Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The sky darkens out the windshield, the last of the sunset draining away.
I play with my seat belt as Austin drives, his arm draped over the steering wheel.
“Hey, do you ever pray while you run?” I ask.
“Yeah, definitely. Do you?”
“I’ve been trying it. I hate running without music though, and I can’t really pray when I keep singing lyrics to myself.”
His lips quirk. “I have an idea, but you’re gonna laugh at me.”
“Ooh, what is it?”
“Some of the songs on the Wonder Woman soundtrack would be so good for that. Instrumental and epic.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Bet you’ll feel like a million bucks too. Super Sophie. Some of the songs are too dynamic for good pacing though. You’ll have to check ’em out first.”
It should be illegal to be that cute. “‘Too dynamic for good pacing’? Where did that come from?”
“Oh, I dunno. Just researched good music for running a couple times. You know I love a good run. What have you been praying about?”
I shrug. “My parents. My major. You.” No idea why I’m being so honest. He doesn’t know the details, so it should be fine.
“Thanks, Soph.” So quiet.
Shoot. Maybe I freaked him out.
Just in time, the first words of “Country Stuff” by Walker Hayes fill the Jeep. Hunting. Dirt roads. Tractors. I can tell from his smirk that he follows the queue’s theme. I send a goofy smile to confirm I’m messing with him.
He pokes my shoulder gently.
“What, country boy?” I tease. “What is it?”
Pokes on my arm and stomach and leg.
I squirm and laugh. “Hey, no fair. I can’t get you back while you’re driving.”
“Ohh. You mean I’m cheating?” He tilts to me with meaning.
“Yes, you’re a naughty cheater!”
“Takes one to know one.” He pokes me again.
I grab his finger but drop it just as fast. My hand stretches out like Mr. Darcy’s.
“Is that your dream life?” I ask him, only half joking. “Driving a truck and fishing in the dark?”
His expression turns serious. “I like those things, but they’re not my dreams.”
“Well?”
His mouth opens. Shuts. “I want a family, a home … a wife I’m crazy about.”
And just like that I could crawl out of my skin. I have to get out of this conversation. Now.
“I wanna feel like God used me …” he continues.
I let my breath out.
“… that I helped people.”
That’s Austin.
Please give him all the things he wants, Jesus.
I try to picture her, even as my insides revolt. Sweet and content, like honey dripping off a biscuit. Gorgeous, obviously. A goodness that matches his. The type who owns an apron and actually uses it, pie cooling on the windowsill.
“Tell me your dreams, Soph.” Gentle. Locked in. He sees people in a way others don’t. Maybe that’s why he’s never wanted more with me—he can see that I’ll never be her.
“My dreams? I want to do things, see things. New things.” I snort. “I sound like Dr. Seuss. I just want to feel … free.”
My throat grows thick. What’s the opposite of my room in Pasadena? I want that.
A softened smile takes over his face as he drives. I have no idea what goes through his head, but I know it’s good. Selfless. Thrilling. He always is.
Why couldn’t I just like Leo? Or literally anyone else? How do I stop this madness?
I twist my bracelet around my wrist.
Should I quit this dysfunction with Austin? Cut ties?
I know he doesn’t want anything more with me. I know I couldn’t handle it even if he did. I know my heart gets more tangled every day with him. So what am I doing?
He pulls up to a giant, wooden, castle-themed playground.
I’ve been here once before, but this time it’s quiet.
Faded red light spills across the bridges and climbing walls.
My heart skips. I’ve always been called exhausting.
Too much. Calm down, they say. Chill out.
Take a seat. But Austin never makes me feel like I need to tone it down or grow up.
He brought me somewhere I get to be loud. Unpolished. Fully myself.
The second we’re parked, he pockets my keys and takes off, like a little kid cooped up too long.
We play hide and seek through towers and tunnels, climb a pine tree, race down the tallest slide.
No one’s more fun than Austin. He’s all open sky and motion, contagious joy.
Every second with him, my soul can breathe.
Eventually he drifts toward a painted railing and pulls out his phone.
That heart-stopping smile, but quieter now.
He taps a few words, pauses, taps again—flicking the back of his hand like he does when he’s thinking too hard.
I hang back, give him a second. Whatever it is, it’s got him somewhere else for a beat.
