Read Online The Season of Shay and Dane by Lucy Lacefield - Free Book Online Page B

.
    Tears fill my eyes
again as my emotions overtake me. Be calm, think. I have about one
minute before he gets here to gather myself. Maybe he wasn’t intending to
see me; it’s past 7:00.
    Think.
    I’m shaken. For the
first time I have to decide between. . .  exposing me . . . a little of
what I’m feeling by just being here. . .  or succumbing to my fears and fleeing.
I risk being rejected. . . I know this, that’s part of it. . . I’ve never known
this nervousness that’s tormenting me with each second that passes. If I do
rush inside, and he did want me here, he’ll think I’m avoiding him.
    Stay placed. . . stay
placed . . .
     
     
    dane
    Look up. . .
    See me.
    I move a little faster
weaving through people.
    About fifty more feet— don’t
go inside.
    That goddamned paper
for my first class! I couldn’t get out the door right when I
wanted to.
    Her back’s turned
now—she hasn’t seen me yet.
    . . . Twenty feet .
. .
    “Shay,” I say quietly not to startle her. She turns around. “ Oh. . . hey. . . what’s
wrong? ” I see what’s wrong—she didn’t think I was coming. She wanted to be
here just as much as I did. I want to bring her close to me and hold her in my arms. “Would you want to go for a walk?”
    “Yes.”
    I place my hand in the
small of her back, guiding us through people until we get to a place less congested
on the sidewalk; she doesn’t resist.
    “I’m sorry to keep you
waiting.” I can see from the side her face lightening and
there’s no need for explanation from either of us.
    We walk in silence for
a couple of minutes.
    “Have you ever been to
a Yale track meet?” I ask now that I’ve steadied my mind.
    “I haven’t. . .”
    “Would you be
interested in coming to one—this Saturday, well, part of one. The events last
most of the day, but my heats are in the early
afternoon?” I offer. Knowing what I just did spontaneously and maybe too
soon. It doesn’t have to be a real first date, just an outing — school
outing, in some sort—not putting pressure on her.   I thought about
it late last night. Coach Malloy will be there; he’ll have one of my two
athlete’s passes, and I’d sure like her to have the other one. “It’s against
Harvard.” I don’t know why I said that, or why it would make a difference.
It’s just now that I’ve asked her, her quietness makes me nervous.
    “Yes, I know. . . I’ll
come.”
    “Good.” I want to reach for her hand and turn her to me and tell her how I can’t get
her out of my mind these last days, and how happy I feel just being near her. “ Maybe
tomorrow morning we can talk about where to meet at the stadium and the time. .
. if that’s okay with you? ” I see her lips form a small smile.
    “Sure, that’s alright.
. . I’d like that.”
    “Same time. . . 7:05?” I suggest somewhat playfully, trying still to calm her from the nerves we both
felt earlier.
    “7:05,” she agrees, smiling forward as we continue our walk.

14
     
     
    shay
    I stop by my apartment
on my way up to Jenny’s. I told her not to make anything for herself for
supper, when I asked if she wouldn’t mind some company later on.
    The aroma of the small
roast and vegetables that I turned on in the crock pot before I left this
morning, makes my stomach growl. I grab an oven mitt from the drawer and slowly
lift the lid, checking it. Just right. I unplug the cord and take out another
oven mitt so I can get it upstairs.
    Before I go I want to
change into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I hurry getting ready, knowing we’re
both starving. Lunch came early today when Professor Richards decided we all
needed to meet on his lunch hour at 12:00 in his office. I don’t think anyone
is too comfortable with the thought of breaking bread in his company. So when
word got around, we were scrambling to force down any lunch that we could.
    Sorted. I grab the crock pot and head out, steadying it with one hand underneath as I
reach and shut the door to lock