Chapter 23 #3
“What about you? How is the Gazette ?” Andrew asks when he finishes his update.
“The Gazette is good,” I reply.
The truth is, it’s been an endless slew of grunt work with little pay or opportunities to write. But it’s been something. A little piece of my life that’s just for me.
Andrew listens intently as I describe some of the few more exciting tasks I’ve received. I’m touched by the way he acts as though my anecdotes are just as interesting as his. It makes me feel a little bad for all the times I gave him sass in high school.
I’m halfway through describing the paper’s plan to cover the upcoming Landry Cup when I feel the shift. It ripples through the whole backyard.
Caleb Winters is what an unbiased observer would call a ridiculously hot guy. He had girls falling over themselves to talk to him in high school, and the past three years haven’t made him any less appealing. More so, it seems.
His hair is shorter than it’s been in months—an attempt to combat the Georgia heat, I’m guessing—and all it does is show off his symmetrical bone structure.
He must have come straight here from the baseball camp he’s spent the past month at, because he’s got a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. The strap pulls the cotton of his T-shirt taut, revealing how he has the musculature of an elite college athlete to go along with good genes.
I keep talking to Andrew, forcing my attention to remain mostly on him as Caleb stops next to where Colt is standing, saying something to his best friend.
I don’t mind Caleb knowing I’m insanely excited to see him, but I’ve never been able to shake the compulsion to act more aloof when we’re in public.
I don’t enjoy appearing vulnerable, especially around people who used to taunt me in the halls.
And, it’s only been a month since I saw him.
There’s no need to act like a clingy girlfriend.
We’ll face stretches longer than this once Caleb returns to Clarkson for his senior year.
There may not be as much geographic distance between us then, but we’re both busy enough weekend visits more than every six or eight weeks are impossible.
“You should think about doing a trainer feature, too,” Andrew suggests. I focus back on him and our conversation about the Gazette .
“That’s a good idea,” I reply. “They don’t get much coverage. If I had any say—”
“Hey.”
I let my eyes fly to where they want to go, relieved I’m no longer having to fake any indifference.
“Hi,” I breathe.
Caleb stares at me, and I do the same to him. I soak in the satisfying sensation of being in the exact place where I want to be. When Caleb’s in Landry with me, things feel perfect.
Too bad it’s an exceedingly rare occurrence.
“Hey, Andrew,” Caleb greets, looking away from me for the first time since he approached.
“Uh, hi—hi. Caleb.”
I smile as Andrew stutters. I know he cares about baseball about as much as I do, so his obvious nerves are more a testament to Caleb’s universal appeal.
Probably also has something to do with the fact most of the backyard is looking at us now.
Andrew and I are the two people here least appreciative of attention.
“See you guys,” Andrews blurts, then takes off.
I stare at the spot he was standing for a few seconds, then slowly let my eyes drift over to the guy standing next to me. I allow the joy I’m experiencing to break through as a wide smile when our gazes meet, re-memorizing his features from up close.
The blue eyes I love to get lost in.
The dark hair now too short to flop on his forehead.
The smirk as he watches me ogle him.
I think I fall in love with Caleb a little more every time I look at him.
“You missed a spot.” I touch the tip of his nose, where the skin is peeling in response to intense sun exposure. New freckles dot his nose and cheeks as well.
Caleb sighs. “I was wearing a hat. And sunscreen. I just sweat it off.”
“It was that hot?”
“Ridiculously so. High nineties every day. Hit a hundred a couple of times. Each year I say I’m not going to go back…”
“And yet each year you go again.”
“It makes Landry summers feel cool in comparison,” Caleb tells me.
“Right. Because you spend so much time in Landry during the summer.”
The sentence slips out before I filter the words, and I watch them register on Caleb’s face. Guilt. He looks guilty for going to the best baseball camp in the country, and the same emotion swamps me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just missed you.”
“I missed you too, Matthews.” He tugs me to him, and I sink into the first kiss we’ve shared in twenty-seven days.
“It was the last time,” he says when his lips leave mine.
I know the words are meant to be a reassurance, but they’re the exact opposite. Caleb won’t be returning to the baseball camp in Georgia he’s attended since graduating high school because next summer he’ll either be at a professional team’s training camp or done with the sport for good.
That may mean he’s not spending a month in Georgia, but it won’t mean he’s spending it here in Landry instead.
