Beyond the Point(38)

TIMNESMITH66: that’s not exactly how I remember it.

TIMNESMITH66: who else is going?

BBALL4EVA: just us and my friend Hannah.

BBALL4EVA: She’s awesome. You’ll like her.

TIMNESMITH66: the tall girl you’re always with?

BBALL4EVA: possibly. I travel with a lot of tall girls. comes with the territory.

TIMNESMITH66: six weeks, huh?

BBALL4EVA: what else are you going to do on a Tuesday night??? Plus. You know Locke and I will make it a blast.

TIMNESMITH66: all right. I’ll do it.

BBALL4EVA: I’ll e-mail you the details. No backing out.

TIMNESMITH66: why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this?

BBALL4EVA: NONSENSE. I’ve got you. It’s going to be great.

“I’m not going,” Hannah said now, her voice muffled by the pillow.

She had nothing to wear, let alone the confidence to make it through the night without puking. Dani, dressed in a V-neck T-shirt that exposed just the right amount of cleavage, dug through Avery’s trunk, pulling out more slinky dresses and tank tops.

“What about this?” she said, holding up a miniskirt.

“Oh my gosh, not that skirt,” Avery said, pulling it back. “Bad high school memories.”

Dragging herself back to the mirror, Hannah tried another dress and held her hair off her shoulders to see if that helped at all. It was a bright red number that clung to her hips and waist obscenely. “Nope.” She dropped her hair. “Not gonna work. Plus,” she said, pointing at Dani, “why does she get to wear jeans?”

Dani opened her mouth to speak, but Avery held up a hand to stop her.

“Dani doesn’t think dancing with Locke is a date. And she’s barely off her crutches, so let’s give her a break, shall we?” She plunged her head deep into her trunk. “There are very few chances to look like a real girl around here, Hannah, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you walk out of here looking less than perfect.”

Hannah groaned. “I’m so screwed.”

“One can only hope,” Avery laughed.

Standing up, she pulled a cotton dress that tied at the waist from her trunk. Hannah assessed its maroon color, knee-length hem, and perfect cut—and gasped.

“Wow,” she said. “Give me that.”

DANI HAD ARRANGED to meet the boys on the flat stone walkway called the Apron, near General George S. Patton’s statue overlooking the Plain. The sky turned red, the final light of the day dying in a flash of beauty. Locke looked like he always did: shoulders broad, muscles bulging. The gap between his two front teeth conspired to make his hulking figure far less intimidating, Hannah thought. Next to him, Tim stood with his back turned to them, his hands stuffed in the pockets of a camel-colored jacket. He wore a white collared shirt and dark jeans paired with leather loafers. He looked like a Ralph Lauren model—casual and handsome. Locke pointed over Tim’s shoulder, and he turned, his face breaking into a sincere smile. Nearing the boys, Hannah inhaled the spicy scent of Tim’s after-shave and felt her stomach drop. Why does he have to smell so good?

“It’s about time!” Locke said to Dani. He checked his watch. “We’re going to be late.”

“Calm down,” Dani shouted back. Just as they began walking toward Cullum Hall, the streetlights flickered on, and Hannah looked up, grateful for the distraction from Tim’s gaze. Locke and Dani were already several paces ahead of them before Tim cleared his throat and stroked his chin.

“So, how’d she rope you into this?” he said. “Blackmail?”

“Oh yeah,” Hannah laughed. “You should see the dirt she has on me.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to lead. I don’t know the first thing about dancing.”

“Where I come from, leading is the guy’s job.”

“Where are you from? Mayberry?”

“Austin.”

“Close enough.” He smiled.

She wanted to die. He’d just put his hand on her back, guiding her up the steps toward Cullum Hall. In response, all the blood in her body had rushed to that very spot. He dropped his coat on a hook outside the ballroom door.

“What about you? Where are you from?” Hannah asked, even though she already knew the answer. Dani had told her Tim had grown up on a farm in Maryland.

“California,” he said.

“Dani said you were from Maryland.”

“Then why’d you ask?” he said with a grin.

Hannah blushed.

“I was born in California, so I like to claim it,” added Tim. The dimple in his right cheek appeared as he smiled.

“So when did you move to Maryland?” asked Hannah.

Tim raised an eyebrow, as if to do the math. “When I was . . . let’s see . . . ten days old? My parents had to get special permission for me to fly on the plane because I was so little.” A moment passed, and then he explained, “I was adopted.”

At that moment, Hannah suddenly knew exactly why she’d been attracted to Tim in the first place. He had a certain confidence in the way he walked and talked that she wasn’t used to seeing in the South. And yet, since he’d been raised on a farm in Maryland, he had all the qualities that Hannah had grown to respect in a man, thanks to her father’s and grandfather’s examples. Hard work. Intensity. Determination. He was the perfect combination of the familiar and the mysterious, the relatable and the unknown. She wanted to step closer to him, and yet felt an equal desire to step away, for fear that he might sweep her up in a wave she couldn’t control. She tried to imagine what his birth mother must have felt, handing her child over to a stranger. And yet, she was grateful. Because of that brave woman, he was here. Loved by his adoptive parents into the kind of man that would attend West Point, even if he bucked the system every now and then. It all made sense. He made sense.