few minutes. Parking my car on the side of the street, I grab the flowers, balloons, and chocolate I’d bought for her birthday gift. I don’t know if she’s the kind of girl that likes flowers, balloons, or chocolate, so I got all three just to be safe. For some reason, not knowing what she likes or dislikes bothers me, and I make a mental note to get to know her better.
With all three gifts in my hand, I make my way to her front door. Unlike earlier, my steps aren’t rushed; instead, I walk slowly, and I know it’s because I’m nervous. This is a special day for her, and I don’t know whether I should be here, whether she wants me here. All I know is that this is where I want to be—I’ve been looking forward to it all week.
ZOE
“I got it,” I yell the moment I hear the doorbell ring. I take the stairs down two at a time, excited about who’s likely waiting on the other side.
“Slow down,” my father yells from the kitchen, and I watch him grab more meat from the fridge before retreating to the back yard, where he’s been grilling for the last two hours. How did he even know I was running? I guess parents do know everything.
I take a moment to catch my breath, then I pry the door open. I’m met by giant balloons and a bouquet of roses. Behind them is a very tall, handsome dark-haired guy.
“Happy birthday, Red,” he says with the biggest smile, and I can’t help but smile back.
“I thought we got rid of ‘Red’,” I counter.
He chuckles. “Happy Birthday, Evans,” he corrects.
“Thank you, Doc.” We stare at each other for a few seconds, both too caught up taking each other in.
“You look…” He stops mid-sentence. “…beautiful.”
I blush. “Thanks. You look great too.”
“Don’t lie to me, Evans. I came here straight from practice.”
“In that case, you stink.”
“I showered!” he argues, and I laugh.
“Fine, you smell okay,” I tease. “Come in,” I say, taking a step back.
He hands the balloons to me and sets down the flowers and what I think is a box of chocolates on the table closest to the door. “I smell freaking great,” he says, and to prove his point, he envelops me in a huge bear hug. I breathe him, confirming what I already know: he smells amazing, like comfort…like home.
“Thanks,” he replies, and that’s when I realize I said all that out loud.
Shit!
“You should really keep your internal monologue… internal.”
“It’s my birthday, so forget I said anything,” I reply, my face red.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to forget you telling me I smell amazing.” He grins, his arms still wrapped tightly around me.
I feel goosebumps spread over my body the longer we stand like this—the longer I’m in his arms. “We’re still hugging, you know?”
“I… I know,” he says, making no effort to let go.
I feel the air around us change—a different feeling, one I can’t describe. I’m afraid to think about it too hard though. “Err, you can let me go now,” I reply, trying to push out of his embrace.
“What? Don’t want to keep inhaling my manly cologne?”
“You’re too much!”
With a chuckle, he releases me, and I take a step backwards. Immediately, I miss the closeness of his body.
“I’m just enough,” he answers, and I shake my head.
I paraphrase the quote from one of my favorite movies and say, “You’re killing me, Falcon.”
His blue eyes focus on mine. “You’re saving me, Evans.”
14
ZOE
It’s a couple of weeks before the end of the summer, and my parents and I go to see Dr. Roman again. We’ve been going to the hospital every few weeks as instructed, but we had one more visit—the most important visit, the one that would confirm I could return to school in the Fall.
Dr. Roman smiles at us as she walks into the room we’ve all been anxiously waiting in.
“How are you, Zoe? Feeling well?” she asks.
I nod, too frightened to speak.
“She’s been just fine,” my mom says, answering for me like I’m a little girl again.
The doctor looks at my parents briefly before fixing her attention on me. “I have some news, Zoe.”
Her words make me take in a deep breath, and my mom reaches out to grasp my hand, squeezing it tightly.
“You’re in complete remission.”
For a moment, nobody says anything, the silence only broken by my mom’s unrestrained sob. I look over at her, seeing the tears glistening on her cheeks. My dad has his arm wrapped around her, his eyes also red. Despite the tears, I can see their happiness, can sense the weight that’s lifted from their shoulders. They’ve been given a second chance…we all have.