“Who is it?” I try to squeeze down the undeserved jealousy.
“Huh? Oh, nobody. I’m working on something.”
Okay …
“Here, sit for a minute?”
“No.” I wander off to find something to occupy my mind.
“Hey, come back here.”
My pulse doubles. Flirty Austin. Down, girl—leave it, my mind tells me, but I’m already turning.
“Make me.”
His eyes light up—pure mischief. My favorite. For half a second, neither of us moves.
Then I take off running in the opposite direction, scrambling up steps.
Two seconds and he’s right behind me. With no warning, he wraps a huge arm firmly around my middle and leaps off the playground through a gap.
Leaps. Off. The biggest rush. A happy scream.
We land on the wood chips, the world vibrating, and he gently sets me on my feet.
I don’t even know what happened to me until I see the fireman pole he—we—apparently slid down.
“What was that?” I push his chest with both hands, huge smile overtaking my face.
He lets me push him around the playground, up the steps, onto the wiggly bridge.
“That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m basically Tom Cruise doing my own stunts. No, Keanu Reeves.”
“Ohh-kay,” I say over a laugh, dropping my hands. “No big heads.”
But then he pulls out his phone again. My shoulders droop. I can’t keep his attention tonight. My feet drag me down the steps, across the wood chips, toward the car. I have to learn to quit him, but how? He’s … Austin.
“I know you like your chicken late—” The Zac Brown Band song from earlier but with a wrong word. His eyes follow something on his phone while he sings.
“Somewhere new on a Saturday night. A movie quote that hits just right. And so much queso”—laughing eyes flit to me—“you sleep in, no sunrise. Bring tears of laughter to your friends’ eyes.
You make us all feel more alive.” He pockets his phone but keeps singing.
“We wish you’d si-i-i-i-i-ing more.” His shoulder twitches.
“A couple lines need to be reworked, but you got impatient.”
That? That’s what he was doing? I toe the wood chips and risk a glance at him.
He sits on the wiggly bridge, facing me, legs dangling off the edge like a kid.
No one has ever lyric-swapped for me before.
Not like that. “A lyric swap, Austin?” I try to hide the awe with a teasing voice. “Trying to beat me at my own game?”
He shrugs.
“You make some solid competition.” Too quietly, I add, “I love it.”
A grin crawls across his face, and mine grows hot. I hope it’s too dark for him to see me blushing. Wow, this is so embarrassing. Subtlety? Never heard of her. Where do I go?
He ducks his head to shimmy off the bridge.
I don’t know what I’m going to do when I find him next to me, so I plop down in the middle of the park and wave my arms and legs into wood chip angels. I don’t know what to talk about. I don’t know what to think about. La-ti-da, this is normal behavior!
I boxed myself in on this field trip with him.
Can’t escape like I could on campus. Not even my phone can distract me.
The elephant isn’t just in the proverbial room—it’s sitting on my chest. A soft crunch, then that disarming mix of pine and soap hits as he drops beside me.
But I stare at the sky and try to breathe.
My heart competes with my brain for most erratic.
Stars and a bright moon peek around the wispy clouds.
He’ll want to see them. But he lowers to his side, head on his hand, and looks straight at me.
His breath tickles my cheek. What are we doing here?
Why doesn’t he have a date like usual? Did someone bail on him, or did he never make plans?
Why would anyone bail on Austin? I cover my face, trying to clear my head.
It’s so quiet between us. I desperately hope he can’t read my mind.
Am I freaking him out? Am I ruining my very favorite friendship?
How am I going to get through the next year and a half until he graduates without losing my mind? What am I going to do when he leaves?
“You okay, Soph?” His pensive voice. Deep and gravelly.
I nod behind my hands.
When I finally drop them and turn to him, his eyes are sad. Silence hangs between us.
Finally he speaks. “I love hanging out with you.” Then he lets out a sudden breath, climbs to standing, and offers a hand to help me up.
The last thing I need is to remember how good it feels to touch his enormous, rough hand. Forget that—I grab it.
“Race you to the Jeep,” he says.
And we’re off.
That’s not what you meant when you told me “She’s not ready,” is it? I botched it. I’m sorry. Help me do better. And if I have to … help me let go.