Magnolia (29 page)

“Yeah, and you always throw temper tantrums like some kind of spoiled brat. That's just who we are. We're not perfect.” He takes a deep, rattling breath. “But we're good together, Jem.”

He's right. I know he is, but . . .

“You say you love me, but you can't even be bothered to tell me that you're applying to a school in the same city as me? Not until the cat's out the bag and everyone knows? What am I supposed to think, Ryder?”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “Don't you get it? I want you to follow your dreams. To do what you want to do with your life—not what your parents want, or what Nan wants, or what I want. I didn't want to take that away from you. If you knew I was thinking about going to Columbia . . .” He shakes his head.

“Then what? I'm having a hard time following your logic here.”

He sighs, his enormous shoulders seeming to sag. “I didn't want you to apply just because I'm going to be in New York. Or hell, even worse,
not
apply because I'm going to be there. I was going to tell you right after you finished your application. But I wanted to tell you in person. And then the scout shows up at the game tonight, and what was I supposed to do? My mom is freaking out; you're freaking out.” He throws his hands in the air in frustration. “I've totally fucked this up.”

It hits me then, the truth of the situation. He made his decision about Columbia on his own, and he wanted me to be able to do the same. Of course.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the storm bringing us together
like it did, I probably
would
have turned down NYU rather than risk going off to New York with him, and that's the truth.

I drop my gaze to the ground and take a deep breath, cursing myself for being such an idiot.

“No, you haven't,” I say at last, raising my eyes to meet his confused ones.

“Haven't what?”

“Fucked it up.” I take a tentative step toward him. “I get it now. God, Ryder. Why do you have to be so perfect?”

“Perfect? I've been in love with you for so long now, and I've never managed to get it right, not once.”

I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. “News flash—I think you've finally got it this time.”

His smile makes my heart leap. “Do you have any idea what was going through my head when you first told me about NYU? I couldn't believe it. It was like . . . like a gift fell right into my lap. Like winning the lottery. All this time I thought going off to New York would mean leaving you behind. And now—”

“Now we both better get in,” I finish for him, though it probably wasn't what he was going to say. I mean, he's a shoo-in for Columbia. Perfect grades, high SATs,
and
a superstar quarterback the likes of which the Ivy League rarely sees. He's every college admissions director's dream. But me? If I get into NYU, it'll be by the skin of my teeth. Because they want
geographic diversity or something lame like that. I'm nothing special.

“Where will you go if you don't get into NYU?” he asks.

“Where else?” I say. “Ole Miss, with Lucy and Morgan.”

“Then Ole Miss is my backup too. Here's the thing, Jem. I'm going wherever you're going—whether it's New York or Oxford. I'm not missing my chance this time.”

“Why?” The word just tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “You're going to be some kind of college superstar, whether it's the SEC or the Ivy League. You'll probably win a freaking Heisman.”

“And you just might win an Oscar,” he counters.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. Please.”

“Why not? God, Jemma, you don't even see it. How strong and smart and tenacious you are. Everything you do, you do well. I've never seen you put your mind to something and not come out on top. You win that trophy at cheer camp every single summer—what's it called, the superstar award? Only three people at the whole camp get it or something like that, right?”

“How'd you know about that?”

“Miss Shelby told my mom. I think they put it in the yearbook, too, don't they?”

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. It's not that big of a deal. It's just a cheerleading trophy.

“And how long did it take you to win your first shooting
tournament after your dad bought you that gun? Six months, tops? From what I hear, you're the best shot in all of Magnolia Branch.”

“Okay,
that's
true,” I say, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

He reaches for my hand. “And then there's those dresses you make, like the one you wore to homecoming. You take something old and make it new—turn it into something special. My mom says you and Lucy could make a fortune selling 'em, and I bet she's right. Don't you see? You're not just
good
at the stuff you do—you're the
best
. That's just the way you are. So I have no doubt that you're going to be some award-winning filmmaker if you put your mind to it.”

My heart swells unexpectedly. “You really think that?”

He nods, his dark eyes shining. “I really do.”

“Tell me again why we've hated each other all these years?”

“Because we're both stubborn as mules?” he offers.

I can't help but laugh. “Yeah, I'd say that about covers it.”

“I love you, Jemma. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to feel the same. I'll wait forever if I have to.”

I suck in a breath.
He doesn't know
. How would he? He's said it to me, but I've never once said it back. “Trust me, you had me at ‘prettiest girl in all of Magnolia Branch,' and then you sealed the deal with that whole ‘best shot' thing.”

“Wait. . . . Are you saying . . . I mean—”

“Shhh.” I put my finger against his lips. “Though you're really cute when you're stuttering like that.”

“Hey, I don't stutter.”

“Neither do I. I love you, Ryder Marsden. See?” I rise up on tiptoe and press my lips against his.

His arms encircle my waist, drawing me closer, till there's no space whatsoever between our bodies, till I can't tell where he ends and I begin. His mouth moves against mine, and he kisses me hungrily. Thoroughly. Expertly. And
so
very hotly.

This kiss is somehow different from the ones that have come before it. It's a promise that he is mine, that I am his. It's an acceptance of our fate. It's the ultimate acknowledgment of something that's been there all along, just waiting for us to discover it. To enjoy it. To celebrate it.

