Today Tonight Tomorrow(71)
It was a rush unlike anything I’ve experienced, getting to read my words in front of people. It might have been even better than hearing Delilah read. She listened to me, a complete nobody hoping to one day become a somebody.
“And Delilah’s following me on Twitter now,” I say, in part to distract myself from how badly I want to hug him again. “She flagged me down before I left, and she just took out her phone and asked for my handle, and oh my God, what am I supposed to tweet? She’s going to see everything. Maybe I should delete my account.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Is this what I was like when I met your parents?”
“No. You were worse.” I grab his arm to look at his watch. “What time is it?”
I have a phone I am perfectly capable of removing from my pocket, but there’s something adorable about the anachronistic way Neil checks his watch.
“Just past eleven,” he says. “We got the next safe zone message while you were up there.”
We read it together.
SENIOR WOLF PACK, LISTEN UP
HOW’RE YOU FEELING? HAD ENOUGH?
IT’S TIME FOR US TO GOLF WITH YOU
SEE YOU AT SAFE ZONE NUMBER TWO
The message links to a mini-golf course that isn’t too far away and asks us to meet there at 11:30.
“I need to sit down first,” I say, still shaky with adrenaline.
Since we have some extra time, we make our way over to a bench in the adjacent park. The cold seems to hit me all at once.
“Do you want your hoodie back?” I ask.
“You keep it.” He shifts until his hip is a couple inches from mine. I could fit two paperbacks in the space between his jeans and my dress. “It’s only fair, given that coffee stain.”
I’m not sure even a dry cleaner could save my dress after all the suffering it’s been through today, but I don’t know if I could throw it out. It’ll be a trophy from this night, a reminder of all the things I did but thought I couldn’t.
“Thank you so much,” I tell him. “For—for helping me realize I could do it.”
Ever so slightly, I scoot closer to him on the bench. I tell myself it’s because of the cold.
I am a big fucking liar.
In the moonlight, his hair looks bronze, as though he’s the bust I teased him about earlier today. I can’t quite believe that was only hours ago.
“I… don’t know if you realize how much you’ve helped me.” He says it to the frayed knees of his jeans instead of to me. “All of these years. I couldn’t afford not to step up my game. It wasn’t just that you kept me on my toes or made me better. Competing with you, you in general… You helped me stay focused. Helped keep me from letting everything with my dad get too overwhelming. I just… I could have so easily drowned in that. And you did it without even trying.”
It breaks my heart all over again.
“Neil,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“You’re welcome?” he suggests, and I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. There’s barely any space between us now, and when he tilts his head to look at me, his eyes pull me into something thrilling, something intense. I don’t know how I missed it before.
“You’re welcome. And thank you. Again,” I say, then charge forward with the secret I’ve been keeping since his house. “So I’ve been thinking. If we win, you should keep the money.”
“Rowan—”
I knew he’d protest, so I cut him off immediately. “And you should one hundred percent not use it for your dad. He did something horrible not just to that kid, but to your whole family. To you.” The words tumble out smoothly now. “You should use it for yourself. For some nice things. Change your last name, and maybe you could study abroad, or you could get a suit at… wherever they sell nice suits.”
He’s quiet for a few moments. I’d be positive I said completely the wrong thing if he weren’t still nearly touching me, a whisper of space between his hip and mine.
“Now I don’t know what to say,” he says, and forces a laugh. “Which, as you know, is unusual for me. I don’t know if I could accept all of it, but thank you. That… sounds really wonderful.” He heaves a sigh, and then speaks again. “I’m scared,” he says, and the words are so soft. I could tuck myself in with a blanket made of I’m scared. “I’ve never said that to anyone before, but I’m really fucking scared of what happens when I leave. I want to leave so badly, and yet… I get worried that I’m not as independent as I think I am. I’ll get to school and I won’t know how to work the laundry machine, even though I’ve been doing my own laundry for years. Or I won’t know how to get around the city, and I’ll get lost. My mom seems happy with Christopher, but I’m worried she’ll overwork herself. I’m worried my sister won’t be able to outrun it all. Or that wherever I am, I won’t be able to get away from my father.
“Sometimes I worry I’ll turn out like him. I wonder if that kind of thing is genetic. If I’m doomed to fuck up as much as he did, if there’s this violent streak inside me.”
“That’s fucking terrifying,” I say, tapping his shoe with mine, letting him know he’s wrong, that he’s not doomed. “And you are nothing like that.”