I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(76)

“He used to wear these red cowboy boots when he was little, kept them right next to his bed. At prep school, the year before he died, we had opposite day for Homecoming. I went as him: dress shirt, glasses, khakis, and a pocket protector. He dressed in my jersey. It swallowed him, but the pride on his face…”

I fan her hair out with my fingers.

“The day he drowned…” The words get caught in my throat as I struggle to keep the emotion in check. “He shouldn’t have been there, not with the crowd I hung out with, but he followed me around, and I couldn’t deny him anything. When he didn’t come up out of the water…” I wanted to die. “I dove in after him. He was a good swimmer, but he hit his head on a rock. I dragged him up to the shore, did CPR, but he…”—was gone—“never came back. I felt as if I should have died next to him.” My breath catches.

“Oh, Dillon. That must have been horrible.”

“My dad…he…he…I don’t know. He couldn’t stand to be around—” I stop, sucking in air. “My dad and I are screwed up.”

Her lips brush my hand. “Grief makes people do crazy things. I hope you work things out with him.”

“I showed up at Waylon with all this buried grief and anger. Why my brother? Why didn’t I watch him better? Did I mess up the CPR? I shoved it down with football and parties.” I hesitate. “Serena, I’ve been with a lot of girls…” I stop. “You’re different. You know that, right?”

She eases up and straddles me, her knees outside my legs. “Thank you,” she says.

I tug her closer until I can see the white glints in her honey-colored eyes. “For what?”

“For today with the safari park. Nana can be…”

“Ridiculous? But cute?”

She smirks. “And for telling me about Myles. A person isn’t completely gone when we talk about them. He’s still with you when you kiss your hands before you take the field. I understand, I see you—”

Overwhelmed, I kiss her, cutting off her words, my tongue finding hers. We start off slow and sweet as my fingers pull her shirt up and off. Her bra is black lace, her skin like satin. My fingers play with the charm around her neck. Seeing it fires off emotions in my chest. “I want to make love to you, Dandelion. Here.”

She stills and her breath hitches as she stares at me. I don’t know how long we gaze at each other. Crickets chirp in the woods. An owl hoots. The sun falls below the horizon, the last glints of the orange and pink lights making the night ethereal and otherworldly. How is it possible that our planet continues to spin with billions of people, yet it feels as if we are alone in this moment?

Something rich and complicated flares to life. Oh, it’s always been there, but now I can barely breath. The air itself sizzles, and my chest hitches. My soul, my heart, the very essence of me… It’s connected to her, a fragile string that’s never been broken, not even by three years.

I said make love. “Are you freaking out?” I’m tense and swallow.

A gust of air comes from her. “This is happening fast.”

“You want to run from us?” Please don’t.

She shuts her eyes, then opens them. “Kiss me.”

I kiss her. Again and again, lingering, drugging kisses, my hand in her hair, hers in mine. We make love in the meadow where we met and it feels like nothing in the world could ever come between us.





25





See you tonight is the text that comes from Dillon as I scurry around the bedroom two weeks later. In a fit of annoyance, I toss the phone on my bed and dart for my closet. Torn between his team’s superstition and me, he dreads the Fall Ball with Ashley, but the night is here, and there’s a knot of anxiety in my gut. I keep reminding myself that this is a commitment he agreed to in May before I even met him. So why am I stomping around my apartment?

My head goes back to last night when he cooked chili for me and Romy and Nana. Later, after we were alone, he wanted to make sure I was okay with the dance. Trying to be mature, I told him I was.

The university catering service asked me to work the formal, and I can’t turn down the extra money. Snatching my black skirt and a white button-up shirt out of my closet, I dress. After getting my hair up in a knot and makeup on my face, I slide my boots onto my feet.

My reflection in the mirror is harried. I shut my eyes and remember the meadow, the tender way he touched me, with reverence, as if every single caress counted. The deeper he sinks into my heart, the more I think about him, the more I need him, the more I…

My eyes fly open. Love him.

My heart drops.

I love his spontaneity, his stark masculinity, the way he understands grief. My hands cling to the sink, deep breaths coming from my chest. My eyes close. He’s dug deep roots in my soul little by little. Like the dandelion, he grew in hard soil, finding the path to my heart.

Romy bounces into my room wearing a black skirt and a white polo. The only positive is I begged Zena to add Romy to the list of servers.

“I’m ready for my first catering job!” Her hair swings around her shoulders. “Mo money, mo money!”

I push aside thoughts of Dillon. “Want me to put your hair up?”

She scrunches her nose. “Can’t I wear it down?”