Take Me On

“Oh. My. God.” A combination of anger and hurt splits open my stomach as my shoulders roll back. “Did you really say that to me?”


“Just listen,” he says in a rush. “Your mom told my mom that you haven’t turned down the offer from the University of Louisville. You must be having second thoughts, so I’m not saying anything you aren’t already thinking.”

My throat tightens and I avoid eye contact, ashamed that I’m close to trashing a dream because of fear.

“Stay home.” He softens his tone. “And you don’t have to worry about being scared. Echo’s staying. Grace and Natalie are staying.” He pauses and glances at the floor. “I’ll be here.”

I suck in my lower lip—half mad, half emotional basket case. The University of Florida has always been my goal, but I’m frightened of leaving home. Scared of leaving everything and everyone I’ve ever known. But I’m also tired of everyone wearing me down with their 1,001 reasons why I shouldn’t go.

When I don’t respond, Stephen continues. “I know that’s why you broke up with me last month. That you don’t think we can handle the whole long-distance thing. So stay.”

No, that’s not why I broke up with him, but it is the reason I gave. Two months ago, Lincoln sent this amazing letter and it shook me to the core. Actually, every letter he sends is amazing, but it finally hit me why Stephen and I could never seem to get it together. It was because I had given my heart to Lincoln.

I didn’t want to hurt Stephen then and I don’t want to hurt him now. Especially since I realize what a fool I’ve been. My eyes shut as I digest what I have possibly thrown away with Stephen. “I don’t know.”

The defeat crushes me in such a way that the couch no longer feels steady enough to carry my weight. Maybe everyone is right. Maybe all my crazy dreams of moving away are stupid and insane. Maybe I just think I’m capable of being more than what I really am: not strong, but a homebody.

All my strength and energy flows out of me and right into Stephen. He jumps off the arm of the couch. “Go to college here, in Louisville, Lila. It’ll be like high school. Chad’s staying. So’s Luke. All of us will be together, going to the same school, and then you and I can start again.”

My head snaps up. But I’m not in love with you. The words catch in my mouth. His green eyes shine and his face completely lights up. What do I honestly know about love? Obviously nothing after what’s happened with Lincoln. “I don’t know.”

Why is that the only phrase I seem capable of saying?

His fingers spread out as he raises his hands. “That’s good enough. For now. Look, I’ve got to get to work, but I’m serious—if you get freaked staying by yourself, call. Mom and Dad won’t care if I stay with you.”

I suck in a breath to try to explain to him that I need to do this on my own, but before I can form the first word Stephen plants a kiss on my cheek and strides out the front door.

I blink a few times, trying to let my mind process the turn of events. “Crap.”

In the span of minutes, Stephen managed to drag me back into high school. Wasn’t this drama supposed to end when I received my diploma?

Three quick raps on the door and a surge of angry adrenaline pumps in my veins. Good. He’s back. Now I can really tell him what I think about him staying the night and implying that I’m not strong. Forget the fact he’s possibly right. No guy should ever call me a coward.

With a particularly hard yank, I throw open the front door and yell, “You really are a jerk, you know?”

All the air rushes out of my lungs in a fast hiss. It’s not Stephen. No. Not at all. This guy has hair the color of midnight. He’s tall, built like no guy I’ve ever dated before—in an oh, hell yeah sort of way—and possesses soft blue eyes that entice me to hold him already. And he’s clutching a bouquet. Roses. Purple ones.

Something nags me from the back of my brain. Then I remember that I’m required to speak. “Can I help you?”

He shifts his footing, shoving one hand into his faded jeans. “It’s me, Lila.”

Me? “Sorry?”

“Lincoln.”

I really should have taken my mother’s advice on the peephole.





Lincoln

I know I should stop gushing about the card you sent for my birthday, but I can’t. See, Stephen forgot about my birthday. It’s cool. Really. He remembered eventually, and bought me roses, but I need to complain. I know I’m going to sound like a snot, but he got me red roses.

Red. Whenever I see red roses I think of my grandma’s funeral, and then I want to cry. I’ve told Stephen that—twice.

I’ve dropped hint after hint that purple are my favorites. Of course, I told him that I loved his present and gushed about it, but what do I need to do? Tattoo it on my forehead? Purple!!!

Or at least not red.

Here’s the reason why I don’t care about Stephen forgetting: you made my birthday special. No one has ever made me a card before. So thanks, Lincoln. Sometimes I think you’re my best friend.

~ Lila