“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He leads me out to his car and opens the door. “Get in.”

“After you tell me where we’re going.”

“Someplace I think you’ll like.”

“Does this someplace have a name? An address? I need to make sure someone knows where I am since I’m leaving.”

“I’ll know where you are.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how all kidnappers think. That’s not the point.”

Avoiding my question, he scoops me up and places me into the car himself, playfully clicking the child safety lock before shutting my door.

He gets behind the wheel and quickly speeds away, veering his car onto the highway that leads into another county.

“Can I ask you something, Dean?” I ask.

“Anything.”

“Why are you still paying me to tutor you? Now that we’re supposedly dating?”

“We are dating.” He looks over at me. “But regarding the tutoring payments, would you like me to stop?”

“You can.” I shrug. “I don’t feel like I have to be paid to put up with you now.”

He laughs. “Okay. I still need the tutoring though. Would you like to be paid in other ways, then?”

“No.” I roll my eyes. “I need to ask you something else, though.”

“I’m listening.”

“Why exactly do you need all A’s? You have yet to tell me about that.”

“A guy can’t just want to get good grades for his upcoming college prospects?”

“Not when every college is clamoring for said guy to play for them, and would happily accept him even if he had all F’s.”

He speeds past a few exit ramps before speaking again. “Said guy hates playing football.”

“What?” I look over at him in complete shock. “How is that even possible? You’re so good at it, you make it look so easy.”

He zones out again, not speaking until he pulls off on an exit. “Just because I’m naturally good at something doesn’t mean I actually enjoy it...It’s just too late to get away with backing out of it.”

“So, all those high profile offers and media coverage mean nothing to you?”

“Not a goddamn thing,” he says. “Being an athlete isn’t a guarantee. Once you get hurt or lose, people forget about you. I want to do something that matters, something that helps other people. I don’t want to be remembered as some small town sports hero, some record that’s in the yearbooks. Besides, I’m tired of people assuming that football is the only thing I fucking care about.”

I sit still, completely stunned. “So what do you want? And why don’t you just tell everyone the truth?”

“In this town?” He shakes his head. “Where football is everything? I don’t think so. Only a few more games left in the season anyway. I can make it through that.”

I’m not sure what to say next. I would’ve never guessed that he didn’t enjoy playing the sport everyone loved him for and I would’ve never guessed the guy who proudly showed off all his football trophies on the local news last year, wasn’t actually happy about any of them.

“I need you to keep this between us,” he says. “Don’t tell anyone else. Can you do that for me?

“Of course.”

We ride the rest of the way in silence and then he pulls into the parking lot of Carson, a small liberal arts college. He drives towards the Arts Campus, parking in front of a massive oak tree.

Helping me out of the car, he pulls me against his side and whispers, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being the first person I could tell the truth to.” He plants a light kiss against my forehead before opening the door to the building.

“Is this an art show?” I ask, smiling as we walk inside. “Is that what’s happening?”

“No.” He leads me toward the school’s auditorium, where my eyes catch pictures of today’s main event. “There’s a showing of Macbeth. I figured I’d bring someone with me who’d actually enjoy.”

I have no words, and I know he can see how hard I’m blushing right now.

He hands our tickets to an usher and she points us in the direction of our seats.

As we sit down, his arm goes around my shoulder and he leaves very little space between us.

“Can I tell you something personal of my own, Dean?” I say as the lights dim.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I’ve hated you since I met you freshman year.”

“I’m aware.” He laughs softly. “That’s what you call ‘something personal’ though? I already knew that. And, you clearly don’t hate me now, so...Isn’t that a moot point?”

“I was trying to say that now...I think I really like you.” I can see hints of his smile in the darkness. “And I like this version of you far better than the version I thought I knew before.”

“Once again,” he whispers, “I was completely aware of that point, too, but...Thank you for finally admitting it...” His lips find mine and he kisses me deeply, then he pulls me even closer and wraps his hands around my waist.

We miss most of the first act because his lips take quite a while to leave mine...

Chapter 5

MIA

It’s official. I’ve lost my mind.

I’m working on a piece in “art club” and Dean is sitting across from me, playfully arguing with me about the conversation we had on the phone last night. But, instead of kicking him out or telling him to go away, I’m enjoying every single second of this.

I’m enjoying every single day of this.

I can discuss Western Peak College with him (He dropped my application off at the post office because I was too chicken-shit to mail it myself), I can discuss literature (I’m now convinced he knows more about Shakespeare that I do), and I can be myself.

With the exception of a few Saturdays here or there with Autumn and Jacob, Dean is who I find myself spending most of my time with. I go to all of the pep rallies now, sit at the fifty yard line for all of his games, and I soak up every single second that we spend together during car rides to and from school.

I’m trying my hardest to let myself accept that this is a good thing, that this could possibly turn into something more, but there’s a small, tiny voice in the back of my head that keeps warning me: “Don’t get too invested...This won’t last. He won’t last...”

Chapter 6

MIA

Winter Break

There are a lot of ways that I pictured myself kicking off the first few days of winter break, and I’m pretty sure that shopping for prom dresses wasn’t one of them. As a matter of fact, shopping was nowhere in my top twenty.

Nonetheless, I’m currently serving out another ‘BFF Trump Card’ and tagging along with Autumn as she searches for the ultimate gown. We’ve been at the mall for over five hours so far and she’s tried on at least two dresses in every single store.

“How does this one look?” She comes out of the dressing room, wearing a sparkling pink, backless gown.

“Didn’t you just try that exact same dress on in a different color?”

“Yeah, so?” She eyes herself in the mirror. “There’s a huge difference between black and pink, Mia. One is light and the other is dark. Plus, they’re two different colors.”

“Wow, insightful. How exactly did we become friends?”

She laughs. “Do you like it or not?”

“It’s okay. I liked the blue one you tried four stores ago.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” She shrugs. “Okay, well, let’s go to a few more stores to make sure that one is the one.”

I nod in agreement. The second we get out of here I’m going to do one of the things that was on my top twenty list.

Instead of returning to the dressing room, Autumn steps in front of me and crosses her arms. “Hold on a second. Please tell me you plan on going to prom.”

“I actually wasn’t planning on it.” I admit.

“Okay, now I need to ask: How exactly did we become friends?” She laughs. “Why wouldn’t you go? At least for me?”