Chapter 31: Chapter 31

AMY

An electric hum of anticipation sizzles through my veins as I sit close to Serena in the stands, and she squeezes my hand. My heart’s a staccato drumline against my ribs.

Any minute now, Tristan will make his appearance and his speech.

It’s all I’ve been able to think about. Ideas of what he might say this evening were woven into my dreams last night. I couldn’t remember the words, but their lingering impact on my emotions has made one thing starkly clear.

I want him to tell me he loves me because I love ~him~.

The last twenty-four hours wiped out all my denial. I’ve loved him for weeks. Since that one-on-one date when he delivered his “fake” confession and told me he’s wanted me desperately for years. That he hid his feelings because I was cold to him. Could it have been true?

A cold hand grips my heart. I could be deluding myself because I’m so desperate for him to return my feelings. I’m almost certain he wants me, but is it enough? As experienced as he is, he might tire of me in a matter of days. My heart would shatter again before it even had the chance to heal.

It’s worth it, though. I’ve had my heart broken twice in my life, and I lived through it both times.

Maybe I’ve lived more fully because of it.

Eight girls stand in a line on the field wearing their fancy homecoming dresses. Though it’s difficult to read their expressions from this distance, there’s a languorous aura hanging over the group.

The rumors that Tristan is picking me despite my recent withdrawal from the competition have probably circulated. The film crew often drops hints on their social media to generate buzz.

I doubt Tristan has changed his mind about giving me that scholarship. He didn’t seem the slightest bit moved by my request to give it to someone more deserving.

The thought of knocking ten thousand dollars off my student loans ought to make me euphoric, but I’m too consumed by the real prize of this competition.

Tristan.

He’s worth so much more than a ten K scholarship. His worth is infinite.

My heart flutters when Tristan’s tall form emerges. He walks up the stands, and his eyes lock on mine, but his expression is hard to read.

Is he nervous? He’s used to public speaking, and he’s always so calm, almost bored. I’ve envied his ease in large groups of people.

When he makes it to our bleacher row, the people on our right scoot away. He walks on the narrow plank and crouches down next to me.

“Hey, my Amelia.” His voice is soft, almost lost in the cacophony of the stadium. Those bright-blue eyes are warm and inviting. “Would you mind coming to sit in the front row? I saved a spot just for you.”

The request, simple and unassuming, catches me off guard. When I glance at his chest, his breathing is rapid. Damn, he really is nervous. A flicker of affection warms me.

“Sure,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Can Serena come too?”

“Of course she can.” His smile is so beautiful, and I have to assume my ready assent has calmed his nerves.

What will his face look like tonight when I tell him my true feelings? I won’t hold anything back, even if the thought of scaring him away with an I love you makes my skin vibrate with anxiety.

He deserves the full truth after weeks of my cowardice and petty games.

I’m choosing to be brave, even when the teenage girl within me screams at me to guard my wounded heart.

I won’t listen to her.

The three of us move slowly down the stands. Tristan’s shoulder brushes mine occasionally, but his hands stay at his side. He typically touches me whenever we’re close, and I miss his warmth.

There’s a strange solemnity to his movements, and an intensity that makes the air between us spark. When we reach the front row, he stops and turns toward me. His gaze is probing, and a ripple of nerves dances down my spine.

“You asked me to give the scholarship to someone else,” he says.

My gaze falls to the slab of metal under my feet. “Yes.”

“I didn’t consider it for a second. I hope you’re not mad.”

My stomach flips over, and I can’t help but smile when I meet his eyes. His expression is so tender, I could kiss him now.

“Is it okay if I approach you when I pick you as my winner?” he asks, looking almost bashful.

“Sure,” I murmur.

“Thanks. I hope you like my…speech.” With that, he turns around and walks toward the center of the field.

Serena leans into me. “Do you think he’s going to call you his dearest, loveliest Amelia?”

Warmth unfurls in my belly at her ~Pride and Prejudice~ quote. I’m just about to respond when someone behind me taps my shoulder. When I turn around, a pretty girl is holding her phone in the air. “Can I get a selfie with you, Amy? We watch the game episodes every week in our common room.” She gestures at the two girls next to her. “You’ve been our pick from the beginning.”

My mouth goes dry as I nod. Thank God, I have Serena here with me as a comforting presence. Even after all these weeks of being part of the game, I’m still not comfortable being in the public eye.

If Tristan cares for me too, and we start a real relationship, I’ll be in the public eye all the time. He’s practically a celebrity on this campus. The thought alone would have made me sick to my stomach weeks ago.

Not anymore.

I lean back as the girl holds her phone in the air. My smile is stiff, but I couldn’t fix it if I tried. My nerves are sizzling.

After snapping the picture, she winces. “Oh shit, I think they’re about to start.”

Sure enough, the director is approaching the mic. I swallow hard, my palms dampening.

“Tonight,” the director says, “Tristan will select the winner who will accompany him to the homecoming ball and receive a generous scholarship. Let’s give a warm round of applause for our homecoming king, Tristan Wolfe.”

The crowd breaks out into an uproar of cheers, and Serena sets her arm around my shoulder.

My throat squeezes. The moment of truth has come.

~Please love me, Tristan Wolfe. I don’t deserve it, but I want it all the same~.

TRISTAN

After taking in a deep breath, I make my way over to the mic. The stadium lights combined with the scent of the grass usually give me a visceral sense of calm.

But I’m not playing football tonight. I’m about to gamble with my heart, and I might not win.

