“So, now you’re a gentleman?”

“Only for some girls.” I wink at her, but she rolls her eyes.

“5632...Down a few more houses and on your left.”

I speed up and pull right in front of her mailbox.

“Thanks for the ride.” With her cheeks an even deeper shade of red, she practically jumps out of the car and hastily grabs her bag.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “I need your phone number...For tutoring purposes of course.”

I give her my phone and she stares at it before returning it to me, then she rushes away as if she can’t get away from me fast enough. I scroll down my contacts, looking for her name in my list of M’s but I don’t find it.

I slowly scroll through my entire list, looking for what she might’ve saved it under, and then I see it under the F’s: For Tutoring Purposes of Course.

Smiling, I send her a quick text that I know will set the tone for the start of our relationship:

This is Dean. Here’s my number, you can save it under “For ANY Purposes Of Course...”

Chapter 34

DEAN

Ten years ago...

Small Town, USA

2004

Within weeks of having tutoring sessions with Mia, I’m convinced that pursuing her may be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Not because I don’t think it won’t work out, but because me and this girl have way more in common than I initially thought.

We both have a deep desire to get the hell out of Small Town (She wants to go to Western Peak and I want to go to Harvard), we both have a high affinity for literature (She actually loves Macbeth as much as me) and we both have fucked up parents. Although she’s told me that she and her mom don’t get along, I haven’t offered much about my dad yet. Even if I do eventually tell her that we don’t get along, that he’s a liar and a manipulator, I doubt I’ll ever tell her about the drunken abuse that comes from his fists way too often.

I’ll play them off like typical injuries of the field if she ever asks, but I’ve hidden that fact for so long from everyone, that I’ll do my best not to give her the opportunity to; I just want to be around someone who sees past the fake “Dean Collins” façade, someone who makes me feel normal for the rest of the year, and Mia completes my normal.

I’m not sure if she’s figured out that my need for her tutoring is a ruse, but if she’s onto me, she hasn’t let it show. She’s actually become less difficult and if I’m not mistaken, she looks forward to our time together as much as I do...

***

Within months of having tutoring sessions with Mia, we no longer call them “tutoring sessions”. She’s finally let her guard down completely and we’re dating and it’s beyond serious. At least, to me.

She attends all of my games without me having to ask, she talks to me at all hours of the night—about the things I don’t share with anyone else, and she becomes the one and only person I can actually trust.

Through late night kisses, early morning rides to school, and secret swims at the country club, I fall in love with this girl. I become the first guy she’s ever made love to, and she becomes my first love in life.

When we’re together, I don’t see anyone else. I don’t think about anything else. She’s it for me.

I fall, hard. Harder with each day that passes, and I contemplate rethinking my future plans in regard with my recent acceptance into Harvard. I want to join her at Western Peak.

Well, until she starts to show me that she’s just like everyone else...

Chapter 35

DEAN

Sixteen weeks before prom.

At the start of the second semester, the playoff season for football is in full-swing, and I’m halfway hoping that we get eliminated in the first round so I don’t have to deal with half of my dad’s shit for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, Mia can’t come to the first playoff game; she’s busy with last minute portfolio work for Western Peak which I more than understand. She’s texted me good luck before the game several times, and she’s promised that I can come over later to tell her about it.

Before the team takes the field, I step back into the restroom and wrap another layer of meshed bandage around my ribs. Last night, my dad pushed me into the garage door after coming home late from hanging out with Mia.

I was too tired to fight back, and he was too drunk to stop hitting me.

Wincing, I count to ten and vow to ignore it for the rest of the game. To smile at his side whenever the recruiters come to the locker room and ask for the two of us to stand side by side as they ask me their usual questions.

As the coaches begin to make their last minute motivational speeches, I notice my phone blinking through my bag. Unzipping the bag, I stare at the phone and try to rationalize the text message.

MIA: Just wishing you good luck one last time for tonight’s game! :-) I just finished my second piece for Western Peak and will finish the other two next week. I’m going to get some ice and heating pads and I’ll have them ready for you when you get here later. I love you... :-)

I don’t doubt that her wishing me luck is genuine, and her endless offers of taking care of me are always heartfelt, but I’m wondering why she wouldn’t just come to the game if she was free.

Why she uses the same excuse for the rest of them, and is an entire hour late for the championship game.

Despite the fact that she kisses me at the fifty-yard line when our team wins, the kiss feels bittersweet.

Ten weeks before prom.

I’m going to miss school today, and I’m going to miss her birthday.

I can’t show up looking like this.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I trace my fingers along the gash on the side of my face. The result of my father finding out that I’m not playing football in college. That I’ll be attending school for academics and have plenty of real scholarship offers on the table that come with no risks of broken bones or heightened expectations.

All of a sudden the door to my bedroom opens, and the asshole himself appears.

As soon as his eyes meet mine, he staggers backward, as if he doesn’t remember doing this shit hours ago.

“Son, I’m—”

“You’re not. You never are. Just stop.”

He nods slowly and steps back. “I called this doctor I know from the country club...Told him you got into a brawl and um...” He turns away from me, unable to face his own damage. “He’ll be over in an hour to patch you up. He says he’ll even write you a pass for another week off from school.”

“Yay,” I say dryly. “Another missed week for child abuse.”

“If it’s fucking child abuse,” he says, quickly snapping. “Why haven’t you turned me in? Huh? Why haven’t you fucking turned me in? It’s because you hurt me back sometimes, too. It’s because you’ve broken some of my bones here or there, too.”

“I haven’t turned you in because I pity you,” I say honestly. “And because you have no one else who’d bail you out.”

His face goes white and he looks as if someone just slapped him across the face. The beer bottle in his hand drops into my trashcan, but as he leaves my room, I know he’s heading downstairs to grab another.

Looking at my mangled reflection once more, I shake my head in disbelief but I immediately text Mia.

DEAN: Happy Birthday, Mia. Did you get my flowers this morning?

MIA: I did :-) Thank you.  Are we still going out tonight?

DEAN: No, I’m sorry. I can’t come.

MIA: Why not?

DEAN: I just can’t come. I want you to call and tell me all about it later though.

MIA: Dean...You’re the only person (outside of Autumn) that I actually want to see tonight...why can’t you come?