Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
But when he’s not around … I try to remember what it was like before him. To prepare myself for what I’m going to go back to, and to convince myself that I’ll be okay with that.
It won’t be all stolen kisses between classes and quick breakfasts before a busy day. I won’t have the nights to fall asleep beside him.
And that’s okay.
“I didn’t ask him, actually.”
There’s another weighted silence, then Mom melts. “Sweetheart, did you break up? I’m so sorry!”
I shake my head. “No. He had to go to New York, and I had to come here.”
Technically, he’d asked me to go to New York with him, but his first meeting with his agent isn’t a memory I want to be a part of. We haven’t really talked about what happens next, but I know if he does get signed with an NHL team, he’s going to be even busier than this year. If he becomes a big name, like I’m sure he will, his life is going to look dramatically different.
I can’t picture fitting into that world.
And while Foster sees my oddness as adorable now, he needs someone at his side who will help him thrive.
“What’s he in New York for?” Dad asks, trying for casual.
“A hockey thing.”
“Hockey?” Dad repeats.
I cringe at the excitement that hits his tone, remembering hockey is one of the few sports Dad actually follows. “Ah, yeah. Foster has a meeting with a sports agent. It’s a pretty big deal for him.”
“A sports agent? He must be good.”
That familiar pride comes back, filling me with a burst of warmth. “H-he’s the best. I have no idea about hockey, but whenever he plays, I-I can’t take my eyes off him. I know he’s headed for the NHL because besides all his skill, there’s something about him that draws people in.”
There’s silence again. This is why I don’t bother speaking much when I’m home. Mom and Dad show support through their presence and small gestures, and while my mom can be overbearing with her worry, we’re not the type of family who gets into long conversations about our thoughts and feelings. We’re not the Grants.
Usually, I love that, but it’s occurring to me I don’t have many people to talk to about Foster, not even Seth or Ray. Seth’s his brother and Ray knew him first. It makes trying to vocalize things awkward.
“I don’t know where that leaves me,” I force out.
“Zach …”
“I should finish up my master’s early—probably by the end of next year—but that’s still a whole year apart, and I don’t know where I’ll end up after. I want to get my doctorate, and Professor Lawrence has already said he’d be happy to keep me on and continue advising me—”
“Well, that’s amazing, Zach—”
“It is, but I didn’t doubt I’d have that offer. When it comes to the things I control, I’m relatively confident. But in a relationship, where there are two people with opposing goals involved, I-I’m not sure what to do. He knows how happy I am for him, and I wouldn’t ask for anything else. But I don’t fit into that picture, and I don’t know if he’s even thought that far ahead yet. Am I thinking too far into the future? Should I even bring it up yet, and if I do, how do I tell him I’m … scared we only have six months left and that’s it, without it sounding like I want him to give it all up?”
And thanks to that word vomit, I’ve effectively stunned my parents into even more silence.
“Do you want it to be over?” Dad finally asks.
“Of course not.” I refuse to say the L word, but I’ve been close to slipping a few times lately. “I remind myself this has been a good experience—”
“I know what will help,” Mom says. “You can come and see my psychic with me. I’ll send her a text. I’m sure she’ll fit you in this w—”
“No psychics.”
“You need inner peace, sweetie. How will you achieve that if you don’t know—”
“Valerie.” Dad shakes his head and turns back to me. “What makes you think you won’t work in this imaginary world you keep talking about?”
“Have you met me?” I ask dryly.
“I damn well raised you, boy. And I like the person you’ve become, but you’ve gotta stop overthinking.”
My lips twitch. That’s as close to an I love you as I’d ever get from him. “Overthinking is my MO.”
“I dunno if it’s the same for you gays, but for your mom and me, we talk. If she’s fluttering about too much, I tell her. If I leave my dirty boots around the house, she never lets me hear the end of it. If there’s something worrying you, you have to speak up. Maybe it ends now. Maybe it ends when you think it’s gonna. Or maybe it doesn’t end at all.”