Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THEN
S enior year feels like the longest year of my life.
I can’t help but count down the days until graduation. My class schedule is light since I was able to get ahead on some of my credits, so I get to leave campus a couple hours early every day. But for the first few months I don't have anything to fill the extra time with, and my boredom makes the days move slower than molasses.
By mid-fall, I’ve applied to a handful of colleges— none of them in Texas—but I know I won’t hear back from them any time soon. I’m a little nervous about the whole process; as much as I still want to get out of dodge and see more of the world, I’m not sure how I’ll feel once it all becomes official. I’ve lived in Saddlebrook Falls my entire life, and the idea of being somewhere else on my own is somewhat intimidating.
I really hope I’m accepted into NYU. I also applied to USC and Northwestern because they both have great journalism programs, but when I think about where I can experience the most during college, New York feels like the perfect place. I think my grades are good enough to get in, though I wish I’d taken the last few years of my academics more seriously. Thank god for my love of photography, because I was able to submit some samples alongside my application.
“Hey,” Regan greets as she shuffles into a chair at the table I’ve been holding for the last twenty minutes. It’s Saturday night, and though the Mustangs didn’t win the game yesterday, Mustang’s Pizza is still crowded with our classmates.
“Hi,” I smile. “I already ordered us a pizza.”
Regan shimmies with excitement. “Perfect.” She looks around and waves at a handful of people before she settles her full attention on me. The corners of her mouth dip. “Uh oh.”
“What?”
“You have that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re having an existential crisis.”
I almost laugh. “I do not !” But she simply stares at me, leaning back in her chair as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay,” I concede. “Maybe a small crisis.”
“Mhmm.”
I take a sip of my sweet tea. “Do you know what you want to study in college?”
Regan nods. “Criminal justice.”
It’s the ease in which she answers that causes my chest to tighten. I sigh. “I’m having a hard time figuring out what I want.”
She tilts her head. “I thought you wanted to study journalism.”
“I do,” I say, nodding. “I just . . . I want to write about things that matter, like climate change or reproductive rights or wildlife conservation. Or, if writing doesn’t work out, I could lean on photography to capture a story. But I guess I’m just not sure how a career like that fits with everything else.”
“Fits?” she asks.
I feel my ears heat. “Jason wants me with him wherever he ends up. It kind of limits my options, not knowing where that’ll be.” It feels like an admission—the real source of my anxiety. The truth is, I’m terrified that my relationship with him goes against every belief I had before we started dating. As we all inch closer to adulthood, my life looks a lot like a version I never wanted. But I do want to be with Jason. I don’t think I’m willing to give him up.
I would never admit it, but I almost understand my mom more now.
It’s been a year and a half since Jason left for college, and I thought I’d use our time apart to really figure things out for myself. But instead, all I do is count down the days until he comes home for breaks from school. I get so excited for every opportunity we have to see each other that I forget to be selfish with this time to myself. He’s so busy with classes and the toll of his second season as an Aggie, but he still makes time to call me every night. It’s almost as if the distance has pushed us closer together somehow, like the way we miss each other is a living, breathing thing that yearns to be fed.
“What about what you want?” Regan asks, not unkindly.
Gus swings by to drop our pizza in the middle of the table, giving me the chance to think about how to respond. As soon as walks away, I shrug. “I don’t know, Ray. I’ve always wanted to make something of myself . . . but if Jason makes it into the NFL we could end up anywhere. It’s not like I could traipse around the country to find the next burning social issue to write about. I want to be his wife, but I want more than that, too—I’m not sure how to realistically have it all.”
Regan blows out a breath as she pulls a slice of cheesy pizza onto her small plate. “What does Jason think about it all?”
“I know he wants me to be happy, but he’s been pretty vocal about wanting to get married after college.” I take a bite of the scalding corner of my slice, having to move it around in my mouth so it doesn’t burn my tongue before I continue. “For him, it’s simple. He gets drafted, we go wherever that takes him, and we build a life and a family together while he lives out his dreams.”
