18. Dylan
EIGHTEEN
DYLAN
It feels like a betrayal. The whole thing.
He’s bent over the engine of an old Toyota, a socket wrench in hand, specks of oil on his skin, a piece of cloth stuck in the waistband of his jeans.
He looks up when he hears me come in and grins widely.
“Hey. I didn’t know you were stopping by.” He straightens up, grabs the cloth, and wipes his hands before he wipes his forearm over his face. “What’s up?”
“Uh.” How do you do this? How do you leave? My heart feels so heavy it’s sinking to the bottom of the soles of my shoes. “I… I…”
I give a helpless shrug. No real words.
I blow out a breath.
Get yourself together, Dylan.
“I’ve got some news.”
“Yeah?” he says, all his attention on me.
“I, uh, I got accepted into a university.”
Adrian’s smile is happy and proud and excited. It’s the excitement that makes me feel even smaller.
“Yeah?” he says. “I didn’t know you’d applied.”
I shrug, wordless.
“Kind of felt like it was time,” I finally mutter. “I mean, things are stable and…” I shrug.
“Okay?” he says, still just pure excitement. For me. This is all for me. “Where? BU?”
“Umm, no?”
He snorts. “Are you sure? You don’t sound so sure.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“Okay. Where then?”
“Uh.” My heart feels so heavy it’s sinking to the bottom of the soles of my shoes. My hands are cold when I hold my phone out toward him with the email open on the screen.
He sends me a confused smile and grabs the phone.
He starts to read, and the smile melts away until there’s nothing left of it. He looks at the screen for the longest time, reads it over and over again.
When he looks up again, the smile is back. Whatever I’ve shaken lose with my news is gathered back up again and put back in his place.
“That’s a great school,” he says. “Wow. Stanford. I didn’t know you’d applied there.”
I lick my dry lips and force a smile too.
“Sort of on a whim. I didn’t think I’d get in, so I didn’t say anything.”
Lies.
“Wow,” he repeats. “California.”
It takes him so little time to hide away whatever else he’s thinking, because he’s not going to hurt my feelings or make things hard for me. He never would.
Even if it feels a bit like I’m rubbing it in his face. You wanted to see the world, and you can’t leave. I can, and I will.
Adrian whoops and grabs me in a bear hug. He pats me on the back and ruffles my hair and tells me we’ll celebrate.
“California’s not that far away,” he says.
“No.” I shove every traitorous feeling down deep inside me. “Almost next door.”
We’re both silent. The smile on my face is painful.
I jerk my thumb toward the door. “I should probably get going. I’ve got stuff to do. I just… wanted to tell you in person.”
“I’m happy for you,” he says. His smile is equally painful to watch.
“I’ll see you later.”
He nods.
I turn around and walk out of the garage.
My car is parked around the side of the building, but I don’t make it there. Instead, there are footsteps. Fingers wrap around my forearm, I’m wrenched back and around, and I find myself engulfed in a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
“I already miss you.” He says the words into my neck, and I wrap myself tighter around Adrian.
I can’t say anything, because I’m afraid the moment I open my mouth I’ll promise to stay forever.
“San Francisco isn’t that far away,” Adrian says. “I’ll come visit. And we’ll call. And text. All the time. And email. And write. And…” He runs out of words.
“Use homing pigeons to carry messages?” I say with a wet laugh.
“If all else fails.”
He holds me tightly.
I cling to him carelessly. I catalog his scent and the feel of his body against mine. The way his hair smells and the calluses on his palms. Everything. I burn it all into my brain.
“I love you,” I say.
He won’t get it, but I have to say those words. Even if it’s just this once.
He grins at me.
“Love you too, Dyl.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and safely tuck those words into the Adrian files in my heart. I already know I’ll be taking them out numerous times, revisit them, examine them, imagine him saying it to me for real. Imagine him mean it for real.
He pulls away, rubs his palm over his face, and rolls his eyes. “What the fuck? This is not a goodbye.” He lets out a short laugh. “Come on. This is good news. Let’s go tell the others, and then we can properly celebrate.”
He grabs my hand and tows me to his car.
He leads.
I follow.
One last time.
For old times’ sake.