Chapter 20

Rory was sittingon her front porch staring at the business card in one hand, a hot cup of tea in the other, as an early spring rainstorm breezed past. She still wasn't sure what to make of Dean Farrow's offer. It had been almost a week since he handed her that card, and she had yet to make a decision whether she should call him or not. The only "work" she had to show him was her spreads from the yearbook, and even that felt like a stretch.

But…could she see herself at an art school like Baybrook? While she wished she could deny it, the answer was yes. Being around other artists who actually enjoyed sharing their ideas and interpretations, debating artistic choices of famous works around them, being on a smaller campus that focused on craft rather than taking required classes she didn't care about…it seemed a little too good to be true.

Yet she knew it was far more complicated than that. She couldn't just apply to art school and go. Gabi had been working to save for college, and she was still under the impression that Rory had applied. She had a feeling as soon as she told her that she wanted to go to a small art school instead, it would crush her.

Plus, it was close to home. Did she really want to stay in Haverport? Baybrook didn't have dorms, and it would probably be cheaper for her to stay here. But would Gabi even let her after that kind of disappointment? Would she have to get an apartment, and another job to pay her bills?

Her mind was racing through all of the complicated details when she saw Tyler's Jeep pull into his driveway next door. He glanced over at her from inside the car, the rain coming down hard now. Her face flushed, thinking about the last time they were in the rain together.

He raised an eyebrow at her—a challenge. Would she let him approach her? Would she finally talk to him?

She nodded, motioning for him to join her. He scrambled out of the car and almost tripped over himself as he jogged over to the porch. She noticed the way he was trying to contain the smile on his face.

Rory shoved the card into her pocket. "Look at you jogging over here. It's like you have a whole new leg!"

Tyler grinned, bending slightly. "I can jump, too. Want to see?"

"Don't hurt yoursel—"

He jumped on her porch, causing the wood underneath to rattle from his strength. They both laughed as Tyler took a seat next to her, swinging an arm around her shoulders and giving her a tight squeeze. The comforting familiarity made her heart patter in her chest.

"So does this mean you can play again?" she asked.

"It does," Tyler answered. "My PT says I still need to take it easy this spring, though."

And after the summer?Rory thought. Did this mean he was planning on playing this fall? The two of them had yet to talk about college and what was happening after graduation. She sighed, her mind drifting again to the card burning a hole in her pocket.

"Hey…can I get your opinion on something?" she asked.

"Always, Ry."

She pulled the card out and held it up to him. He took it, holding on to it like it was precious.

"How'd you get this?" he asked once he'd read it.

"I went with Melanie to Leila's exhibit for her sculpture class last week, and I spoke with the dean for a few minutes."

"And he just…handed you his card?"

"Yeah. I guess he liked what I had to say. He asked me to call him to make an appointment so he can see my work."

"Do you have work to show him?"

"I could bring some of my yearbook spreads, maybe some of my sketches," she responded. "It's not much, but I don't know, is it worth a shot?"

Tyler sat there in silence, staring at the thick paper card. Rory realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly, nervous all of a sudden. Was he going to tell her that it was a bad idea? That she should go to a real college and forget it altogether?

But he didn't shut her down. Instead, he turned his dark chocolate eyes to hers and said, "I think this is incredible."

She felt her face heat. "R-really?"

"Absolutely," he nodded. "And I think it makes a lot of sense."

"Why?"

He gave her a You have to be joking me look, which made her laugh. "Ry, you've been making me watch Disney movies on repeat since I moved to Haverport. Your room is like a freaking art exhibit, and you're never afraid to wear what you want or try something new, like with the yearbook. You would kill it at a place like Baybrook."

She sniffled, realizing there were tears on her cheeks. She didn't bother wiping them away. "But Gabi…what do I do? How do I tell her?"

Tyler brought his hand up and wiped away her tears. "I don't know, Ry. It won't be easy. But I think you'll always regret it if you don't try."

She placed her head on his shoulder. She smiled, remembering when they'd sat like this on Christmas during a snowstorm, the almost-kiss.

"Ry?"

"Mmm?"

"Why have you been ignoring me?"

She stiffened. "I've…had a lot going on. Finishing up the yearbook."

"I know, I get that. But it's been weeks since I've heard from you. It feels like I messed up or something. Is it because we…?"