So we do.

We pull apart only when my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, startling us both. I pull it out and glance down at the screen with trepidation. Just as I feared, it's from Lucy.

Mom alert! Abort mission now!

I
've gotta go,” I say, scowling at my phone.

“Now?” Ryder asks, tipping my chin up with one hand so that our eyes meet.

“Unfortunately. It's my mom. Lucy and Morgan are covering for me, but I've got to get back. I'm supposed to be at the drugstore.”

“What are we going to tell them? Our moms, I mean?”

I shake my head. “We can't tell them anything. At least, not yet. Can you imagine the pressure they'd put on us if they knew? I mean, they already drive us nuts and they think we
hate
each other.”

“You're right. So . . . we keep it a secret?”

“Not exactly. I've got to tell Lucy and Morgan. Just . . . not our parents, okay? Besides, think how fun it will be, sneaking around.”

His eyes light with mischief. “Good point.”

“Don't go getting any naughty ideas,” I tease. “C'mon, walk me to my car.”

He takes my hand and falls into step beside me, glancing down at me with a wicked grin.

“What?” I ask.

“Hey, you're the one who brought up ‘naughty,' not me.”

I poke him playfully in the ribs.

“I've got an idea,” he says. “Let's pretend we've got to do a school project together. You know, say that we've been paired up against our will. We can make a big fuss about it—complain about having to spend so much time together.”

“While we secretly do lots of naughty things?” I offer.

He nods. “Exactly.”

I shiver, imagining the possibilities. Suddenly, I'm looking forward to those Sunday dinners at Magnolia Landing. And to Christmas and the inevitable Cafferty-Marsden winter vacation. In fact, the rest of the school year looms ahead like a lengthy stretch of opportunities, no longer filled with uncertainty and doubt, but with the knowledge that I'm on the right path now . . . the
perfect
path.

And like Nan suggested, I'm going to grab it. Embrace it. Hold on to it tightly—just like I'm holding on to this boy beside me.

We reach my car way too quickly. I'm not ready to go, to leave him, to begin this necessary charade. I lean against my car's door
with a sigh, drawing Ryder toward me. His entire body is pressed against mine, firing every cell inside me at once. My knees go weak as he kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine, despite the urgency.

“Good night,” I whisper.

“Good night,” he whispers back, his breath warm against my cheek.

Oh man. It just about kills me to slip inside the car and turn the key in the ignition. I'm grinning to myself as I drive away, watching as Ryder becomes a speck in my rearview mirror before melting into the night.

When I slip inside my house five minutes later, I find them all standing around the living room—Mama, Laura Grace, Lucy, and Morgan. I force my features into a mask of frustration. “Sorry, Luce,” I say. “I went to two different stores, and neither one had your brand.”

“Did you try Parker Drugs?” Laura Grace asks. “They've got a better selection than the big chain stores.”

“Darn it, no.” I set my keys down with a
thunk
, thinking that my acting skills are surely getting tested tonight. “I didn't even think to try there.”

“Well, now you know. Okay, I'm going to take off. You girls have a good time, you hear?”

I rush over to Laura Grace and give her a hug. I don't know why—maybe it's because I know exactly how she's feeling tonight.

“Aww, sugar.” She pats me on the back before releasing me. “You're such a good girl.”

I feel a momentary flash of guilt, but it passes quickly. She's getting what she wants. She just doesn't know it yet, that's all. “Love you, Miss Laura Grace.”

Her eyes fill with tears. Clearly, it's been an emotional night for her. “I love you too, princess.” She glances over at my mom.

“It'll all work out,” Mama assures her. “I know it will.”

“From your lips to God's ears,” she says, then makes her way to the front door. “Good night, y'all.” With a wave, she's gone.

“You girls want a snack?” Mama asks.

I glance over at my friends, who are both standing behind my mom, shaking their heads frantically.

“Nah, that's okay. We've got some important girl talk to catch up on.” They both dash up the stairs before the words are even out of my mouth.

As I follow them up, my phone buzzes. I pause, my heart racing with anticipation. I know it's from Ryder even before I see his name on the screen, followed by three lines of text.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.

Romeo and Juliet?
I type back, smiling giddily. I should know this—we studied the play in ninth grade.

Yeah. It's Juliet's line, but it works for me.

I love you, Ryder Marsden.

Not half as much as I love you, Jemma Cafferty.

Sighing dreamily, I shove the phone back in my jacket pocket and hurry off to find my friends.

Do I
ever
have a tale to tell them.

Six weeks later

The acceptance letter came in yesterday's mail. Good timing, because Ryder got his the day before and already signed his letter of intent. It was easy to convince my parents that NYU is the right choice for me now that they know Ryder is bound for New York City too—next year's starting quarterback for the Columbia Lions. And me? I'm going to film school. If I say it enough times, maybe I'll actually start to believe it.

My dream, not my parents'. But now . . . now it's so much more.

“Can you pass the salad?” my dad asks Laura Grace.

“Here you go, honey,” she says, handing him the heavy crystal bowl before directing her attention back to my mom. “Maybe they should take the train up to New York. Out of Memphis. I think they'd have to go up to Chicago and then over.”