Landon
I know the girls are both going to want showers first, so I get on my computer to check my email. A reminder pops up for my quiz tomorrow, sending a wave of dread through my chest. Today on the beach was not good for Monica and me. The way she looked at me chilled me to the bone. Of course, it didn’t help that Ashley and I were seeing each other for the first time in months, adding to the ice-cold situation.
I try my best to focus on what’s supposed to be one of the easier problems, but I can’t make sense of it. I keep starting over, but my brain just won’t retain the values. I grasp my thighs and let out a grunt of frustration as my phone rings.
I slide it on. “Hey, Dad,” I answer.
“Did you see?” he asks.
I imagine he’s sent me a pic of Logan doing something my stepmother finds adorable like sitting on his potty. He wants me to feel involved with their family unit, so he tries to include me. It’s a noble effort, but it just makes me feel further removed from him.
“See what?” I ask.
“Some Georgia Tech players have been kicked off the team for accepting gifts from boosters.”
“Yeah?” My interest is piqued now.
“Billy Abernathy, James Dryden, and Justin McHale.” He says the last name with the satisfaction of laying down a straight flush.
A surge of adrenaline rushes through my heart, and then comes to a screeching halt. Why am I letting myself get excited about this?
“Yeah,” I say again, but this time less as a question, and more as a statement.
“Son, do you know what this means? A wide receiver position is open at Georgia Tech.”
It occurs to me that this might not be a coincidence. “Dad, please tell me you weren’t the booster who gave the gifts.”
He gives a hefty laugh. “Can’t say I was but if I’d thought about it, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have been.”
I lower my head into my hand and scratch.
“Don’t be mad,” my dad says.
I instantly get pissed because I know what’s next.
“I talked with the coach,” he says.
I switch the phone to my other ear. “Dad.”
“I know, but I was there, so I just—”
“What do you mean you were there?”
“I was visiting your grandma in Atlanta so I just happened to stop by this joint off campus.”
“You mean you stalked a Georgia Tech coach.”
“Stalking is an extreme term.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t know him.”
“We were introduced at a fundraiser a few months back. I told you that.”
“You just happened to be at a fundraiser in Atlanta.”
“Well, you know…”
I start to get anxious about what he’s done. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him I’d heard about Justin and asked if he was in the market for a backup. He’s got a handful already, but from the plays he executed last season, I’m guessing he needs at least one more…for backup if nothing else.”
He hesitates, baiting me, and I’m just curious enough to take it. “Well? What did he say?”
“He said he was mulling it over. Didn’t say yes…but he also didn’t say no. If he wanted me out of his hair he would have shut me down right then and there, don’t you think?”
My dad and I have been round and round about this for a year now. He doesn’t get that my learning disability is real. He thinks I need to work on my focus and quit using it as an excuse.
“Just think about it, okay?” he asks.
“Okay,” I say, but it’s a throw away. I’ve thought about it a million times. Playing Division 1 football has been a dream of mine since I was six. Playing for Georgia Tech would be like topping a chocolate cake with a gallon of ice cream.
“But don’t think too long,” he says. “There’s a thousand guys who would kill for that spot.”
I hang up with my dad as Chloe’s distinct footsteps make their way up the stairs. I even have her gait memorized by now. I close out of the screen I’m in just before she appears at my doorway, looks both ways, and then sneaks in.
She hops over to me and plops down in my lap. “Guess what? My dad and I are having dinner together tonight.”
“That’s great.”
“Is that okay? Did we have any plans?” she asks.
“No. Go. Enjoy some time with your dad.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it is a possibility, I guess.”
I pull her hand to my mouth and kiss it. “I’ll miss you, though.”
“What are you going to do?”
I glance at my computer. “Probably just chill. Maybe I’ll hang with my mom.”
“Cool.” She gives me a peck on the lips, then jumps up out of my lap and heads out the door.
I allow myself a moment to dream about walking on at Georgia Tech. Even practicing in a real Division 1 stadium, running as fast as my feet will take me, a massive dude on my heels, me diving for a catch and rolling into the end zone.
My computer dings with another reminder about my class, bringing me back to reality. The study guide looms on my screen like one of those hallways that keeps getting longer and longer. I’m about two seconds from giving up the idea of college completely. Monica has kept my feet to the fire since she took over my tutoring earlier in the year and joined forces with Mrs. Keeley and Coach Dalton. With her absence from my daily life as my own personal academic cheerleader, I feel myself easing away from the idea of school altogether. I know there’s so much more to college besides math, and I repeat that in my head like a mantra. I’ll love my history classes…all up until I have to memorize dates. I’ll kill the English. I’m looking forward to stuff like sociology and maybe even some physical health classes. But anytime I think of trying to descramble my fucked up brain with college level math, I want to give up on it all…so badly.