“Good.” I don’t let any doubts leak into my voice.
We only have five days together before he heads back to Clarkson. I’ll have plenty of time to stress about the future after he’s gone.
Right now, I just want to soak up his presence.
“Did you eat?” Caleb asks me.
I shake my head. “I was waiting for you.”
Caleb kisses me again. This time, it’s more than a quick peck of greeting. It’s heat and tongue and urgency. I melt against him, not caring that people are probably watching us. Lust leeches away any inhibitions.
“Damn. I missed you, Matthews,” Caleb tells me when we finally break apart. Hunger is clearly reflected in his blue eyes. Along with some sadness. Because we say those words way too much to each other.
Missing someone can be interpreted as a gift. It means it’s someone you care about enough to. It’s also an awful ache with no easy remedy or cure.
“Doesn’t seem that way,” I tease, turning my head so I’m pressed up against the hollow of his throat. He smells the same as always. Like spearmint and woodsy cologne and Caleb.
I feel his lips press against my hair before he pulls me over to where Colt is grilling.
“Did I mention how much I like this dress?” he asks as we walk across the grass, flashing me a cheeky grin.
“Not with words, but I kind of got the sense you liked it just now.”
He laughs. “I like the dress.”
“It’s one Cassie gave me.”
“I figured, since you’re not wearing jeans.”
I punch his arm for that comment. “You try riding a horse or cleaning the barn in a dress.”
We fix burgers from the array of toppings that have been spread out. Caleb takes a seat in one of the lawn chairs on the patio. There are plenty of seats available, but he pulls me onto his lap. I let him, happy to pretend like we’re the only two people here.
Most of the people here are ones I see more frequently than I’d like to.
Caleb Winters is one of two people in this world I feel like I’ll never be able to spend enough time with.
He chats with some guys from his high school baseball team while I eat, describing new plays and drills from the camp he was at that I couldn’t care less about.
I’ve absorbed some knowledge of the sport through osmosis, both from Gramps blasting game commentary from the living room and Caleb talking about it, but any affection I have for the sport is purely based upon Caleb’s love of the game.
I also harbor some appreciation for the uniform he wears while playing it.
I’m not sure who decided the pants had to be quite that tight, but I’m certainly not complaining.
We must radiate the same nauseating air that a couple who makes out in a movie theater does, because after Caleb catches up with his old teammates, almost everyone leaves us alone.
I finish my burger and hand Caleb my drink before leaning against his shoulder.
“Bad?” he asks.
“If you like warm beer, probably not.”
I watch the tendons of his throat contract as he takes a sip. “Not great.” He grins.
“Make sure to tell Colt.”
Caleb sets the can on the ground and then leans back in the chair, pulling me against his body. His fingers trail up and down the bare skin of my thigh, and I shift in his lap.
“Caleb…” I warn. He smirks but doesn’t stop the motion.
Heat simmers in my veins.
“Did you hear back yet?” Caleb asks abruptly.
I don’t need to ask for clarification on what he’s wondering about.
“No,” I lie, glad he can’t see my face right now.
I need to tell him. I know I need to tell him. But I haven’t decided how to. Haven’t decided what I’m going to say when I do. I’m running out of time on both.
“They hardly ever admit new students just for senior year,” I add, even as I know it’s unnecessary.
I may be withholding the truth from him right now, but I know I’m not going to lie and tell Caleb I didn’t get in. When I decide not to go, I need to be completely honest with him about why. Not take the easy way out. If such a thing exists in this situation.
“I know,” Caleb replies. After a pause, he adds, “Thank you, Lennon.”
His words burn with an earnestness that makes it clear he’s not belatedly thanking me for the lukewarm can of beer.
But I act as though it’s nothing more than a casual statement of appreciation.
Because acknowledging the fact Caleb knows the sacrifice even applying was for me makes this a thousand times harder.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
We sit in silence until Jake and Luke approach. “Ready, lovebirds?” Jake teases. “Colt’s packing up the car.”
“I left my bag in Cassie’s trunk,” I say, breaking out of Caleb’s grip and standing. “Let me go grab it.”
I catch Jake’s nod before I walk away. He and Luke stay by Caleb’s side as I head over to where Cassie is standing with Ellie Nash and a few other girls from our graduating class.
“Look who finally remembered Caleb’s not the only person here,” Cassie teases.