Sure, Amy seems to have softened toward me considerably. Her little speech was so achingly vulnerable that I wanted to hold her more than anything in the world, but she never said that she cares for me. I was so hungry for the words. I had to fight the urge to reach out and shake her. ~“Tell me you want me just as much as I want you, my darling Amelia,” ~I wanted to scream.

But I can’t beg for her love. I’ll never be fully content unless she gives it to me without coercion. My fragile heart might be desperate for love, but what it needs most is her trust.

“Thank you,” I say. My voice is unsteady, but few people likely heard since the mic stand reaches my stomach.

They will hear me in a moment.

Fuck, this is uncomfortable. I’m never nervous when I speak publicly. I usually wear my mask. I smirk and make snarky comments and pretend like my whole college life is a game that I’m far too sophisticated to take seriously.

Now is my opportunity to take off the mask and lay it to rest, sharing parts of myself I’d much rather keep hidden forever. I’ve barely spoken and already my skin is hot and tingly.

As I adjust the mic stand to reach my mouth, a smattering of laughter rises from the crowd. Is my height really that damn funny? No. Their laughter reveals their expectations. They think I’m going to entertain them tonight.

I will entertain them. At my own expense.

“I have a story to tell you,” I say, “so bear with me, because I’m not a wordsmith.”

The stadium grows almost unbearably silent.

Here it goes.

“Growing up, I was an only child,” I say. “It was really…lonely.”

~Lonely~. It’s a common word, so why does it make my skin crawl? This tiny admission makes me want to shut my eyes like a child pretending the whole world disappears into the darkness of my eyelids.

There’s one person who can make me feel grounded right now, and I need to see her face.

I pull the mic from the stand and start walking in Amy’s direction. The crowd rumbles, but I try to ignore it.

~I’ll speak to her. Only her.~

Her face comes into full view. Those big hazel eyes are riveted on me, and my heart flutters just like it did during our first conversation six years ago. Like it always does whenever I’m around her.

“I had lots of friends,” I say, “but I didn’t have any deep connections with people. I was afraid…”

The word closes my throat. I take a deep breath, and Amy nods once, as if asking me to keep going.

I can do this for her.

“I didn’t like sharing my feelings with anyone. I thought they made me weak.” I laugh humorlessly. “To be honest, I hate that I’m sharing right now. This is really hard for me.”

Murmurs run through the crowd. Anyone who thought this was a buildup to a big joke is probably looking around with wide eyes. People might even be cringing on my behalf.

It’s okay. This is all for her.

“I wouldn’t be saying any of this if not for you, Amelia Harrington. I learned the danger of hiding my real feelings. I’ve been hiding them for six years.”

Her eyes widen minutely, and that wasn’t even the crux of what I have to say. What will she think about what I say next?

“I love you, Amy.”

Gasps break out across the stadium, but I keep my gaze fixed on her. Her eyelids look a bit heavy, as if she’s dazed.

“I always have. Since the first day I talked to you. In fact…” I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. “I followed you here to college.”

Amy’s doe eyes grow impossibly large.

My forced smile feels like more of a grimace. “It’s true. My parents pushed me to go to UCLA. I almost always took their advice back then, but I couldn’t… I refused to let you go.”

My pulse picks up, and my palms are cold and damp.

“I tried to convince myself that what I feel for you isn’t really love, because I didn’t want to believe it. It’s so hard to admit that your heart is in the hands of someone else, someone who can hurt you.”

Her eyes meet mine, and they’re so full of melancholy that I want to walk over there and touch her. She feels guilty for hurting me, but it was never her fault.

“It was so worth it, Amy. Even though it hurt that you ignored me in high school, it was worth it. Because these last few weeks have been the happiest of my life. And even if you don’t—” my voice catches “—if you never love me like I love you, I wouldn’t trade this time I’ve had with you for anything.”

Holy shit, are her eyes glistening? I rush over to her, and sure enough, a tear runs down her cheek. I fall to my knees. After reaching out and grabbing her hand, I press a soft kiss against her wrist.

“I’ve never felt more connected to another person in my whole life.” My voice is shaky. “I’ve been wandering alone for so long, but when I’m with you, I’m home.”

Her smile is faint, but it makes my heart soar.

“You told me yesterday to think hard about what I really want. I’m sorry to tell you that I didn’t take your advice. I didn’t think about it at all. There was no point.”

Her lips twitch downward, but her eyes are full of warmth.

“My love for you isn’t conditional. Nothing you’ve done could change it. It’s lived for years in my heart. Sure, it was battered and bruised by your dislike of me, but that only made it stronger.” I smile. “It’s not going anywhere. My neglected heart will love you forever, even after you tire of me.”

When she shakes her head, tenderness grips my chest so suddenly that I nearly fall forward. I take her meaning immediately.

~“I could never tire of you.”~

~“Amelia Harrington,” I say, “you brought me to life six years ago, and I’ll love you forever for it.”

I’m startled when Amy grabs me by the face and presses a hard kiss against my mouth. The crowd erupts in cheers, and she pulls away, lowers her gaze, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Tears rise to my eyes. My girl is self-conscious. Even a quick public kiss took courage.

“I love you,” I whisper with the mic pulled away. She doesn’t say it back, but she smiles so wide that my heart threatens to explode.

I bring the mic closer to my mouth. “For this reason, there’s only one person I can pick tonight. She’s been my pick from the very beginning. If I could have chosen her last year or the year before, I would have. It doesn’t matter if she’s part of the game or not. Amelia Harrington holds my heart in her hands.”

The roaring of the crowd is deafening. The director grins as he approaches me and takes the mic. He starts talking to the crowd, but all the voices fade away as my gaze fixes on Amy.

Oh God, I could die of happiness. I think she really heard me. I think she understands.