I’ve been trying to give Monica space, but after seeing her today, I’ve got to call her—not just to get her to motivate me for school again, but for the sake of our friendship. We’ve got way too many years under our belts for it to end like this. I know she said she needed time, but after seeing the look on her face earlier today, I know she and I need to talk this out.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chloe
My dad and I wait for a table at the bar of the bayside restaurant. Boats are parked at the dock that juts out into the ocean. Seagulls loiter, looking for crumbs while a handful of kids torture them, chasing them and screaming as they flap away.
A summer breeze gives me temporary relief from the July heat and humidity. My dad orders himself a beer and me a Coke. We sit in uncomfortable silence while I try to think of how to open a conversation between us.
He turns toward me. “So, how are you liking it down here?”
“It’s great,” I say. “Who wouldn’t want to spend the summer at the beach?”
“You know your mom and I always talked about moving down here one day.”
“Really?” I ask. Neither of them has ever let on anything like that to me before.
“We were dreaming,” he says. “We didn’t think it was feasible as long as your grandmother was alive. Your mom would never have left her.”
I think about my Grammy who passed away in December. Was that why they ultimately divorced? He wanted to move but my mom was tethered to Cliff Ridge? What if they would have held on just a little while longer? Would that have changed everything? Would they have stayed together and moved us all down here?
“I like Cynthia,” I say. “She’s nice.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
I pick up a pack of artificial sweetener from a container and run it along a crack in the wooden bar. “So, are you happy with her?”
His face open
s up. “Yeah, I am.”
“Good.” And I do mean that. I want him to be happy, even if that happiness doesn’t include mom and me. It’s not like I want him to be unhappy. Maybe when he first left, when I still held out hope he’d come back. But that ship sailed a while ago.
He nudges me with his elbow. “How are you doing with all of this?”
My stomach gives a wave of unease. This question dips its toe into uncertain waters. I could fluff it over with a, “Fine!” or I could actually give a real answer.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not going to say it’s not weird, but since I’ve been watching mom with Brad, I guess I’m sort of getting used to it.”
He frowns, setting his gaze on the television above the bar. Now I’m worried I’ve overstepped, mentioning Brad.
“Sorry, was that weird?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m happy for your mom. I really am. I’ll always care about her. I want her to be happy.”
“Me, too,” I look down at the pack of sweetener in my hand, my chest warming up. “I want you to be happy, too.”
He gives a huff and a smile. “Thanks, sweetie. You seem to be getting along with Landon.”
I pull the straw into my mouth, my chest starting to sizzle. “Mmm hmm.”
“He told you he’s wrestling for North Florida State, right?”
“Yeah. Sounds cool.” The idea of him at school down here and me back in Cliff Ridge doesn’t exactly make me want to do cartwheels, but I am happy for him, if that’s what he wants.
“I saw him wrestle earlier this year,” my dad says. “He’s fantastic, especially for his size. I’ll take you to one of his matches this fall if you come for fall break. I’ve already checked, they are scheduled for one that Friday of your break.”
You could blow me over with a single breath. My dad checked my fall break schedule? He wants me to come back? And he’s made a plan for us?
“Okay,” I say.
“I thought we’d take a look around the campus. Not that I expect you to go there. I know you’re leaning toward the art school in Nashville, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt for you to see what a big college campus was like. I know you’ve never been to one.” He looks down at his beer and runs his thumb along a drop of condensation. “I’m regretful I never took you to a UT game, us living so close to Knoxville for all those years. I always planned to, but I just never did it. I guess I always thought there would be more time.” He looks thoughtfully at his bottle.
We sit in silence as I work up the courage to say, “There’s still time.”
He meets my gaze, his features morphing into a smile. “I guess there is, isn’t there.”
I want to tell him I miss having him home, even though we weren’t close. I want to tell him I still need him—that I needed him back in May that night on the pontoon boat, even though I know I wouldn’t have called on him for help. I wouldn’t have opened up to him about how scared I was or how I wanted him to barricade the door and keep Trevor from hurting me again. I wouldn’t have let him hold me and tell me it was okay and go for ice cream sundaes or something idiotic like that. But I would have liked for him to have been there asleep in his bed one door away that night when I got home and I was so paralyzed with fear and humiliation thinking the dark night was going to swallow me whole. I just wanted him to be there.
The buzzer for our table goes off, waking me up.
“Cool, I’m hungry,” he says, and with that, the idea of marking the most crucial task off my list dissolves into the warm ocean air.
We head to the hostess stand. The waitress weaves us through the restaurant, and we take a seat overlooking the bay. The whole back wall of the restaurant is made up of windows, which are opened, allowing the ocean breeze to waft in.
I busy myself with my menu while my dad types into his phone. I pull mine out of the side pocket of my purse in hopes of finding a text from Landon, but I’m left with my screen saver—a selfie of Jenna and me on the beach.
