“Damn. And your dad is paying for all of it?”
“Yes. Every cent. It’s also his alma mater.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where he went to school.”
“Oh. He must be really proud you’re going there, then?”
“I don’t really think he cares where I go to school just as long as it’s a pretentious university.” Alana sulks. “Sometimes I think I would have been better off going to Stanford.”
“Where’s that?”
“California.”
“Definitely not,” I contest.
“Why not?”
“Way, way too far away.”
Alana smiles. “You going to come visit me?”
“Yes, frequently. If you remember who I am after you leave.”
“Why wouldn’t I remember who you are?” Her voice pitches.
I stare at her apprehensively. “Alana,” I sigh her name. “I don’t pretend to believe that when you leave for college you’re going to go with some summer fling in your back pocket. I have never been under the illusion I get to keep you.” Even though I want to. Desperately.
Her mouth drops open. “You are not a summer fling, Ryan. You don’t fall in love with your summer fling. You don’t lose your virginity to your summer fling. At least, I don’t.”
Now it’s my turn to be struck dumbfounded. Her words are like lightning.
“Look.” She turns her body in my direction and grabs my hand. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I haven’t thought about where our relationship is headed. I have, and I know it’s complicated. But I don’t want things to end just because I go away to school.” She sits up a little straighter with a strange expression on her face, like she can’t believe she just admitted that to me. Then she starts fumbling with her words. “I mean... you know, only if you want things to continue... I don’t want to pressure you to stay... um... with me... I mean—”
“Alana,” I interrupt her, putting her out of her misery. “I am yours whether you’re in New Jersey or California, a student or not. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”
She bites her lip. “That might be a really long time.”
“I might be really okay with that,” I affirm as I intertwine our fingers.
Alana smiles this little shy smile. And it yanks every one of my heartstrings. She wants to keep me.
“Do you ever think about going to school?” she asks.
“I think that ship sailed a long time ago.” I snort.
“Why?” she disputes. “Ryan, you’re only twenty-one. You have plenty of time to go back.”
“Alana, even if I wanted to, one, I don’t have the money, and two, I have no idea what I would major in.”
“Those are not strong enough reasons not to go to school. Do you really just want to be a bartender the rest of your life?” The question isn’t patronizing or condescending. Just inquisitive. And for the first time in my adult life, I question the path I’m taking.
I shrug. “I don’t really know what I want.”
“Can I suggest something?”
“Sure.”