round the corner. “I’m not going to college and I don’t have the pros knocking on my door.
Winning state this year, that’s my dream, and I need you in order to complete it. Promise me that you won’t let anything get in the way of that.”
Since I was seven years old I’ve glanced to my right and seen Chris backing me up between third and second. He saved plays I screwed up because of my pitch. My insides twist with the startling revelation—regardless HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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of the path I choose, come graduation,
Chris isn’t going to be the guy on my right anymore. “You guys can take Eastwick without me and you know it. Northside is the team with the hitters. In the spring, we’re going to state.
The only game I’m missing is Saturday and I wouldn’t walk away if I didn’t believe that you guys have it covered.”
Chris studies me and I silently urge him to be okay with this. He’s my best friend and I need us to be okay. He offers me his hand and I exhale.
“Swear it, dawg.”
I clasp it. “Sworn.”
An easy grin spreads across his face. “Pick something out and let’s get out of here.”
I try one more time. “Tell me what you get.”
Chris places his hands on his hips. “I’ve never bought condoms before. Lacy wants to wait until we graduate.”
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Beth
IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT and I inhale deeply before I knock. I have three days left until I leave. Ryan deserves better than me, but tonight I can pretend I’m good enough. The door opens and my heart starts, stops, and skips over itself when Ryan flashes that glorious smile with the right mixture of warmth and dimples.
“Hi,” he says. His voice alone creates
pleasing goose bumps on my arms.
“Hey.” I’m going to make love to you tonight. Feeling shy, I glance away and I want to kick myself. Where’s the girl who could frighten football players with one look?
“You’re early.” Ryan closes the door and I move straight for his bedroom. Twice, Ryan tried to convince me to hang in another room, but being anywhere else in his perfect house reminds me that I can never measure up.
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“Scott and Allison went to bed early.” I lean against the door frame to his room and try to calm the thousands of feathers swirling in my stomach. “Chris isn’t stopping by, is he?”
“No. He knows I’m seeing you tonight and that I have to be up early for my writing competition.” Ryan cups my waist with his hand. His thumb sneaks underneath my shirt and draws circles onto my skin.
I notice a bundle of papers tied together with two pink ribbons on the middle of his bed.
“What’s that?”
Ryan places some space between us, but
slides his fingers into mine. “A finished copy of ‘George and Olivia.’ It’s yours. So are the ribbons.”
“Cool.” Because it is. Ryan will do well at so many things when he graduates.
“Take a look at the title page.” Ryan releases me and I immediately miss his touch.
I plop on the bed, untie the bow, and blink— Dedicated to the girl I love: Beth Risk. My fingers skim the page as if caressing the words will make them more real. George was a short story for class. Olivia came to life because Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about the story. He HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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dedicated it to me because… because he
actually loves me.
A twinge of pain flashes in my chest. I could be happy here in Groveton. Scott’s not so bad.
In fact, I kinda enjoy waking in the morning and telling him about school. I appreciate how Scott nods while I talk and when I stop, how he asks questions to show he heard what I said. I adore sitting in class next to Lacy and listening to her ramble about useless gossip. I love health class and despite what Allison said, I’m becoming fond of science. I like watching Logan, Chris, and Ryan one-up each other. I like…I like…
I run my hand over the paper again. I love Ryan. I’m in love with him. I love how he smiles. I love how he moves. I love his hands on my body and his lips on mine. I love how he laughs. I love how he makes me laugh. I love how he can smooth away the roughness and make me feel like someone worth loving.
“It’s perfect.”
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Ryan
IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BED, Beth touches the title page for a third time. She likes the gift.
The queasy anxiety I’ve had all day fades. The mattress sinks when I sit beside her. Crimson stains her cheeks as I brush my fingers against her skin. It’s hard to believe she’s the same girl from Taco Bell. Beth was hard and shut down that night. The girl on my bed is open and soft.
The physical differences are obvious. I run my hand through the sleek, silky strands and she edges away. She hates what I see, but I don’t. One inch of golden-blond stretches from her roots. The blond highlights the blackness of the rest of her hair. I love the black. I love the blond. I’d hate to see either one of them go.
Somehow both suit her.
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