We sit in silence with our menus for a while. He closes his menu and scratches his forehead. “So are you doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, not sure exactly what he’s asking. Seems like we just covered this.
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” His face is strained, like he’s begging for an answer in the negative.
Oh, crap. He wants to talk about what happened with Trevor. No way. “I’m fine, Dad.”
He puts his elbows on the table. “Look, sweetie, I know I’m not the best at this, but you can talk to me if…”
He looks over my shoulder and stands. Cynthia appears at our table, and they kiss hello.
“I’m sorry I’m running late. Did you order yet?” she asks.
My heart sinks. I can’t believe she’s here. Actually, I can. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle one single night of real conversation with me. I’m starting to wonder if the right one of us is checking off tasks on that list.
“No, just sat down a minute ago,” my dad says.
Cynthia sits and checks her phone, types into it. She tosses it into her purse and pulls open her menu.
My dad meets my gaze, a hint of an apology in his eyes. Possibly being with me wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and he regrets inviting Cynthia. But I guess I’ll never know for sure.
I slide my hand to the back of my neck. “I thought you were hanging out with Landon tonight.”
“No. He’s with Monica.” She looks up at the ceiling. “I love those two together. Her mom and I have been secretly plotting it for years.”
My breathing stops for a second. “I’m sorry. Did you say he was with Monica?”
She flips to the back of the menu. “Our families have been friends since Landon was three. We would meet them here every year when Landon was little. I can’t believe it took those two this long to connect romantically.”
I nod as if this is all so normal and wonderful. “That’s great!” I say with far too much enthusiasm.
Cynthia starts droning on about the choices on the menu, and I grit my teeth as my brain sifts through the possible options for an explanation. The only one that makes any sort of sense is that Cynthia has lost her mind and needs to be committed. That or Landon is the world’s most incredible liar. Seriously, if he’s screwing her I will never ever be able to believe another word out of any male’s mouth as long as I live.
I flip the page on my menu, resting my forehead against the tips of my fingers.
“Sweetie, everything okay?” my dad asks.
I nod with a plastered on smile as my stomach sours, and I pray for this to be one huge fucking joke.
Landon
“Landon, come in.” Monica’s dad holds the door open for me.
“Monica’s not expecting me. Is she home?”
“Sure. She’s in her room. We’re waiting on her brother to get home so we can go eat. You want to come with us?”
“No, thanks.”
“Monica!” he yells. “Get decent. Landon’s coming in.” He turns to me. “Sure I can’t change your mind about dinner? We’re headed to Café 30A.”
“Next time,” I say.
“All right. Tell your mother hello.”
He pads back through the kitchen toward the garage.
Monica’s door is ajar. I knock lightly. “Did you get decent for me?” I ask.
She opens the door, her chin lowered, eyes narrowed. “It’s not like you’d care if I wasn’t.”
I walk into her purple and gray room, which smells like the perfume she wears. I sniff and meet her gaze.
She glares me down. “I’d just sprayed that before you got here. It wasn’t for you.”
I rest against her dresser. “I’m sorry,” I say for good measure.
She sits in her desk chair and spins toward me. “What are you sorry
about, exactly? That you’re not in love with me? Or is it the fact that you’re still trying to guilt me into being your tutor?”
I probably deserve that. I’m sure I opened the door for this somehow…definitely the night at J.J.’s party I was so pissed at the fact that Chloe was out with Hunter. I drop the tension in my shoulders. “I’m sorry for all of it. I didn’t know…”
She creases her brow. “That I’m in love with you?” She gives a humorless chuckle. “What did you need, a neon sign? I’ve been throwing myself at you ever since you broke it off with Ashley.”
I shake my head. “I’m not the smartest cookie in the jar. You of all people know that.”
She points at me. “Screw you. You’re not using your learning disability to get out of this one, asshole.”
I nod in concession.
She drops her posture and sets her feet up on the edge of her chair, holding her ankles. Without her feet on the floor for stability the chair takes a slow 360-degree spin. “The worst part about all this is that you’ve done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. You’ve never led me on…outside of the other night, of course. But all these years, you never made one single move on me.” She stops the chair and focuses on me.
“Well, there was that one time.” I give her a smile.
She huffs. “Did you know that was my first kiss?”
“It was mine, too.”
She frowns, but there’s a hint of a smile there. “Really?”
“If that was you,” I say. “The closet was pitch black dark. I don’t know, now that I think about it.” I tap my chin and then shrug. “It was seven minutes with someone.”
She grins, and then throws her head back. “Don’t make me laugh. I want to hate you right now.”
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I love you like a—”
She stands up out of the chair. “Oh, my god. If you call me your sister right now I’m going to rip your balls off.”
I shut up and consider her for a minute. “How long have you been…you know…?”
“In love with you?” She tosses up a hand and paces. “I don’t know…since I was three?”
The Summer Before Forever Page 20