The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #4)(61)

“I do, Anabelle, but it’s complicated.” He says it kindly, almost consoling. “I’m applying to grad schools all across the country, but none here. Chances are, I won’t be back after the end of the semester.”

I did not know that.

I mean, I knew he was applying to graduate programs, but we’ve never discussed where. Not once did he tell me he was leaving at the end of this semester.

Which is in a matter of weeks.

“Right. I get that, I was just asking.” I fake a laugh. “Relax.”

I release his hand, rolling away from him, toward the wall, distancing myself so we’re no longer touching. Stare at the beige paint and blank space, fighting back tears.

Elliot runs his hand up my bare spine; I want to shrug it off and tell him not to touch me, but I don’t want him to see me pout. Or worse…cry.

“Anabelle…” The rawness in his voice is so thick, I ache for him, too, even though he’s the one hurting me. “Anabelle, I’m trying to make something of my life. I didn’t have it easy growing up—my parents weren’t financially successful until I was older and wanted to make sure I had a strong work ethic. I’m not here on a scholarship, and they’re only paying for a portion of my schooling.”

I didn’t know that either. “Where have you applied?”

“Michigan. Texas,” he continues in a low, soothing voice. “LSU, and a few other smaller places.”

Wow.

Just…wow.

My eyes sting, blinking hard, and I’m grateful he can’t see my face. The last thing I want is for him to feel guilty. He’s not my boyfriend.

He’s my roommate and he’s moving and I’d be wise to remember it. Just because Elliot is the sweetest, most thoughtful guy I know doesn’t mean we were meant to be.

“When will you know where you’re accepted?” I try not to sniffle.

“Soon.”

“Oh.” I dip my head into his soft pillow, letting the cotton soak up the tears that have begun to fall, doing my best to keep them out of my voice. “Where do you want to end up?”

“I don’t know. I’m from Iowa, but I’d rather not stay in the area. There’s nothing for me here.”

A hard lump forms in my throat. “I see.”

“Do you?”

The room is silent, and I stopped breathing minutes ago.

“Anabelle,” he whispers gently. I wish he’d stop saying my name. “We’ve only had one semester together and we’ve never been on a single date—you know it makes no sense for me to stay.”

We never went on any dates because he never asked.

“Do you care for me at all?” It’s desperate and needy but I don’t care. I only care how I feel in this moment, and the words I crave to hear, memories and words I can latch on to, to replay in my mind when he’s gone.

He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around my middle, chin resting on my shoulder, burying his nose.

“If I were to stay behind for anyone, it would be you, but I can’t give up my education or career for what-ifs.”

I go quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m not gone yet.” He’s quiet, too, and I hear him swallow a lump in his throat. “Do you still want me to come with you to your dad’s wrestling match tomorrow?”

“Of course I do,” I barely manage. “If you’re not busy.”

“Are you still bringing that sign for Gunderson?”

“Yes.”

“Then of course I’m coming—I wouldn’t miss something like that. I want a front row seat.”

“Good, because I don’t want to go alone.”

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be right there with you.”

For now.

He doesn’t say it, but we both know that’s what he means.

Because he didn’t apply to any grad schools in Iowa.





Elliot




“You’re sure that’s what you want the sign to say?”

“I’m sure. Best to leave things vague, don’t you think?”

“Not really, but this is your thing, not mine.”

“You put the idea into my head in the first place, remember? ‘Get revenge,’ he said. ‘It’ll make you feel better,’ he said. Well, I’m not catty, and the book on revenge said acting on it will make me look psycho. Therefore, this sign is as good as it gets.”

Anabelle is carrying a piece of neon pink poster board, on which she painstakingly stenciled the words: HEY REX! WILL YOU STILL WANT TO “DATE” ME AFTER MY DAD FINDS OUT ABOUT YOUR BET?

“I have no objection to walking in with a sign, but you don’t think it’s a little…wordy? And sparkly?”

“The words all fit, so I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“It’s wordy and it’s sparkly.”

“That’s the point.”

“I don’t get it.”

She huffs a sigh. “My dad is going to see it, get mad, storm over, and then confront Rex about it. It’s genius.”

“Because you want to tell your dad and teach Rex a lesson about publically embarrassing someone?”