Page 40 of I Would Stay Forever (Parkhurst Prep #2)

twenty-six

I sat down next to Zoey and Paige as they stretched on the gym floor.

Volleyball practice hadn’t officially started yet, so everyone was either stretching or gossiping, except for Molly who was talking to Coach Cassidy across the gym.

Zoey was telling Paige about the new guy who had switched into her bio class today, but as soon as I sat down, she turned her eyes on me.

“Where did you go on Sunday?” she asked.

Somehow, I’d completely forgotten that I hadn’t told her.

She was out of school sick yesterday and my day had been busy enough that I hadn’t seen Molly or Paige at all.

I was surprised none of them had texted me to ask about it, but then I realized they very well might have and I’d completely missed it.

I felt like my head hadn’t been screwed on right since the moment I saw Dad on Sunday, and it had been worsened by finding out about Sebastian and Tiffany yesterday.

He and I hadn’t spoken last night, and I got the feeling we were falling back into the old pattern we’d been in for all of August. I was exhausted just at the thought of it.

“Imogen got in a small accident,” I explained as I leaned forward in a hip stretch. “She needed me to come get her from Urgent Care.”

Zoey gasped. “Oh my gosh, is she okay?”

“I saw her yesterday,” Paige added. “She didn’t seem too hurt.”

I nodded. “Yeah, she just broke her wrist and got all scraped up. She was really freaked though.”

“Of course she was,” Zoey said earnestly. “Was your mom not working, though? Why did she call you?”

I froze, unsure how to respond. Of course Zoey would assume that Imogen was at North Glen Hospital where Mum worked.

If Imogen had been there, she would have asked them to find Mum for her rather than calling me in a panic.

I could lie and say Mum was busy, but I’d learned long ago that even little white lies tended to spiral out of control quickly.

Besides, I had enough secrets in my life right now—hiding Dean’s involvement of Dad deciding to come clean about the affair, hiding the affair completely from my friends, and hiding how much time I was spending with Dean from Sebastian.

It wasn’t worth trying to keep this one to myself.

“She was at Trinity Hospital,” I explained. “You know, the one over on the other side of Crofton?”

Zoey’s brows knit together. “What would she be doing over there?”

I sighed and deepened my stretch as I mumbled, “Dunno.”

She was visibly curious, but I tried to keep my expression neutral so she wouldn’t think I was holding out on her.

Zoey loved gossip, and if she got it in her head that there was a story I was hiding from her, she would try to pry it out of me.

I could only imagine the theories running through her head right now—the most likely of which being Imogen having a secret boyfriend, I was sure.

It was just as well, though. She had no reason to suspect it had anything to do with my dad.

Coach Cassidy blew her whistle, calling for us to get ready.

We all stood and went to line up by the black lines that ran along the border of the gym.

I tightened my ponytail as Coach Cassidy ran us through the exercises we would be doing for warm-ups, starting off with high knees to the net and back.

“Why is it always high knees?” Zoey muttered beside me as we started. “Why not low knees? That seems much more fun.”

“Don’t talk,” Molly said. I jolted in surprise, not having heard her come up beside us. I guess Paige hadn’t either because she tripped over her own feet and shrieked, catching herself just before she wiped out into Zoey.

“Graceful,” Zoey said.

“Shut up.”

“Both of you shut up,” Molly hissed. “Coach is in a terrible mood today. You’ll make her add burpees.”

She wasn’t kidding about her being in a bad mood.

By the time warm-ups finished, my legs were already sore and we hadn’t even touched a ball yet.

When we started actually playing, it was obvious that everyone on the team had picked up on the mood and didn’t want to be the slacker.

The practice was brutal, but I pushed through and tried not to think about anything— not Dean, not the university pamphlets still folded in my backpack, and definitely not my family.

Play after play, we fell into rhythm. Sweaty, breathless rhythm.

We called for passes. We shouted names. We cursed when we missed and high-fived when we didn’t.

