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Authors: Rachael Brownell

Holding On (58 page)

BOOK: Holding On
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I went to leave, but my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t
wait
until
I
got
home
to
know
what
he
had
sent.
I
hadn’t
thought
about
it until
now,
but I knew it was something special. He was still looking
at me when I turned around. Our eyes met, and
it’s
like he read my
mind.

“You
wanna know what I sent, don’t you?” He asked, a big smirk on his
face.

“Smartass.
Of
course,
I
do.
Are
you
going
to
make
me
call
my
mom and find out, or are you going to tell
me?”

“I guess I could tell you
but—”

“Just tell me!” I
screamed.

The anticipation was killing me. He knew that I was impatient
and was trying to drag this
out.

“Okay,
okay.
Calm down. I just sent you your yearbook.
Ella brought
it
over
and
asked
me
to
send
it
to
you.
You
guys
won
some award or something.
You’ll
have to ask
her.”

So that was why Ella looked so awful when I walked in. She
was probably blaming herself just like I was. I knew exactly how she felt.
I wanted to make that feeling go
away.
I wanted to rewind time and
find a way for him to avoid the accident. I wanted my guilt to go
away.
No
chance that was going to be happening anytime
soon.

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see it. Did you at least sign it before
you sent
it
to
me?”
I
asked,
already
knowing
the
answer
to
my
own
question.  

“You
know
I
did.
Same
place
as
always.”
He
replied.
His
smirk told me that his message would be worth reading. He was the only
guy I
knew
that
took
the
time
to
write
something
meaningful,
and
it
was
always
the
perfect
thing
to
write,
especially
since
he
wrote
over
the cheer
team’s
page
in
Sharpie
every
year.
He
has
always
harbored
hatred for that
sport.

With
a
wink
and
a
little
wave,
I
left
Brad
to
take
his
nap.
I
found Ethan
in
the
waiting
room
with
the
rest
of
my
friends.
He
was
in
the middle of talking to Ella when I walked up, and he barely stopped
his conversation as he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me on the
cheek. Ella, on the other hand, about fell out of her seat at the sight of it all.

I
could
feel
the
blush
creeping
up
my
neck
and
into
my
cheeks.
I had talked about Ethan the entire time I was here over the summer,
but it
never
occurred
to
me
that
my
friends
would
meet
him
someday.
These were
not
the
conditions
that
I
wanted
him
to
meet
them
under,
but
he was
here
now.
They
had
only
seen
crappy
cell-phone
pictures
of
him that barely did him any justice. I hadn’t thought to bring pictures
with
me. Ella had a reason to ogle him, and I knew it.

As I glanced around the room at the friends I had known most of my life, the ones that I had been closest to nine months ago, I
realized that
time
does
change
things.
Sometimes
it’s
the
little
things,
sometimes
it’s
the bigger things. Mostly
it’s
just the distance that makes you
find a way to bridge the gap in any relationship. My friends and I had
each found a way to bridge the gap, and our relationships were still
strong.

Brad and I were a shining example of coming full circle.
We
had always wanted to be best friends, tried, and succeeded at times.
Mostly,
we
were
always
fighting
our
feelings
for
each
other
behind
something
or someone. I used tennis and school as my barricade; he used
girlfriends. Now
we
were
both
honest
with
each
other,
accepting
of
each
other,
and, after
the
scare
of
a
lifetime,
closer
than
we
ever
thought
we
could
be.
We
were truly best friends, with no hidden intentions this time
around.

Becca,

This year has been one of the hardest of my life. I thought I
would lose you and in the end I did, but not how I thought. I am so happy
for you.
I
am
glad
that
you
found
your
place
in
this
world,
that
you
are
happy and that I can still be a part of your life. Hopefully an
important part.

Have a great senior
year.
It will suck without you
here
but I
know that we will see each other again
soon.

Love,
Brad

PS: Make
sure
you let me know if I need to kick
Ethan’s
ass. I
will always have your
back.

Epilogue             

 

One
Year
Later

 

 

Holy
crap!
I’m
gonna
be
late.
I
can’t
be
late.
I
do
not
want
to
be that
person
who
walks
in
late
on
the
very
first
day.
I
could
see it
now:
the
door
slamming
behind
me
and
echoing
around
the
room, everyone turning to stare in my direction. I would probably top that
off with tripping down the stairs or something from mortification.
I
cannot be
late.

I
grabbed
all
my
bags
and
rushed
outside.
I
hit
the
sign
on
the crosswalk
and
prayed
that
it
would
change
soon.
I
had
ten
minutes
to
do a five-minute walk, but I knew that if the crosswalk didn’t cooperate,
I would have only about
five.

It changed, and I rushed across the street without looking. It
was
just after morning rush hour, but I should have looked. Living so
close to campus was a blessing and a curse. I could take advantage and
sleep
in,
but
then
I’d
feel
like
a
maniac
and
rush
around.
If
I
get
caught
by traffic or if the light refuses to change, then I could be late. I needed
to get
myself
motivated,
get
up
a
little
earlier,
and
not
feel
so
rushed
in
the mornings.

