McKee University
I stare down at my phone, re-reading the email half a dozen more times. I submitted a series of photographs of James for the contest—some of him at work on the football field, and others of him off the field, including one of the photographs I took of him that morning in Pennsylvania. I hadn’t expected anything to come of it, not when there are plenty of actual visual arts majors at McKee.
But they liked my work. No—they loved it. They loved my range and my skillset.
Holy fuck.
I clasp my hand over my mouth as I scream, doing a little happy dance. I know they probably intend the prize money to be used for tuition, but screw that, I’m using it to buy myself new furniture.
I want nothing more in the world than to call James. He’d be so excited. If we were on good terms, he’d insist on going out to celebrate, probably at the arcade or to get milkshakes or something equally sweet. I almost do call him; I bring up his contact and everything. He’s the one who bought me the new camera, after all, and without it, I wouldn’t have been able to get those photographs in the first place.
Before I can decide, someone knocks on the door to the pantry. “Bex, honey?”
I open the door. Mom raises an eyebrow at me. “Why are you hiding in here?”
“I won a contest.”
“What contest?”
“I entered a photography contest, and I won.” My voice wobbles; I’m on the verge of tears, but at least they’re happy ones. “They said they loved my range and skillset.”
Mom pulls me into a hug. “Oh, sweetie. That’s wonderful.”
“I won a prize, and I might win a bigger one.” I pull back, adjusting my apron. “I was thinking we can use it to buy more furniture for the apartment.”
Mom shakes her head. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Nicole and Brian are going to help us. They have some stuff they wanted to get rid of anyway, and Nicole knows someone who refurbishes furniture who would be willing to give us a few pieces at a discount. Keep the money and use it for tuition.”
“You’re sure?”
She cups my cheek, rubbing her thumb over my skin. “It’s the least I can do. I know it’s not much, to make up for what happened, but…”
“No, that’s perfect.”
“Bex?” Christina pokes her head into the pantry. “There’s another boy here to see you. Not the same as last time.” She winks. “I think this one is the football player.”
My heart drops down to my belly. I have no idea if I’m ready for this conversation, but it’s not like I can ignore him, either. He knows where to find me. I push past my mother and walk back out into the dining area, stepping around the counter. James is waiting near the door, taking off a cap; his ears and cheeks are bright red from the cold. He looks around the room, and when he spots me, his whole face transforms, his smile a mixture of relief and happiness.
“Bex,” he says, “can we talk?”
46
JAMES
I hadn’t imagined having this conversation out in the cold, but Bex bundles herself in her coat and leads the way out back, and I don’t argue. At least she hasn’t kicked me to the curb. I was afraid that would happen, since I got in touch with her even though she’s the one who said she wanted space.
She crosses her arms over her chest, shivering slightly. I take my cap and stick it on her head. It’s flurrying lightly, adding to the snow that’s been on the ground since last month.
“James,” she says. “Your ears look frozen.”
“I’ll live.” I pat my chest before sticking my hands into my jacket pockets. The photograph is still tucked against my chest. Good. “How have you been?”
“Shitty,” she admits.
“Same.”
She gives me a half-smile. “I won that photography contest, though. My work is going to be in a gallery in the West Village.”
My mouth drops open. “That’s incredible!”
She bites her lip, probably to keep her smile from getting any bigger. “Yeah. It’s really awesome. I just found out before you got here, actually.”
I desperately want to pull her into a hug and kiss her silly, but I hold back. As much as I’d rather avoid it, we do need to talk. I can’t make her change her mind about thinking she’s not right for me, but I want to do my best to try and nudge her in the right direction.
“I’m so happy for you.” I can’t help reaching out to clap my hand over the cap on her head, relieved when that makes her laugh a little.
“James.”
“I forgot how short you are.”
“Fun-size,” she says.
I try to swallow. “Yeah. That’s you, baby.”
The amusement bleeds away from her expression. “I’m going to report Darryl.”
“Good.”
She takes in a deep breath, hugging her arms around herself. “Did you hear anything yet? Are you getting suspended?”
“I don’t know. Coach vouched for me. Told them I didn’t start the fight.”
It’s her turn to say, “Good.”
We stand there for a moment, looking at each other. It’s never been awkward between us; even when we didn’t know each other very well, the conversation flowed, so I’m taken aback by the tension in the air.
“I love you,” I can’t help but say.
“I love you too,” she whispers.
“I’m so sorry my dad made you feel like you couldn’t tell me what happened.” I take in a deep breath. Since the talk with my mom, I’ve been a little calmer about the whole thing, but I haven’t tried talking to my dad again yet, and I’m not sure when that will happen. Getting Bex back comes first. “I want you to know that I’m always going to choose you.”
Her expression shutters. “James.”
“I know it’s going to be hard,” I continue. “I know I need to prioritize things better. I know that when I’m on the field, I need to focus on it completely—but when I’m off the field? When I’m with you? I’m choosing you, no matter what.”
She looks up at me, her cheeks ruddy, eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I love you, Bex. I love the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re concentrating. I love your laughter. Your talent with a camera. I love your passion and your loyalty and how fucking smart you are. You’re everything to me. If you asked me to stop playing football, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
She sniffles, shaking her head. “Don’t do that.”
“Good. Because I thought about becoming a math teacher, and I don’t know if I’m capable of that.”
She laughs wetly. “Probably not, babe.”
“If you need to stay here for the diner and we have to be long-distance, I’ll hustle every single day to make it work. I promise. It doesn’t scare me anymore, because I know that everything will be worthwhile if I get to call you mine.”
She looks away, rocking in place as she shivers. Quiet so long I start to get a little worried. “What if I’m not… enough?”
“What?”
She meets my eyes. Her lip is wobbling. “What if it’s two years in and I’m here and you’re wherever and you realize it’s not worth it? That I’m not worth it?”
I take a step forward, pulling her into my arms. I don’t care that I’m supposed to be giving her space to think, she’s cold and upset and I can’t stand that. “You really think that?” I say. “You’re my princess, you’re worth the whole world.”
She presses her lips together. “I’m nobody special.”
“And I’m just some guy who’s good at throwing a ball.” I laugh softly, the sound caught in the cold wind. “Maybe neither of us are special, but that’s not the point. The point is you’re the best person I’ve ever met, and I wish more than anything that that’s how you saw yourself too.”
I reach into my jacket, pulling out the photograph. “I took this a couple of weeks ago. I know it’s shit, but I love how happy you look.”
She takes the photograph, looking down at it. It’s a simple picture I took with my phone, and I liked it so much I printed it out. Put it in my wallet. It’s of Bex taking a photograph in Red’s. She’s wearing a fuzzy pink sweater and those pie-slice earrings, her eyes lit up adorably as she fiddles with the camera.
“I remember this,” she says softly.
“That’s how I see you. When I close my eyes before I go to sleep, when I daydream—I imagine you just like that, making beautiful art. Being you.” I reach out, tweaking her earring; she’s wearing the hoops I got her for Christmas. “You’re worth everything, and you can do whatever you want to do, but don’t sell yourself short, either. This is what you deserve to be doing.”
She leans up and kisses me.