23. Porter #2
“Uh, yeah,” I answer hesitantly. I know we’ve slept in the same bed before, but that was more “accidentally” falling asleep while watching a movie.
I wasn’t expecting that tonight. The thought of being so close, maybe even wrapping his muscles around me again, thrills me like it always does, but I also feel a bit guilty about just how much I want it.
He’s the one asking though, so I’ll go along with it.
Refusing would be weird. “Yeah, of course, if that’s what you want. ”
“I mean, as long as you’re okay with that? But, yeah, I’d really like that. You shouldn’t spend your birthday night alone.”
Memories of having those same thoughts on my birthday come back to me even if they’re a bit hazy. I wonder if I’d actually said it out loud to him.
“You know it’s not actually my birthday, right?” I check with a grin.
He smiles back as he drops his bag in what is now our shared room. “We’re going to pretend anyway.”
“Well, if that means extra attention, I guess I’ll suffer through it,” I joke, trying to not be too obvious about how much I love the plan. “So, what do you want to do? It’s still pretty early. We can make lunch or go into town? Sit on the deck?”
He smiles at me. “What do you want to do, birthday boy?”
I roll my eyes as I consider it for a moment. “I think I want to stay here. Josie had groceries delivered this week so we can cook later. But it’s really nice out, want to go for a walk around the lake? There’s a trail, but we didn’t walk it while she was here.”
“Sounds perfect,” he agrees, moving to put his shoes back on as I do the same.
We head outside, and I lead us to the trail. It’s a well-walked path that’s probably been beaten down by thousands of others’ footsteps over the years, but right now, it’s just us as we walk side by side.
“How’d the last game go?” I ask.
“We played really well. You would’ve been proud of me. Three goals and an assist.”
“So impressive. Am I friends with the best lacrosse player at our college?”
“You sure are,” he assures me with a smirk.
“Lucky me,” I respond, and my mind immediately goes back to his reaction to my tattoo, to how much he seemed to like it.
But I don’t need to be fantasizing about how I wish his reaction meant more, so I hurry to change the subject with the first thing that comes to mind.
“Do you ever think about where you’ll end up after college? ”
“Yeah,” he acknowledges. “Mostly I try to live in the moment, but now that it’s the second half of junior year, and it’s almost over, it does kind of freak me out. I’ve always had a plan, school then college for lacrosse, and now there’s nothing. I could do anything.”
“It’s weird being so close to having to find a job and being adults.
” I nod in agreement. “I was thinking about that earlier while I was waiting for you. Except, I’ve never felt like I had my next steps laid out in front of me.
I’ve always kind of just taken things as they come and tried to make the best of them. ”
He slows down, looking just at me now. “Does the not knowing scare you?”
“Yeah, sometimes.” I shrug, pausing to consider how to explain.
“I think what scares me most is doing nothing with my life. Moving back to my hometown, into my mom’s house, still feeling like I should take care of her and my brother, even if they don’t want me to, and waking up five years from now still there.
I know it can happen so quickly. One month turns into a year, and suddenly you get comfortable and never leave. ”
He shakes his head. “You work so hard. I don’t see that for you… unless you want it?”
“I don’t,” I confirm quickly. “But wanting something doesn’t always make it happen.”
I want a lot of things that I can’t have.
Like Will.
We continue walking in silence, the sound of our shoes crunching against the path seemingly louder than before as we both consider our futures.
I don’t want to think about the fact that we only really have a couple of months before the summer when I’ll go home to work the high-paying seasonal waiting gig I always do. When I’ll be away from him again.
Even if Will plans to stay on campus over the summer, we’ll still be hours apart.
“I think that’s one of the reasons why I like Cove Lake so much,” I continue, wanting to get out of my head.
“It gives me permission to not be so worried about my family and to create my own life. I love my mom and brother, I really do, but I also love being far enough away that no one expects me to pop in to help with anything.”
“Is your brother still at home?”
“Near there, but he doesn’t live with my mom anymore. He’s in his first year as a welder now. He spent the last two years of high school in a vocational program, and now he makes pretty good money. I’m proud of him.”
“Have you worked at the coffee shop since freshman year?”
“Yeah. What about you, have you ever had a job?” I ask lightly, but I’m still worried it comes off as bitter.
He scrunches up his nose as he smiles. “I helped run a lacrosse camp in my hometown last summer. Does that count?”
I smirk, nodding as I picture Will as a coach. He’d be great at it. “What about you though? You never said what you’re afraid of.”
We’re still walking, and he chews on his lip for a moment, as if he needs to consider his answer.
“I think I’m afraid that I’ll follow the most logical path and wake up one day realizing it wasn’t actually what I wanted.
I picked a major that made sense for me, but I’ve always been more focused on lacrosse than my potential job.
I don’t know what I want career-wise. I could join the family business, but I think I want to try to make it on my own first, too. ”
“I don’t think you have to worry too much. I can’t imagine you’d stay in a job or anywhere really that didn’t feel right.”
“Like you said, one month can turn into a year before you realize.”
I freeze mid-step, turning to look at Will, and he does the same. “How about we make a promise to each other?”
“What kind of promise?”
I can feel my heart racing, and for some reason this feels like an important moment for us.
Maybe it’s because of how badly I missed him when we were apart, but the thought of Will only being temporary in my life is kind of devastating.
I’m desperate to have some sort of reassurance that our friendship won’t end when the school year does, or even when we graduate.
This might be a silly suggestion, but… “If either one of us seems like we’re settling, like we’re shrinking, or just… drifting along in a life we don’t actually want, the other one has to call it out.”
“Call it out how?”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “They get to pick a wild dare.”
“A dare?”