“
I awake with a start, shaking the cobwebs of sleep from my mind. It’s pitch-dark out, the wind howling. It takes a couple seconds to get my bearings, to realize I’m in my parents’ bed, Ryder beside me, on his side, facing me. Our hands are still joined, though our fingers are slack now.
“Hey, you,” he says sleepily. “That one was loud, huh?”
“What was?”
“Thunder. Rattled the windows pretty bad.”
“What time is it?”
“Middle of the night, I’d say.”
I could check my phone, but that would require sitting up and letting go of his hand. Right now, I don’t want to do that. I’m too comfortable. “Have you gotten any sleep at all?” I ask him, my mouth dry and cottony.
“I think I drifted off for a little bit. Till…you know…the thunder started up again.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It should calm down some when the eye moves through.”
“If there’s still an eye by the time it gets here. The center of circulation usually starts breaking up once it goes inland.” Yeah, all those hours watching the Weather Channel occasionally come in handy.
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Wow, maybe you should consider studying meteorology. You know, if the whole film-school thing doesn’t work out for you.”
“I could double major,” I shoot back.
“I bet you could.”
“What are you going to study?” I ask, curious now. “I mean, besides football. You’ve got to major in something, don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer right away. I wonder what’s going through his head--why he’s hesitating.
“Astrophysics,” he says at last.
“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me…”
“I’m serious. Astrophysics for undergrad. And then maybe…astronomy.”
“What, you mean in graduate school?”
He just nods.
“You’re serious? You’re going to major in something that tough? I mean, most football players major in something like phys ed or underwater basket weaving, don’t they?”
“Greg McElroy majored in business marketing,” he says with a shrug, ignoring my jab.
“Yeah, but…astrophysics? What’s the point, if you’re just going to play pro football after you graduate anyway?”
“Who says I want to play pro football?” he asks, releasing my hand.
“Are you kidding me?” I sit up, staring at him in disbelief. He’s the best quarterback in the state of Mississippi. I mean, football is what he does…It’s his life. Why wouldn’t he play pro ball?
He rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head. “Right, I’m just some dumb jock.”
“Oh, please. Everyone knows you’re the smartest kid in our class. You always have been. I’d give anything for it to come as easily to me as it does to you.”
He sits up abruptly, facing me. “You think it’s easy for me? I work my ass off. You have no idea what I’m working toward. Or what I’m up against,” he adds, shaking his head.
“Probably not,” I concede. “Anyway, if anyone can major in astrophysics and play SEC ball at the same time, you can. But you might want to lose the attitude.”
He drops his head into his hands. “I’m sorry, Jem. It’s just…everyone has all these expectations. My parents, the football coach--”
“You think I don’t get that? Trust me. I get it better than just about anyone.”
He lets out a sigh. “I guess our families have pretty much planned out our lives for us, haven’t they?”
“They think they have, that’s for sure,” I say.
”
”