It’s
only
been
two
weeks
since
we
all
moved
in,
but
it
has
been the
best
two
weeks
of
my
life
so
far.
I
was
shocked
when
my
mom and
dad
agreed
to
let
me
live
off
campus
in
a
two-bedroom
house with
one
other
girl
and
two
guys.
I
thought
they
would
have
freaked out, especially when they found out the sleeping arrangements. I truly believe that they love Ethan more than I do.

I rush inside my classroom, and when the door slams shut
behind me,
I
close
my
eyes
and
secretly
pray
that
it
wasn’t
as
loud
as
it
sounded.
When
I
opened
them
again,
I
notice
that
not
a
single
person
was
looking at me, and when I heard the door open behind me, I headed to find
my seat. I was smiling wide, thinking to myself. This was my first
college class
as
an
actual
college
student.
Last
year,
I
felt
like
an
imposter.
I kept
mostly
to
myself
for
the
first
few
weeks
after
Ethan
and
I
came home, but then it was impossible to remain
invisible.

Once
the
tennis
season
got
in
full
swing,
Ethan
was
in
the
spotlight. I
was
right
there
next
to
him
most
days,
and
that
meant
I
was
in
the spotlight
too.
Toward
the
end
of
my
season,
now
that
everyone
knew who
I
was,
I
created
a
spotlight
around
us
as
well.
Not
only
was
I
playing at
the
top
of
my
game
and
getting
attention
for
that,
but
my
relationship was also garnering attention, no matter if I wanted it to or
not.

I
received
two
offers
for
scholarships
throughout
the
season,
neither of
which
were
at
the
U.
I
knew
that
if
I
had
to,
I
would
go
to
college without
a
scholarship.
I
planned
on
staying
there
and
staying
with
Ethan. Unlike him, I was able to make that decision quickly and before it
was
necessary. I was rewarded for my patience when the coach offered
me one
of
the
two
scholarships
available
at
the
end
of
the
season.
I
said
yes on the spot, and the rest is history.
Well,
sort
of.

That history was about to begin at three o’clock this afternoon.
I’d be having my first match, and although I was not playing at one
singles
today,
that would be unheard of as a freshman—I was playing my
arch rival.
I
knew
that
she
had
been
preparing
for
me
since
I
beat
her
that
first time a year and a half ago. Although we played each other a few
times during
my
run
last
fall
with
the
U
and
again
in
the
spring
against
her high school team, she had yet to beat me, and I was pretty sure she
was
getting annoyed with that little
fact.

Not
only
had
she
never
beaten
me,
but
she
made
calculated
mistakes. They were easy to spot, and I knew how to push her buttons enough
to get her to make them. That might sound mean or conniving, but
that’s
the game. If you want to win, you have to outplay your opponent
and that means taking advantage of their weaknesses. I planned on
taking advantage
of
all
her
weaknesses
this
afternoon
and
starting
out
my collegiate career with a
win.

I
turned
my
focus
to
the
professor
as
she
walked
in.
This
class should
be
a
breeze,
Photography
210,
but
the
smile
that
engulfed
her face as she said what I was thinking told me otherwise. She looked
like a kid with her hand in the cookie
jar.
She introduced herself and
started
explaining
what
the
class
was
all
about.
A
couple
students
that
were handpicked from the front row were now passing out our
syllabus.

I cringed slightly when I saw that this class was going to be
harder than
I
thought.
I
looked
around
to
gauge
the
reaction
of
the
other
students
and
realized
that
they
were
thinking
the
same
thing
I
was.
I
skimmed
the first page, then the second. On the third page was a list of office
hours, phone numbers, and teacher assistants. When I reach the bottom of
the page, I smiled and focused back on my professor. I would do just
fine in this class. I had the advantage of a live-in tutor if I start to
struggle.

Once the class was over, I made my way to the campus
Bookstore. I
bought
all
my
books
last
week,
but
I
had
a
lunch
date.
He
got
a
job the day he moved into the house, and now I felt like I was seeing
him even less than before. That was not really possible, but I was starting
to explore
the
more
dramatic
parts
of
my
personality
these
days.
I
was
told it
was
the
influence
of
living
with
guys.
Apparently,
you
need
to
make
a big deal out of
everything
in order to get them to make a big deal out
of
anything
. I had yet to really test this
theory.

I
walked
in
and
looked
around
until
I
spotted
him
through
the
thick sea of students. His shift ended ten minutes ago, but he was still
behind the counter ringing up books. I could tell he was ready to go just by
the look
on
his
face.
As
I
began
to
approach,
he
looked
up,
and
our
eyes met. A
slow,
lazy smile started to creep across his face, and his eyes
lit up.

BOOK: Holding On
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ads

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