“Damn straight,” she admits, nodding her head.
“And I would’ve let you.”
Across the street, my uppity neighbors walk outside. Every time I see them, they’re fighting, and judging by their raised voices and stiff movements, today’s no different. It’s no wonder they get along so well with my parents. I’ve had nothing but sucky examples of relationships my whole life. Even my grandparents, who loved me as best they could, slept in separate rooms. It’s insane that I ever thought I could make it work with Peyton back then.
But now… now I’m smarter. I’ve felt love from Carlos’s family. They treat me like their own. Brandon’s mom and even Aly’s parents welcome me and show me what true love is like. I also have Coach. He’s taught me what a man looks like, how he acts and holds himself. I only wish I could’ve known these things earlier. It would’ve saved us both so much heartache.
Once my miserable neighbors are tucked inside their Benz, I say, “Sunshine, you had me wrapped around your little finger. If we were going to break things off, and I really thought we should, I needed it to be your decision. I had to make it good enough that you wouldn’t ever want me back… because I was weak... I still am, when it comes to you. I knew it was only a matter of time until I realized how much I needed you and begged for forgiveness.”
Peyton doesn’t give me the smile I hoped for. She just keeps watching me, staring into me with those big, blue eyes, and I lean forward on my elbows, needing her to understand.
“I had to keep you safe,” I say. “I was terrified I’d mess things up. With you, with your dad. I know I hurt you, and that my methods were stupid and unforgiveable, but I did what I believed was best. Peyton, you’ve always deserved better than me...” I clasp my hands and look at my feet. “A guy who couldn’t see past his own shit to hold you when you were scared out of your mind.”
Fuck. I really was a dipshit. There are so many things I’d go back and redo if I could, but that day… that day trumps them all. As I sit here, stewing in the mess I made of things, Peyton’s orange toenails appear next to my bare feet.
“You were scared, too,” she says, sinking on the bench beside me. “We were fifteen, Justin. You’re excused from not handling it perfectly. Or, well, handling it at all.”
She bumps my shoulder softly and I tilt my head to face her, smiling ruefully at the slight dig. Her eyes are sad as she tightens her mouth and studies me.
“You used to say that a lot, you know. That I ‘deserve better.’” Tentatively, she reaches out, brushing hair off my forehead, and a pulse of energy zings across my scalp. “Now that so much time has passed, do you still think that?”
“No.” I release a sigh. “I know you deserve better. I’m just too selfish to care.”
We sit quietly after that, Peyton absorbing my words, me hoping they make a difference. A small smile begins to bloom across her mouth, and though I’m terrified to read into it too much, I slowly stretch my hand out, linking our pinkies.
“Where do we go from here?”
Peyton scoots closer, our hips now touching as she stares at our entwined fingers. “Next week is graduation,” she says softly. “If you go pro, you’ll leave for who-knows-where, and your entire life will be baseball.” She raises her eyes to mine. “It’s the way it is and I’d never hold you back from that. But that’s not how you build a relationship. Long distances rarely work and I’ve already lived my life on hold… I won’t do it again.”
The statistic we learned in the “Mate Selection” section of our project springs to mind, like an annoying Debbie Downer: less than twenty-five percent of couples make it if they don’t live in the same area.
I can’t handle losing Peyton again. I barely survived the first time. When we get back together—when not if—we’re sticking for the long haul. Marriage, babies that don’t require a battery pack, the whole shebang. I never wanted it before but I do now—but only with Peyton.
Yeah, we’re young, but we’ll take our time. Graduate college and do it right.
But this girl is it for me.
An electronic cry snaps my head toward the front door where Gabi stands holding Justin Jr.
“Sorry to interrupt, but y’all need to do something.” She cranes her neck away from the robot baby like the crying disease is contagious. “This thing is possessed. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but it doesn’t want a bottle or a diaper, and it doesn’t need to be burped. I surrender. There’s a reason I avoided FACS. Babies and I, we don’t mix.”