Me: Ok.
The early October weather is finally starting to feel like a Midwest fall, and when I open the front door, the cool air calms my warm skin. Kelley is leaning on the railing of the front porch, and dang it all, he’s wearing a stupid Henley.
“Ives,” Kelley says, assessing me. I feel his eyes on me. I always feel his eyes on me. I tell myself that the responding shiver is from the chill in the air, and not my body reacting to his nearness.
“Kelley.” I stand taller. “Look, Kell, I don’t think now—”
“Just hear me out, okay? Please. I know you’re trying to avoid this, but what I have to say is important. You need to hear me out.”
His eyes are pleading, a determined set to his jaw. I watch the muscles bunch under his scruff as he clenches his teeth. When he pushes off the railing and squares his shoulders, my eyes track over the way his shirt clings to his biceps and chest. A chest that just last night, I was resting my head on.
“Let me argue my case, okay? If afterward you still feel the same as you did earlier, I’ll back off.”
I nod and respond hesitantly, “Sure.”
“Okay, take it out.”
I raise a brow. “Take what out?”
“Your list. The list I know you’ve made trying to talk yourself out of being with me. And a pen, too.”
Again, I’m floored by how well he knows me, so I walk back into the house and grab a pen and the papers off my bed.
Kelley sighs when he sees what I’ve brought down.
“Three lists,” he mumbles. “Alright, fine. What’s the first one?”
“You want me to read them out?”
“How else am I supposed to give my rebuttal?”
I pause. What the heck. These lists weren’t meant to be seen by him.
Kelley takes a breath. His eyes are intense and burning with urgency and sincerity, so I brace myself, and read the first bullet.
“I need at least a 175 on my LSAT. You’ve been distracting me from prepping.”
“I’m sorry for distracting you, but that’s a non-issue because your test is tomorrow. Cross it off.” I squint at him and slowly run the pen through the words. “Number two,” he prompts.
“I need to maintain my GPA to remain competitive for law schools. I can’t forfeit study time,” I say firmly.
“Easy. We’ll draw up a schedule. Set times when you need to study, and I won’t bother you. Same with when you need to work on your applications. Cross it off and give me the next.”
I huff a little, but I cross it off and read the next bullet.
“Okay. My internship. I need to keep getting the hours so I can earn the money to pay for law school, and so I can keep a competitive resume. Plus, I need the experience.”
“Also easy. No more texting during internship hours and no more dates on days when you have to be at the firm. Hit me with the next one.”
I’m getting flustered. I was so sure when I made these lists.
“Law school. I don’t know where I’m going to be after this year.” I pop my hand on my hip, but he shakes his head.
“That’s months away, Ivy. That should be the last item on your list because it’s not an immediate concern.” I roll my eyes at him because I know he’s right. “Keep it on there if you need to. In a few months, we’ll revisit it. Next.”
I’m overwhelmed with nerves that I can’t explain, and with trembling fingers, I flip through the papers and try to find one that doesn’t seem so easy to deal with.
“Next one, Ives,” he says more softly.