By the time Coach called for a water break, I’d snapped four hair elastics, Molly had accidentally hit Paige straight in the face with a ball, and Zoey swore her right ankle would never be the same.

The three freshmen girls looked terrified, like they thought this was what practice would be like from now on, but Molly promised them this would probably be a one-off—although I noticed her looking around carefully like she didn’t want to risk Coach Cassidy overhearing and deciding to push us even harder.

I was practically stumbling as I made my way over to the first of the bleachers where my water bottle was resting beside my bag. I was mid-gulp when I realized the bleachers weren’t empty.

Dean’s hair was wet and he was sporting a Parkhurst Prep Football jumper with the sleeves rolled up.

His football practice must have let out earlier than ours did, but that didn’t explain what he was doing here.

I hadn’t noticed him walk in, although I supposed people were going in and out enough during practice that I wouldn’t have paid any attention to the gym door opening.

As my gaze landed on him, I expected him to sense me and look up, but he didn’t. He had his textbook and a paper open on one knee like he was doing homework, though I noticed that even though his eyes were trained down, he was just tapping his pencil against the page and not writing any notes.

“What the heck?” I muttered.

Zoey spun around and followed my gaze, grinning against her water bottle as she spotted Dean.

Of course she would think this was a good thing.

She’d called to grill me for details on Saturday after I’d sat with Dean at the party on Friday night, refusing to accept that we’d just chatted for a little bit and nothing else happened.

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” she said.

“I didn’t invite him,” I was quick to tell her.

I didn’t want her to take this as confirmation that Dean and I were secretly dating.

She was already sure of it, and all she needed now was for one of us to tell her it was true.

If only she knew what else we had done this week.

I hadn’t told her about Dean running after me yesterday, about the way he made me promise to stay, about that pinky promise and the way I kissed our hands.

As if he was really my boyfriend. As if that was a normal thing to do with your brother’s best friend.

If Zoey knew, she’d probably say that we’re basically married by now.

“Looks like you don’t have to anymore.” She winked at me and spun on her heel, walking over to Molly and Paige a couple feet away.

Dean finally looked up, right on cue, and met my eyes across the gym with that obnoxious smirk.

He gave the world’s smallest wave as if he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.

I glanced around quickly, wondering if anybody else had noticed he was here.

With Coach Cassidy being in a bad mood, I wasn’t sure that she’d be too open to us having visitors.

But it was as if Dean was invisible to everyone but me—and Zoey—because nobody else was even glancing his way.

“Oh my god,” Zoey whispered. She’d sidled back up to me, with Paige and Molly as reinforcements. “He’s watching you. Like, just you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“Stop looking.”

“You stop looking.”

I swatted her with my towel, but my ears burned anyway.

Coach called us back in a moment later, and I focused hard on ignoring the person-shaped distraction in the bleachers.

For the next few plays, it was easy. We were running quicks through the middle, and my timing was off—my approaches too fast or too slow.

Molly whispered, “Focus,” after I almost collided with her mid-jump.

In the end, I didn’t improve much but I also didn’t grievously injure anybody, which was enough of a win for me.

Practice disbanded in a wave of groaning, shuffling, and slurping from water bottles.

I collapsed onto the first row of bleachers and chugged water.

Normally, I would have moved into the locker room right away, but I had a feeling a certain boy would be coming down to talk to me momentarily and I didn’t want him to think I was ignoring him completely.

When he didn’t appear right away, I realized that I didn’t actually know that he was here for me.

Was it egotistical of me to assume that was why?

Maybe he just had an interest in women’s volleyball or he needed to talk to Coach or?—

Dean’s textbook landed on the gym bag by my feet and a moment later, he was crouched down in front of me.

“Don’t have the energy to get changed?” he asked.

“Figured I should see why you came by to annoy me first.” I raised my eyebrows. “So what did you think?”

“I think the lot of you could take on an entire country in war and win.”

I snorted. “Well, I’m sure the other girls will be thrilled to hear such a high compliment from a football player. Did your practice get out early?”

