I stare at the words scrawled across the envelope.

I  don't even make it to the door before I wedge the package between my teeth and rip it open. I close the mailbox with my elbow and drop to the stoop. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely slide the cover letter from the envelope.

My face breaks into a wide grin as soon as I read the first paragraph, and I immediately call Wyatt.

"I got the scholarship!" I squeal into the phone as I kick the door closed behind me. I empty the contents of the envelope on the table and fan the letters, forms and brochures out in front of me.

"Yes! Baby, I knew you would. How could you not? Which one did you get?"

"The scholarship, Wyatt. The full ride. Everything is covered for the next three years. Tuition, room and board, even books. Everything." I sigh, relieved. I feel like this is the first big break I've caught in...a while. The first chance I've had to just breathe.

"My girl!" he exclaims. "I am so proud of you! When are you coming home? I want to take you on a date to celebrate!"

Home.

I suppose Adair will be my home again. For the next three years, at least.

"A date? Like a real, proper date?" I try to distract myself from the unsettled feeling I get when I think of Adair as home again.

"Of course," he laughs.

"Like, I get dressed up and you pick me up and take me somewhere?"

He laughs again. "Yeah, kid. That's how dates usually work. Haven't you been on a date before?" I'd never really thought about it, but no. I had a few high school boyfriends, but my dad didn't allow me to date, only hang out in groups or at my house under his supervision. And by the middle of my senior year he was so sick it just wasn't a priority.

"No, actually," I admit.

"What? Yes you have," he argues. "You had a boyfriend in high school. That skinny little dweeb with acne?"

"He was not a dweeb. And it was high school, we were all skinny with acne." I retort.

"I'm not complaining. I'm just honored to be your first official date. Does that mean we're dating?"

Well, shit. I don't know. "Do we have to label it?"

"No, but I'd like to at least know where we stand. I think I deserve at least that. I don't know what the boundaries are. What am I to you?"

Oh, Wyatt. How can I possibly explain what he is to me? How can I explain my hesitation when I'm not entirely sure what's holding me back?

"You're my best friend."

"Who you make out with and date. That sounds an awful lot like a boyfriend."

"Technically we haven't been on a date yet. How about we table the label discussion until after an actual date." That's enough rules and boundaries, right?

"So it's an audition. You're saying I need to impress you." I can feel him smiling through the phone. "Challenge accepted. So when are you moving? I need to know how much time I have to plan this epic date."

"Epic?" I ask. I'm a little nervous. I've put too much pressure on this.

"Epic," he confirms. "Monumental. Legendary."

"Okay, Wyatt. Step away from the thesaurus," I tease with a giggle. "But to answer your question, probably at the end of July. Rent is paid here until August. Classes start the following week, but I can move in early for orientation since I'm new to the University."

"Text me the details and I'll help you move. Whatever you need. Do you need me to fix up the house? Are you getting roommates?" He asks. So many questions, so many decisions.

"I'm living on campus! I got a full ride, including room and board." There's an awkward silence on the other end of the line. "Mom and Eliza are staying at the house for now, just until she gets settled back in Adair. But we'll probably put it on the market soon, so I do need some help fixing the place up," I continue, remembering the peeling paint and overgrown weeds.

"Um, no. I'm not doing shit for Brenda. Fuck her." I'm not surprised at his response.

"But will you do it for me? I mean, it's my house. I want to take care of it." I ask in my sweetest tone. "Please?"

"I don't know. Maybe when she's out of town."

"Okay," I sigh.

"So you want to live on campus? I assumed you'd be thrilled to have a whole house rather than share a dingy communal bathroom. The freshman girls' dorm doesn't even have air conditioning."

"Well, I won't live in the freshman dorm since I'll be a Sophomore," I say, "I'll probably live in one of the apartment suites or the upper class dorm." I'm flipping through the housing brochure that was included in the mailing.

"Hell, no. The upper-class dorm is coed." 

"Don't get all jealous with me."

"Not jealous," he clarifies, "Protective. I lived on that campus for four years, Blaise. I know how disgusting those boys can be and I don't want you having to sleep and shower that near any of them."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, don't be dramatic, Wyatt. It'll be fine, but I will put my housing preference as one of the apartment suites if you want." That's not entirely true, I'm listing my preference as an apartment suite because I'd rather live in an apartment suite, but I'll stretch the truth a little to make Wyatt feel better, feel like it's for him.

"It would make me feel better if you lived on Hummingbird Lane, next door to my parents and far away from those heathens. It would make me feel even better if you'd just move in with me. I have a spare bedroom."

I can't tell if he's serious. He's not seriously asking me to move in, is he? I can't even commit to an exclusive relationship and he wants to move me in? I immediately start weighing the pros and cons.  I'd have to commute to campus. But I would have some privacy. I wouldn't have to live with my mom, but I'd be farther from Eliza. I contemplate it for a few moments before he interrupts my thoughts.

"Of course I'm not serious." I let out a relieved breath. "Even though it actually makes a lot of sense, I know you're too stubborn and independent for that." I stiffen at his words. 

"It's not that I'm stubborn and independent, it's that that's an objectively terrible idea." The line goes quiet for a moment.

"Okay, Blaise," he sighs, his voice sounding exhausted and resigned. That's not what I want. "Of course, you're right. I support whatever makes you happy. Just let me know when and where you need my help for move-in." He sounds so dejected and I feel guilty again. The last thing I want is to hurt Wyatt.

"Sure," I say, still sensing an uncomfortable tension through the phone, "Thanks, Wyatt. Talk to you later?" I ask, hopeful.

"Sure," he says, "I'll call you tonight." 

"And Wyatt?" I say, almost desperate to cheer him up.

"Yeah, kid?" he asks, no inflection in his voice.

"I'm really, really looking forward to our epic, monumental, legendary date," I say, praying for a reaction. I get my wish.

"Yeah, baby, me too," He says cheerfully, almost sounding like himself again, "I miss you. July?" he asks.

"July," I agree.