Spending time with Baker right now is somehow both harder and better than spending time with him during the school year. It's harder because he brings his brother with him everywhere he goes. Not that I mind. I actually really enjoy hanging out with Ian. He's definitely come out of his shell with me quite a bit, and unlike the first time I met him in the car, he actually talks to me now. Mostly he talks about baseball. Seriously, I've never met a kid more obsessed with a sport in my life. Sometimes even Baker has to tell him to tone it down a bit. But I think it's cool that he's so passionate about something.

The only downside of Ian spending all his time with Baker is that I can never get Baker alone for any length of time. Sure, we have those brief moments at the park when his brother is out on his own, but they're never long enough for me to get a feel for what exactly Baker and I are doing here. Sometimes I think he might be flirting with me, but before I can figure it out, his brother comes back and interrupts the conversation. It's adorable and maddening.

But when he's working at the roller rink, it's a different story. Ian gets bored hanging out in the small arcade, and he doesn't like to skate. So while Baker is at work, he spends his time with some friends he met on the baseball team last year, giving me some semi-quality time with Baker. Part of me is always a little afraid that he's going to get in trouble having me behind the counter with him. But after the first few times of me spending the day with him, my worry starts to alleviate. And when his manager introduces herself to me, and I see she's just a little older than we are, I don't worry about it anymore.

I haven't brought up his top three answers to his favorite things question, but I've thought about it a lot. Beth thinks I should just ask him straight up what he meant by it, but I don't. I'm too nervous to bring it up. But ever since he sent it to me, I find that things are quite the same between us. Sometimes I feel his eyes on me, watching me when I'm looking down at my book or staring at my laptop screen in frustration as I try to come up with answers for my own admission essays.

"Still no luck, huh?" he asks me one afternoon after a particularly long staring session with my computer screen. I shake my head as he takes a sip of his pop. Then he sets it down on the counter and walks up to me, sliding his arm around my chair as he leans down to look at what I've written thus far. Oh God. He smells so good. I swallow hard and try to focus on the screen, but it's hard when my heart is pounding in my chest from him being in such close proximity.

His brow furrows as he reads the questions. "What's the problem? They don't seem too hard."

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I'm just really struggling here."

He moves away from me long enough to pull up a chair to sit across from me. "Maybe you're just thinking about it too hard," he says. I wrinkle my nose, and he smiles. "Really. These questions aren't hard, Summer. You're just psyching yourself out."

I groan and press my head against the keyboard. "I know. It's so stupid. I've answered harder questions than these on my homework assignments. But these ones... I just don't know what to say."

He gives me a sympathetic smile, and I notice the corner of his lip is cracked, dried blood caking the edges. "What do you have so far?" he asks.

I shake my head and cover my face with my hands before saying, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" he gasps, surprised, and I shake my head. "Summer, you didn't tell me it was that bad!"

"It's horrible," I say as I slide my hands down my face. "The words are just not coming to me. How did you write yours?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. It came kind of easy to me, because I just wrote what was true. Most of the questions are them just getting to know you. Making sure you're a good fit."

I nod my head, turning to look back at my laptop screen. "Okay, but what if I'm not a good fit?" I ask miserably.

"You are," he replies, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly and waking the butterflies in my stomach. "You're just in your head about it, Summer. Thinking too hard. Just write what you feel. And then they'll see that you are a good fit. You just have to have some confidence. Believe in yourself."

"You say it like it's easy," I say grouchily.

He grins. "It is easy. I mean, I sent you my answers."

"Yeah," I reply, because now we're approaching the subject of that answer. The one with my name on it. "I just... I'm kind of freaking out about this. Columbia is my dream school. And after all this work... all these years... what if I don't get in? I mean, they accept less than 4% of students, Baker. The chances of them accepting me are—"

"Higher than you think they are," he interrupts, and I groan. "Summer, you've been involved in more extracurriculars than anyone ever should be. You went abroad for a foreign exchange program. You're second in our class." I glare at him, and he laughs. "You'll get in."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you don't," he says with a shrug, and I bury my face in my hands again. He sighs and wraps his fingers around my wrists, gently pulling my hands away from my face. His stormy gray eyes blaze into mine. "It doesn't change anything about you. If you don't get in, you don't get in. It wasn't a good fit. But there are other schools, and you'll get into one of them. I promise. It'll be okay. You will be okay."