“I know you’re excited, Zoe,” Dr. Roman says, “but you need to be aware that a relapse is always a possibility.”
I nod again, the ability to speak not quite returning yet. I swallow. “But I don’t need any more chemotherapy, right?”
“Right,” she replies with a smile. “And you could even think about returning to school if that was something you wanted to do.”
“We can talk about that later,” my dad says, dismissing the idea altogether.
Pressing my lips together, I say to Dr. Roman, “Thank you…for everything.”
She stands up, straightening her white coat. “I’m not the one who did the fighting.” Reaching out, she squeezes my hand comfortingly. “Go home. Enjoy this moment with your parents.” Leaning in, she adds in a conspiratory whisper, “Broach the topic of school when they’re relaxed. Have a decisive plan and stick to your guns, Zo. You got this.”
I wait a week before having the conversation with my parents. I’d run through all the possible ways I could get them to come around to the idea of letting me move out and start living my life—the life I almost lost to cancer. Jesse helped me come up with a plan, and tonight is the night I tell them. Classes are about to start, and I don’t want to miss yet another first day.
I walk downstairs, moving in the direction of the sound of the TV. I step into the room, clearing my throat.
“Hey, sweetie,” my father says.
Deep breath, Zoe. “Can I talk to you guys for a few minutes?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Is everything okay?” my mom asks as Dad mutes the television.
“Yes, everything’s good. I just…” I pause and take a seat on the adjacent couch. I straighten my spine, trying to exude the courage I’ve work so hard to build this past week. “I want to go back to school this semester.”
“This semester?” my mother asks.
I nod. “School is about to start. I don’t want to lose another year.”
“Zoe,” my father interjects. “I think we should be cautious and wait a little longer.”
“I’ve waited long enough,” I fire back.
He stares at me before saying, “Okay. Well, your mom and I will talk about it more. Maybe you can ease into it by taking a couple of classes this semester?”
“I want to live on campus,” I add, even though they’ll disagree. I just hope I can persuade them to change their minds.
Mom sits down next to me. “I don’t think it’s time yet,” she says.
; I know she’s fighting this because she doesn’t want to let me out of her sight. When I was diagnosed, she left her job and made taking care of me her first and only priority.
I take her hand in my own. “I do, Mom. I want to. I’m ready.”
Brushing some hair behind my ear, she says, “We can talk about it later. Let your dad and I discuss it more.”
I look at my dad, who is still sitting on the couch to my right with a puzzled look on his face. “Dad, I really need to go back.”
“Why now? Why not wait a little longer?”
“So much time has gone by already. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Sweetie, the doctor just cleared you. I think it makes sense to—” Mom chimes in from next to me.
Before she can continue though, I say, “Mom, I know it’s hard, but it’s something I really want to do. Please understand where I’m coming from.”
“Your dad and I will talk about it, and then we’ll discuss this again,” she says, effectively tabling the topic. Despite their protests, I know this is progress.
“Want to watch this movie with us?” my dad asks, happy to change the subject.
“Sure,” I tell him.
I know I’ll get them to say yes. I need this. I’m confident I can get Mom on my side—it’s Dad I have to worry about.
We join Dad on the couch, and I watch the movie, but my mind isn’t registering what’s actually happening. Instead, I’m thinking about what it will be like to return to Bragan—to be a student again.
I can’t believe today is the day I move into my dorm room. My parents and I spoke with the admissions office, and they immediately approved my return to school. I’m sure my parents were hoping for a different answer, but it’s time.
My mom lingers in my room, finally asking the question I know she’s been mulling over this whole time. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here… alone?”
“Honey, it’s time,” my dad says, carrying in the last box into the room and shutting the door behind him. Oddly enough, convincing my dad hadn’t been the hardest part—it was my mom. Then again, she did quit her job to care for me, so the thought of not seeing me every day is probably hitting her harder.
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