“We don’t go as long on Tuesdays,” he said with a shrug. “Figured I’d come see what all the fuss was about.”

I wasn’t sure it ever would have occurred to me to go watch his football practices, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me—or about him.

That he’d decided to spend his free time here with me instead of going home or waiting around for Sebastian.

Just the thought of my brother now made a knot twist in my chest, both because of our argument and because of what Dean being here meant.

Sebastian sometimes came by after my volleyball practices.

He wasn’t likely to now, not with me giving him the cold shoulder and him being back with Tiffany who liked to use up all his time and attention.

Had Dean thought about that at all? We still hadn’t told Sebastian about our project, which meant we didn’t even have that excuse to fall back on.

A week ago, that hadn’t seemed like a big deal since Dean and I hardly ever saw each other outside of studying, but if he was going to be showing up out of the blue like this, we needed to talk about it.

“Where does my brother think you are right now?” I asked.

Dean’s grin faltered at the question. “Why does it matter?”

That was enough for me to know that Sebastian didn’t know Dean was here and Dean knew why he shouldn’t be. I glanced around the now almost-empty gym and jumped to my feet.

“If anyone sees us here like this?—”

“They’ll what?” Dean asked, also getting to his feet. He leaned in to whisper mockingly. “Tell Sebastian we’re hanging out?”

I glared at him. “It’s not funny and you know it.”

Dean sighed and dropped his chin. “I know. I’m just getting sick of sneaking around so he doesn’t see.”

“You’re the one who said he would have a problem.”

“It’s not like you disagreed.”

I sighed and glanced away. He was right, of course. I was the one who’d started this argument in the first place. But I’d also meant it when I told him that I wouldn’t let Sebastian rule my life, and I felt especially strong about that now that he and I were barely speaking anyway.

“I don’t want to feel like we have to hide,” I whispered.

I felt so overdramatic saying it. What was there even to hide?

A friendship? I was acting like Dean and I were together, the way that Zoey kept insinuating.

Maybe this was my heart trying to make itself known, reminding me that I did want Dean to be more than a friend.

But if we couldn’t even meet up as friends, how could we possibly ever date?

Dean brushed his fingers under my chin then tilted my head up to face him. Shivers ran up and down my spine as I looked into his deep blue eyes.

“Then we don’t hide,” he murmured. My heart pounded, wild and unsteady, so loud it felt like he could hear it too.

His lips brushed against mine, so soft and sweet that I thought might die, and something fluttered deep inside me.

His hand slid to the side of my face, fingers slipping into my hair, and I leaned into him as his mouth moved against mine.

He was being so gentle, like he was asking permission with every breath.

And I gave in without a second thought. I pressed closer, my hands finding the edge of his shirt, the fabric soft beneath my fingertips, grounding me even as everything else spun.

He tasted like cinnamon gum and he smelled like the sea, just like he had that night at the party.

He tilted his head slightly, and our mouths fit together more naturally—deeper, warmer.

His other hand found my waist, firm but careful, holding me like I might slip away.

The heat between us was immediate, unmistakable, like every moment we’d had together dialed up to one hundred.

Every shift, every breath, every small movement sent a new rush of adrenaline through me.

He pulled back for a breath, but before I could even begin to process what had just happened, he kissed me again.

My knees went weak and I fell into his body, so solid and real in front of me, so unlike the daydreams I’d had.

The scent of his skin—clean, like soap and sweat from practice—filled my nose, anchoring me in the moment.

His hand slipped from my waist to the small of my back, and I felt the pressure of it even through the thin fabric of my shirt. My pulse jumped. I answered the kiss with more certainty, tilting up onto my toes to meet him, not wanting to give him a reason to pull away.

He didn’t. He only pulled me in closer.

There was nothing rushed about it—just the slow build of everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t let ourselves feel until now. And here, hidden in plain sight, it was finally happening.

Him and me.

And it was everything.