Kissed?Rory finished his question in her head as she sat up, looking at Ty. His eyes were insistent as he scanned her face, as if her ignoring him was eating him alive.

"Zoe told me the truth."

She could see the wheels turning in his eyes, calculating his careful response. "What did she say?"

"That you guys aren't really dating, that it's all fake."

Tyler looked away for a moment. "Is that all she said?"

"Well…yeah. She wouldn't tell me why, which makes all of this so much more confusing."

He didn't say anything, just kept looking over her shoulder.

"Please tell me the truth, Ty," she pleaded.

She watched his shoulders sag, the expression on his face softening as he finally looked back down at her. He grabbed her hand and leaned in, his thumb brushing back and forth over her knuckles. "Back in November after the Homecoming game, Zoe's dad invited me to dinner. He said that a player like myself should be playing college football, and he had a connection through a friend at the University of North Texas."

Her body went rigid. "T-Texas?"

He nodded. "So I went to the dinner, and it went really well. But he kept making these comments about how nice of a young man I was, that I should take his daughter out, and all that. So, that night, Zoe and I made a pact. We would pretend to date until graduation."

She was silent for a moment. "That night when you had Zoe over, you closed the curtains—"

Tyler cut her off. "We were doing homework. That's all we do together. I have straight As for the first time in my life."

Her shoulders relaxed, but it still didn't make any sense. "But…why would Zoe want to do this? I mean, I know she's like, stupidly nice…but that feels like a really, really big favor."

"It was…mutually beneficial," Tyler explained.

Rory's mind immediately went to the Festival of Lights. "Walker?"

Tyler hesitated, like he was about to tell her. Then he just shook his head. "Ry, I'm sorry, I can't. That's her thing to share, when she's ready."

She was frustrated by his answer, but then her mind drifted back to what he'd told her. Texas. "You're moving. Like, really far away."

He lifted a hand to her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "I don't know yet. I still haven't heard."

She clamped her eyelids shut, letting her tears fall, the crackle of thunder dulling the sound of her sobs as Tyler pulled her close, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

"I can't lose you," she admitted.

"You won't, Ry, I promise."

"I don't have much of a family."

"We'll always be family. And I don't think you could get rid of Bea if you tried."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around Tyler's waist.

"Plus," he said, his voice hoarse. He sounded like he was crying, too. "You have him. Jay."

She looked up at Tyler, and sure enough, tears filled his eyes. Her heart melted, knowing how much he cared for her. How much she was going to miss him. "I broke things off with him," she confessed.

He stiffened. "What?"

"I ended things," she admitted. "On Christmas."

"When on Christmas?"

"After…after we, um…after I went home."

Tyler looked out at the storm, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Ty…Ty, say something."

"I have to go."

She let his hand go, watching him stand up and walk down the porch steps. She stood up as well. "What…are you mad at me?"

He froze, not looking back at her, the rain ricocheting off his shoulders. "No."

She growled, frustrated. "Then what is it? Ty, my thing with Jay was…stupid. Then I kissed you and everything changed. I couldn't be with him like that anymore."

He didn't move, so she took that as a sign to move closer to him, not caring that she was now getting soaked as well. "Ty, look at me."

Slowly, he did, his body still rigid like he was trying to restrain himself.

You'll always regret it if you don't try.He said those words to her just moments ago, so she decided to take his advice. She'd call Roger Farrow tomorrow. She would tell Gabi, no matter how much it would hurt her mother, because deep down, she knew what she needed to do next with her life. And she desperately wanted Tyler to be a part of it—and not just as her best friend. As the person she wanted by her side through it all. So she would try right now, because she knew she would regret it for her entire life if she didn't.

"I'm falling for you," she admitted, her voice shaky but sure. "And I want to be with you."

He squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head up to the stormy clouds. She couldn't tell if he was still crying or not, his face wet from the rain still coming down.

"But if you…if you don't want to be with me, you need to tell me, Ty," she said, her voice choppy. "Please, I can't keep waiting around, hoping that you'll choose me, too."

He looked back into her eyes, and for an excruciating moment, he just stared at her, the thunder booming in the distance. She took a step back, knowing what was coming, that he was going to shatter the heart she just handed him into a million pieces. But he reached for her instead, cupping her face with both hands, pulling her close to him.

