Shawnie chewed on some of her own food, Kung Pao shrimp and vegetables, then took a sip of her tea. The restaurant, in a nod to the Southern culture in which it was located, offered both iced and traditional hot tea with its meals, although they had so far not bowed to the Southern convention of adding ridiculous amounts of sugar to all tea.
"That's something I think each person needs to answer for themselves," she eventually replied. "I can't speak for you, Abby, but from what I've seen from you, I think you need to talk to him either way. Can I ask—you don't need to answer or anything, but from the way you acted afterward . . . I take it that it was more than just a kiss or something?"
"God, yes," I immediately said, blushing. “A lot more.”
Shawnie nodded, then grinned. “It was that good, huh?"
I couldn't help it, I laughed. The humor helped. "You have no clue, Shawnie. Seriously, that man could do things that I never imagined."
"And your hang-up about him, is it because of that, or because of him?" she asked, springing her trap. It was part of the reason I liked her so much. She was willing to confront me, but always in a way that was for my own good. "I'm just saying, if you're having bad dreams and not sleeping because you need a good orgasm, I'll get you a battery-powered sleep aid for your graduation present. Rechargeable, even. But I think you're more authentic than that."
I couldn’t help but laugh, and it gave me something to think about. I took a sip of my tea, thinking. Shawnie and I worked our way through the rest of our meal when she took something out of her pocket. "Hey, I got a letter today."
"Oh?" I asked. "Who from?"
"Not who, but where," Shawnie said. "I got accepted for a full ride to Stanford for grad school."
I blinked, stunned. "Full ride? Really?"
Shawnie nodded, sighing. "Yeah. You remember that summer internship I did last summer, the one with the lab over in Texas?"
"Duh," I replied with a laugh. "Shawnie, you got to do a summer internship at the Johnson Space Center. What could be better for an engineering student?"
"Well, the guy I was working with there—I thought he was a total prick, but it turns out that he wrote a letter to the admissions people at Stanford. He's buddies with the head of the aeronautical engineering department there, and they've collaborated on some projects together. In any case, when my application went across his desk, the guy pushed for me. And by the conversation I had with the guy last night on the phone, if my first semester works out well, he'd be able to get me a paid TA position second-semester teaching freshman math too. It's not a lot, but it'd put cash in my pocket and totally eliminate the need for me to do a part-time job."
I whistled. "You must have really made an impression on the guy at Johnson."
"I guess I must have," Shawnie said with a chuckle. "I never would have thought it from the way he acted the whole time I was there."
"So what are you going to do?" I asked. "You know I've only applied to schools in the area. GT, Duke, UGA, stuff like that."
"I know," Shawnie said quietly. She looked at the letter, which she'd taken out of the envelope while we talked, then looked up at me. "Abby, you're my best friend, but this is too good to pass up. I mean, a paid Master's? Not too many girls from the Sandhills get a chance like that."
"Not to mention you'll be working with some of the best and brightest in the world, as well as being able to maybe score a job with the JPL, or maybe one of those aircraft manufacturers that you bent my ear about so much," I said. I reached across the table and took her hands. "If you want my advice, I want you to do it. I mean, of course I'll miss you, but we can still get together during summers, and besides, it'll give you motivation to make a plane fast enough that you and I can hang out on weekends or something."
Shawnie squeezed my fingers and lowered her head, blinking. "Thanks, Abby. I love you, girl.”
"I love you too, sweetie," I replied. My phone rang, and I took it out of my pocket. I looked at it, then I looked up at Shawnie. "It's him."
"Who?" she asked, momentarily having a vacant moment.
"You know . . . Dane.”
"Dane, so that's his name," she said while the phone rang. "So what are you going to do?"
I thought, my finger hovering between the green and red buttons. "Hell, you listened to my advice. I might as well follow yours," I said, jabbing the green button. "Hello?"
"Abby, it's Dane. Don't hang up."
I looked over at Shawnie, who gave me a supportive smile and sat back. "I won't hang up, Dane. But you need to talk fast, and talk well."