“Maybe it’s for the best,” I think as I sit down across from him. “I don’t deserve him if I’m going to do this to him. He’s better off without me if I’m heartless enough to hurt him like this.”
Our server comes by with the usual basket of steaming-hot washcloths and then disappears again. A memory bursts to life of Owen draping one over his head and my mood sinks even deeper.
“Maybe I can just call Verta and decline,” I think. “I can tell them it’s all a big mistake.”
No... I can’t do that now. I rejected Cornell’s offer already. If I decline Verta, there’s no guarantee that Cornell will let me in anymore.
I already made my decision. I have to face the consequences now.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” asks Owen, his beautiful smile stabbing me in the heart over and over again. Why did I do this? I don’t want a long-distance relationship. I want to be with him right now. Always. Forever.
I don’t get even a single word out before I start crying. I bury my head in my arms on the table, sobbing inconsolably as guilt overwhelms me. I don’t want to hurt him like this. I don’t want to be apart from him. I want to rewind, to go back and rip that offer letter in half, instead of telling him what I did.
The table vibrates as he pulls his chair back and hurries around to my side of the table. I feel his arms close around me as he tries to comfort me, but it only makes me worse. He loves me so much and I’m about to rip his heart out.
“Owen, I did something terrible,” I sob as he holds me and runs his fingers through my hair. His touch is usually so soothing to me, but today it hurts instead. His hands leave a cold ache behind them as he massages my shoulders, and my heart feels as if it’s being crushed inside my chest.
“I’m listening,” he whispers in my ear. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”
No it isn’t. He’s only saying that because he doesn’t know yet.
“Remember that interview in Boston?” I whimper, not looking up at him. I know if I look up, I’m going to burst into tears again. I can’t bear to look into his eyes and see my guilt reflected in them.
“Yeah?”
“I accepted it. I’m moving to Boston,” I confess, and I start crying again as I wait for his reaction. I don’t want to stay and see it, but I have to. I want to get up from the table and run for the door so I don’t have to see the betrayed look on his face, but if I’m going to hurt him like this, I deserve to be hurt too.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasp between sobs. “I’m so sorry I’m doing this to you.”
Owen stays perfectly silent and keeps running his fingers softly through my hair. Is he stunned? Still processing what I said?
“Maria... look at me, please,” he whispers. I can barely see him through my tears, but I look up anyway.
He’s holding a large white envelope in his right hand, all the while gently massaging my scalp with his left. I wipe the tears from my eyes and finally manage to focus on the envelope’s red lettering.
Harvard University – Department of Statistics.
Harvard is in Boston. Does that... does he mean...
“I’ll be right there with you,” he whispers, and my brain trips over itself.
Suddenly I’m out of my chair and leaping into his arms, knocking him to the floor of the restaurant as I kiss him. This can’t be real. When did he apply to Harvard? Why didn’t he tell me? Did I die and go to Heaven? Is this a cruel trick he’s playing on me for revenge? So many emotions are racing around inside me that all I can do is kiss him over and over again as joy pours out of me. I’ve never felt so relieved in my life!
I don’t even realize that we’re still on the floor of the restaurant until I open my eyes and see the elderly proprietor’s heels near our heads. I look up at her in embarrassment, my face a new and still unnamed shade of deep red, and she smiles knowingly down at me.
“See? I tell you it look like a date and I was right,” she says with satisfied conviction. I still don’t believe that’s her real accent.
I help Owen up and then we sheepishly return to our seats as the old woman watches us in delight.
“You ready to order?” she asks.
Last time, it only felt like we ordered everything on the menu. This time, we do.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Owen as our server departs. “If I’d known...”
“That’s the thing,” he says, interrupting me. “I just knew you were going to get both offers, and I wanted you to pick what was best for you, not for me. If I told you I’d been accepted into Harvard and you picked the job offer, I’d always wonder if you’d really picked it to make yourself happy or if you... well, if you picked it for me.”
We’d be on the floor again right now if there wasn’t a table in the way.
“Tell me about Harvard! When did you find out? When did you even apply?” I fire question after question at him. This is the first I’ve heard about it, and I want to know everything now that guilt is no longer crushing me.
“Remember how Professor Meador kept promising it’d all work out? After Cornell rejected my appeal, he called up his colleague at Harvard and told him to come up to meet me.”
“Seriously? He just picked up the phone and got you into Harvard?”
“Not quite. He got me an admissions interview with the head of the theoretical statistics program after singing my praises and... well... explaining my situation and what happened with my mother.”
The first part of our excessive and celebratory order arrives: two of each of the entire sashimi menu, two dragon rolls, and complimentary sake for both of us. I can’t wait to see the bill for this. Owen slides his sake over to my side of the table and I gladly accept it. He’s not drinking anymore after what happened at the bridge, and I’m proud of him for it.
“Anyway, after he saw my grad admission scores and some of my work from this year, he pretty much offered me admission on the spot,” continues Owen, stopping to take a drink. “Well, technically he asked me if I liked to play beach volleyball—because the stats team lost to the engineers last year and he wants revenge—but I got his meaning.”
“Do you even play sports?” I ask.