I stare into his eyes, almost losing myself in them as I allow his words to sink in. But it's hard to focus on them when he's so close. I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks. Can almost count his eyelashes. We stare at each other for several seconds, and I'm frozen, wondering if he's going to kiss me. His eyes do flicker down to my lips for the briefest of seconds. So quickly that if I blinked I'd miss it. Then he catches himself and shakes his head, releasing my wrists and allowing them to fall lazily to my sides.

I clear my throat as he sits up straighter, moving away from me. The air is suddenly tense with this weird awkwardness that feels somewhat sexual in nature. He runs his hands through his hair as I turn away from him, my cheeks burning with something between want and embarrassment. Oh God, how am I supposed to tell Beth about this later? I try to focus on my computer screen again, but now I can hardly see the question. My heart is racing so fast that it feels like it's going to burst out of my chest and fly away.

"Thanks for then... um... vote of confidence?" I say it like it's a question, and immediately regret it. I sound like a total idiot.

He nods his head and chuckles softly. Awkwardly. "Sure thing. Any time, Lumen."

We sit in silence for a few moments as I try to get my footing again. "Maybe I should...?" I trail off, knowing I should leave but not really wanting to.

"Or maybe not," he replies, and I turn to look at him again. "You don't have to."

I nod my head, but when I look away, I find that I'm struggling to hide my smile. "Okay. I won't then."

"Okay," he says, and I hear the smile in his voice as well.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful. I manage to get some of my questions done, although it's not nearly as much progress as I was hoping to make. We chat a little bit, and eventually the awkwardness dies away. But the air has shifted somehow. Whether we like it or not, we've each played our hands a little tonight. Shared a little more than we intended with each other. And yet still not enough. As much as I try not to, I keep going back to that single moment when his eyes fell on my lips. And I wish he would've done it. Taken the chance and kissed me.

But then what? He's at work. And he's already been interrupted by several kids asking for skates or hoping to get candy in exchange for the tickets from the arcade. If he'd kissed me tonight, there's a strong chance it would've ended in disaster. It was a good thing it didn't happen like that. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself as I type away on my computer, and what I repeat later on that night when I crawl into bed. Tonight wasn't the night. And maybe there never will be a night. Maybe it was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix. Or maybe I misread the whole thing.

I try to sleep, but I can't. So I finally give in and call him, hoping he'll be awake still. It's late, but he answers on the second ring anyway. "Lumen," he says in greeting, and God, the way he says it is like music.

"If you get into Stanford, and if I get into Columbia, will you keep in touch with me?" I ask, the question spilling out of me before I even have a chance to stop it.

I hear his smile on the other end of the line as he says, "We've been friends for less than a year, and we've talked almost every day." I don't say anything, because that's not really an answer. And I really, really need for him to answer the question. He sighs. "Yes, Lumen. You couldn't stop me if you tried."

It's like a weight has lifted off my shoulders as a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "Talk to me until I fall asleep?" I ask.

"Okay," he whispers, and I close my eyes, listening to him speak and pretending he's right here with me. Wishing he was. We talk on the phone for a while, whispering to each other in the darkness. And when I do fall asleep, I continue to hear his voice in my dreams, like my favorite song playing on repeat.

I wake up a little while later. I don't know how long. But when I do, I lean in to the phone and say, "Baker? Are you still there?"

There's a moment's hesitation before he says, in a breathless and sleepy voice, "Always, Summer." I nod my head and drift back to sleep, this time not waking up again until morning. By then my phone has gone dead, and the events of yesterday could've almost been a dream. But when I plug my phone in, the message on my screen tells me that it wasn't. That it all did, in fact, happen.

"Always, Summer Lumen," it reads, and I hold my phone to my chest and smile before walking over to my computer, pulling up my essay questions for Columbia, and finally finishing them. It takes me all afternoon, but I get it done. And when I do, I send the answers over to Baker for review, knowing he'll get back to me as soon as he can. Because he knows how serious this is. He might be the only person in my life who gets it. Who gets me. That thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. Like flying, but knowing someone is going to be there to catch you when you eventually fall to the ground. I've never had that before, and I didn't know how much I needed it until now.

Author's Note:
This story is shaping up to be my longest yet. Can't believe I'm almost 40 chapters in and still not even close to finished. Gah! Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! Can't wait to read your comments, and I'll be back again soon with another! Stay safe and healthy until then, my dears!
XOXO,
~Aly