Regan eyes me. “Yeah but what about your dreams, Layla? They should matter just as much as his do, right?”
I feel my defenses rising, and I hate it. I thought talking this out would somehow make me feel better, but it’s only shining a light on what I already know—I have no idea what I’m doing.
Later, when Jason calls, I still feel tense in my stomach.
“Do anything fun today?” he asks, his voice hushed like he’s talking to me from the corner of his room. I can almost see him hunched around the phone from where he sits on his twin bed, his back to Wells.
After my first trip to visit him at college went south, I spent a long time trying to navigate the newfound jealousy dynamic of our trio. I haven’t been back to College Station since then because of how nervous I became for something else to happen. I know Wells and I didn’t do anything wrong, but I still think it’s better to avoid tempting fate.
For as splintered as things felt between Jason and me after that trip, he and Wells didn’t seem to skip a beat—at least from what I could tell. Even during visits home, after spending every day together at school, they still made plenty of plans together with each other and other friends from Saddlebrook Falls. I haven’t had any direct contact with Wells in almost six months, and even though Jason says he’s over it and that he believes me about nothing happening that night, I can’t help but feel like he’s keeping Wells and I apart.
“Um . . . I went to Mustang’s Pizza with Regan and talked about college plans. But other than that it’s been a pretty uneventful day,” I laugh.
“Oh?” he asks. “Did you hear back from any of the schools?”
“No,” I shake my head, as if he can see me through the phone. “I probably won’t hear anything for a few months.”
There’s a pause from his side of the line. And then he asks, “Have you thought any more about Texas A&M?”
My stomach clenches tighter. “Jason,” I whine. “You know I want to get out of Texas.”
“I know, I know.” He blows out a breath. “I just miss you, and I’d hate to lose the opportunity for us to be together after this year.”
We’ve had this conversation a dozen times. Sometimes I wonder if he assumes I’ll give in if he asks me enough, but it’s the one thing I’m holding fast to, the one thing that ensures I’ll get to have experiences that are simply for me after I graduate in the spring. “I watched your game this morning,” I say, changing the subject.
“Well, I’d hope so!” He chuckles. “How’d I look?”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “Good, as always.”
“I miss you cheering for me from the sidelines.”
“Me too,” I admit. Friday nights aren’t the same here either, not without Jason on the field. I’ve loved cheerleading my entire life, but I’m ready to find new things to be passionate about. Thankfully, Texas A&M doesn’t have an official cheerleading team since it originated as an all-male military school. If they did, I know Jason would push extra hard for me to go there with him.
I hear Wells say something in the background, the low tone of his voice at once so familiar and yet foreign. I can’t hear what he says, but whatever it is prompts Jason to end our conversation. “All right babe, I gotta go get some things done over here. But I love you and I miss you—let’s talk again tomorrow, yeah?”
My eyes find the digital clock on my nightstand, and I wonder what kinds of things he needs to get done at eight o’clock on a Saturday night. I would bet money that he’s going to a party after the Aggies’ win this morning—I’m not sure why he wouldn’t just tell me. “Be safe,” I say back, and then the phone disconnects.
Letting out a quick exhale, I plug my phone into the charger on my nightstand and pull my camera from where it lies on my dresser. Settling back in bed against my pillows, I put in an old memory card from two years ago and scroll through pictures of Jason and Wells at the ranch, of Ghost and Champ and Lady in different corrals, even a handful of shots of little Lucky before he was adopted. My heart begins to ache as I lose myself in the memories of a much simpler time, when it felt like I had everything I could ever want.
I know deep down that if I’m not careful about my choices this year, I may lose any chance of feeling as free and confident as I did back then, as the girl who was headstrong and brave about the things she wanted for her life. I think about Regan’s words earlier and know she’s right, that my dreams are just as important as anyone else's. I just hope I don’t lose Jason in the process of finding my own way.