“I do now,” he answers with a grin. Our second delivery of food—two of every ‘house special’ roll—arrives on a cart, and I completely lose it, burst out laughing and lay my head on the table. I’m pretty sure I’ve just blown my grocery budget for the rest of my life.
“I’m so glad you picked Boston,” says Owen, eyeing the impossibly large buffet building up around our table. “I was so certain you were going to pick Cornell that I brought the Harvard letter with me to break the news to you. I don’t want to ever be apart from you, but I couldn’t let myself sway your decision. I’m not worth that.”
“Will you stop that already?” I groan. “You mean everything to me!”
“I just mean that...”
“Owen, just shut up and kiss me, okay?”
I lean across the table and his lips meet mine in the middle. I don’t know what I did to deserve so many second chances with him, but I’m never letting him go again.
Saturday, May 18 – 11:30PM
Maria
Classes end and finals arrive so quickly that I barely have time to keep up with my test schedule, let alone anything beyond that. I’ve practically lived in the lab for the last week, and by the time I finish my exams and complete my final experiments, it’s the eighteenth of May. I graduate tomorrow and I don’t know if I should be excited or terrified.
Just thinking about seeing Darren with my family makes me queasy, but my fear runs even deeper now. I’m scared because I only just found myself and now everything is changing. I’m going to be in a new city, starting a new job and having to hold myself together through it all.
I’m scared to start over.
Owen leans over and kisses me on the cheek, making my heart skip a beat and an intimate, warm feeling spread through me. I smile, snuggle up on the blan
ket beside him and gaze up at the stars. New start or not, at least I won’t be alone this time.
Cornell’s end of the year party was only a few days ago and the west campus slope is still trashed from it, but because of the messiness, Owen and I are the only ones out here tonight. We’re alone on the hill with our blanket and there’s nobody else here to spoil it for us. The sky is beautiful and clear tonight with more stars than I’ve ever seen before. Back in New Jersey, the lights of the city blocked out the stars and painted the sky an ugly, reddish-gray. How did I never once, in my four years of college, stop and look up at the stars like this? I’ve let myself miss out on so much in the years since Darren hurt me, and it’s about time I let myself experience them.
“Your last final was today, right?” I ask Owen, lacing my fingers through his as we lay together on the blanket. “Are you done grading tests yet?”
“Yep. Grading’s done too. You have any more tests?” he answers quietly, staring up into the night sky.
“I’m done for the year. Any idea how I did on the Stats 440 final?”
“Sorry, no clue. I graded the midterm exams, so Liz gets to do the finals.”
We drift into silence again and cuddle up to each other in the cool, spring breeze. It’s such a beautiful night.
“Therapy’s going well,” I whisper. “I really like my counselor.”
“Me too,” he answers. “Still going twice a week?”
I nod and squeeze his hand. I missed my last session because of an exam, but we’re rescheduling it to next week to make up for it.
“Same here. I... I like it. I feel so much better after each session,” he tells me. Something about his voice almost sounds remorseful, as if he’s confessing something terrible to me. I kiss him on the cheek and lay my head on his chest, hoping to comfort him.
“I’m glad you like it,” I tell him. “It’s okay to feel good about yourself, you know.”
“It’s just hard to get used to it. I feel guilty, though, like feeling better about what happened makes it less meaningful or something. I don’t understand it.”
“It’ll get better,” I promise. “I know it will.”
“Um... anything you want to talk about?” he asks nervously. I wish he didn’t feel so anxious about bringing up my counseling. We’ve been talking about it almost every night, and I’m doing okay so far. I want him to know that I’m getting better—that he’s a huge part of why I’m getting better, too. I’d never have gone to therapy if I hadn’t seen how badly we needed help back on the bridge.
“Not really,” I answer, scooting even closer to him. “It’s going pretty well so far, I think. Corinne is really easy to talk to.”
“It’s the same with Angela for me,” says Owen. “I have no idea how to explain how talking to her feels, but it just works.”
“That’s exactly it. It just works somehow,” I say. “Something about the way Corinne listens to me makes it so easy to open up to her. She knows just how far to push, where the limits are... she’s just great to talk to.”
“I’m glad you like her,” whispers Owen, and he kisses me softly on the cheek.
Talking about my counseling reminds me of what’s coming tomorrow, though, and a dull, aching dread comes to life inside me. Tomorrow is graduation—tomorrow, I have to see Darren again.
“I’m scared of graduation,” I whisper to Owen as a lump forms in my throat. “I don’t know how I’m going to react to him, even with therapy. I’m scared I’m going to break down in front of him.”
Owen rolls over so that he’s above me, looking down and bracing himself with his arms on either side of my head. The last time we were like this, I panicked and punched him in the face.
“Maria... you’ll be okay,” he tells me, trapping my eyes with his and drawing me into them. “Tina’s plan is ridiculous, but I promise you I won’t let anything happen. If I can stand up to my father for hurting you, I can stand up to Darren. I promise you’ll be safe tomorrow.”
