Baseball & Broadway
I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the evening before I depart for college. There’s a twinge of bittersweetness coating the air surrounding our table. It’s the last time I’ll see my high-school sweetheart, Easton, until Thanksgiving break. The last time he’ll hold my hand in his, the way he’s doing it now, for a long while.
I’m not sure how well our long distance relationship will work, but we’ll do what we have to. We’ve been together for so many years, I don’t know what we would do if we weren’t one unit.
We’re at our favorite Italian restaurant, Ramona’s. The flickering candles on the table, our water in wine glasses giving us a look of sophistication, and the Dean Martin crooning from the speakers, keeps our last outing romantic. It’s exactly like I pictured it, down to a T.
It’s crowded in here, which is expected for a Friday night. I don’t hear the other patrons, though. My entire focus is on Easton, as I try to cement his looks in my mind to last me for a while. I’m going to miss his bright green eyes laughing at me when I do something ridiculous. The way his lips pull up into a smirk when I bust out in song and dance regardless of where we are. I won’t be able to cheer for him from the stands as he rounds third base and heads for home.
Just like that, my mood starts to dim. I try to keep my smile firmly in place, but I’m beginning to think I should have chosen a performing arts school closer to him. Even if they are subpar to the elite school I spent my whole life hoping to get into, and actually got the acceptance letter to attend a few months ago.
Easton brushes his fingertips across my palm, bringing me back to the present. He always seems to know when I start to get sad, it’s comforting. I know that I shouldn’t dwell on the future. Everything will work itself out. I glance down at our hands, feeling the butterflies come to life, as they always do. That’s how I know we’ll be okay. Even after the years we’ve been together he still manages to give me warm fuzzies. I always feel that new relationship giddiness.
When I glance up at him, he’s smiling, but it feels forced. His lips aren’t quite as upturned as they usually would be. My stomach fills with dread. Whatever he’s about to tell me isn’t good, and I’m pretty sure this boy I’ve loved for most of my teen years is about to break my heart. I just hope I’m strong enough to pick up the pieces afterward.
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