I lean up and press my lips to his, and then I pull him down against me. Tasting him. Sharing myself. Silently thanking him for protecting me. The cool night air makes Owen’s skin feel burning hot against mine as he lies beside me and embraces me. We sink together into the warm comfort of the blanket, entwined safely in each other’s arms as our kiss runs deeper and deeper. The heat of his body against me blocks out the chill of the ground and the cold dew soaking into our blanket. My fears don’t matter when I’m with him. I’m protected. Safe.
Owen is right—when we’re together, not even Darren can hurt me.
“I can do this,” I breathlessly tell Owen when I finally break free of the glorious kiss and gasp for air. “He can’t hurt me when I’m with you.”
“Then he’ll never hurt you again,” he whispers back to me, caressing my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever, Maria.”
I lean in and press my lips to his once more, and then I snuggle up against him and look happily up at the stars.
I can’t imagine being without him, and forever isn’t long enough for me.
Sunday, May 19 – 10:15 AM
Owen
An enormous crowd of parents swarms into the arts quad, jostling, shoving, and all but climbing over each other in an effort to see their graduating children. Not that they’re children anymore—they’re all in their twenties now. I know better than to get caught up in the throng and instead hang out in the back, leaning against a tree with my arms crossed and Maria’s camera slung around my neck. I don’t need to be up at the front to know what’s happening—I’ve already done this once. Right now, the graduation-day organizers are trying futilely to herd the students into groups based on their majors. It never works; the students just wait until nobody’s looking and then go find their friends before the procession to the football stadium where the ceremony is held.
Maria got some really good weather this year. It rained all day back when I graduated, but today’s weather is beautiful and sunny. Parents start to cheer and applaud, and I know it’s time for me to start moving. The procession down to the field has started.
I follow the procession from outside the crowd of waving parents and feel a brief pang of jealousy. It must be nice to have parents come to your graduation. No, that’s not quite it... it must be nice to have parents you want to come to your graduation. I never told mine about graduation when I finished my bachelor’s degree and they never once asked.
I know exactly how to find Maria in the sea of black robes. Everyone walks with their friends, rules be damned, and Tina sticks out like a sore thumb. I don’t know how she got a pink graduation cap past the organizers, but I’m grateful beyond words. I can see her coming from a mile away in that thing. Maria’s walking beside her, looking both excited and scared. I felt the same way when it was my turn to walk two years ago.
Tina catches sight of me through the crowd, elbows Maria to get her attention and points at me. Maria waves to me with a smile that gives me goose bumps. Somehow, she does what nobody else on earth can do: look good in a graduation robe. On most people, it’s like wearing a black contractor bag, but the way it flows on the breeze around her figure is downright seductive, almost mysterious to me. Combined with her pale skin, it makes her green eyes stand out so piercingly that I can see the color from all the way over here. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by a goddamned graduation robe.
“Pay attention. You have work to do,” I remind myself. “Find her brother. Find Darren.”
I hurry past the slow, relentless wave of graduates, cut through the crowd and duck under the rope while the organizers aren’t looking. Before anyone notices me, I’m across the path of the procession and into the stadium through the student entrance. I flash my ticket to the organizers—a spare that Maria ordered along with her family’s tickets—and I hunt for her parents in the stands. I don’t see them anywhere, but I recognize Maria’s brother Micah the moment I see him. The two of them look
damned near identical. He’s in his mid- to late-twenties, tall and thin, and has Maria’s green eyes. I climb up to his row, wriggle past the seated spectators and then plop down on the bench next to him.
Sitting beside Micah is a short, curly-haired man with a squashed nose and an ear stud, and I stare at him in surprise. Never in a million years would I have imagined Darren to look like that. He looks harmless. Completely harmless. So harmless, in fact, that it’s setting off alarms in my head.
“Hey, look Jared! There’s Maria! She’s next to the girl with the pink hat,” exclaims her brother, pointing to her out on the football field.
I tense up in shock as my brain processes Micah’s words. The guy looks harmless because he is harmless. He’s not Darren. Something’s changed and I’m completely lost now. Where’s Darren? What the hell’s going on? I scoot along the bench until I’m next to Micah, and I wait for the first opening in his conversation to introduce myself.
“Hey, you’re Maria’s brother, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m Micah,” he answers, eyeing me warily. “And you are?”
“Owen Maxwell,” I answer and then quietly add, “I’m Maria’s boyfriend.”
He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge bees from his ears. It’s one of the oddest reactions I’ve ever seen.
“Wait... my sister has a boyfriend?” he whispers, leaning in close. “When the fuck did that happen?”
“It’s a really long story,” I answer. Maria is an open book to me, but I can’t read her brother whatsoever. The way he’s staring at me, my best guess is that he either thinks he’s just won the lottery or that I’m here to steal his soul.
“Awesome to meet you, Owen,” says Micah, enthusiastically shaking my hand once more. “Hey Jared, did you know that...”
“Wait, not yet,” I hiss, interrupting him and yanking his attention back to me. “Listen to me first.”
He stares at me with irritating, wide-eyed insincerity as if he’s mocking me. I want to throttle him and scream at him to take me seriously, but instead I take a deep breath and address him in a calm, low voice.
Found (Lost and Found #2, New Adult Romance) (Lost & Found) Page 19