"You are the person I've always desired most, since the day I met you," he confessed. "Not being able to talk to you these past few weeks has been excruciating, because I want to share everything with you. I wanted to tell you how my recovery was going and wanted to vent to you when Bea spent an entire week only speaking in French. I wanted to watch Disney movies with you when my brain was feeling too fried from homework, watch your sad attempt at playing football in the backyard, or even just approach you in the hall when I was having a rough day. You are the person I share my deepest secrets with, the person who knows all of my flaws."

She waited for it, waited for him to say he was ending this thing with Zoe and wanted to be with her. That he would choose her, too.

But he didn't. He didn't pull her close or brush his lips against hers. He just looked at her with sad eyes. "But I'm going to leave for school, and that will break your heart. I can't do that to you, Ry. You deserve better."

Before she could respond, he let go of her and jogged back to his house, not looking back as he closed the door, the sound of the lock similar to the crack that just reverberated through her heart.

* * *

Rory had wantedto wallow in bed the rest of the night, but her mind was plagued by Tyler's words, how he so easily told her what she meant to him, yet in the same breath turned her down. His confession ran like a ticker tape in her mind, and she needed something to ease her thoughts. Something to hope for.

So she opened her laptop and sent an email.

Now, days later, she was sitting in a tufted leather chair that she was pretty sure was about to swallow her whole.

Roger Farrow placed the printed sheets on his desk and leaned back in his own chair. "Ms. Michaels, I'm really glad you called."

Rory shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pulling at the hem of her skirt. She hadn't been sure what you wore when you visited the dean of a college, so she settled for a navy skirt and a sage green button-up cardigan with a pair of loafers. She crossed her legs as she squeezed her hands together, trying to calm herself. "You like them?"

"Yes, these are clever. I think your classmates will enjoy having such a unique yearbook to look back on."

"That was our goal," Rory said, beaming with pride. She was anxious to see what the final result would be, but that would come after adding all of the prom pictures, and prom wasn't for another month and a half.

"Tell me, Ms. Michaels. If you were to attend Baybrook, what kind of art would you want to focus on?"

She took a moment to think it through, staring out the window to their left, watching students walk through the small courtyard. What classes would excite her the most? "I've always loved design and animation," she admitted, looking back at him. "Maybe digital art of some kind."

He nodded. "Based on your work, I feel a graphic design major would be something you could thrive in."

She felt her body soar at the sound of it. Something you could thrive in. She never really thrived in school, always coasted by, her grades just good enough to pass. But thrive? She never imagined that for herself.

The dean leaned against his desk, folding his hands together in front of him. "I do have to be frank with you. We want our students to have a well-rounded education in the arts. All students are required to take a variety of core classes. You saw the results of the sculpture program, and students are also required to take classes in drawing, painting, and illustration. Many of the students coming in have ample experience with this type of art."

She felt flattened by this after soaring high above. "Does this mean I won't be accepted?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," he replied. "The graphic design program is still really new for Baybrook, and as you can see, we're actively recruiting to find students who don't just apply for our core fine arts programs. I think you would be perfect for the graphic design program, but I just wanted you to know that it's going to be a lot of work. It may feel like you're having to catch up."

She twisted her hands in her lap, wondering if it would be worth it. Would going to a normal college be easier? Or was she just afraid of doing things that felt too hard?

"If my opinion matters at all to you, pardon my boldness when I say that you'd have no trouble being admitted to our program," he continued. "And based on our discussion at the exhibit, I have a feeling you will succeed at whatever you set your mind to here."

She looked into Dean Farrow's eyes, noticing the way they twinkled with excitement, just like they did at the exhibit. This man was passionate about his students and their success.

"Why did you approach me at the exhibit?" she asked.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair again as he crossed his arms. "It's part of the grading process. I help out the professors at every exhibit by talking with guests to hear about their interpretations of the art around them, and those comments are taken into consideration for final assessments."

"But isn't the purpose of art to have different interpretations and opinions, to have discourse with one another? What if someone's interpretation doesn't match the artist's purpose?"

He grinned. "We don't look for correct interpretations. If a piece isn't sparking that kind of intellectual discussion, we bring that to the artist and ask what could have been done differently. With the way you were taking in We Found Love in a Hopeless Place, I had a feeling I was in for a good discussion.

"This right here, Ms. Michaels," he continued, pointing between them. "This level of deeper thinking is what we look for in our students. You may not have all of the skills, but you strike me as someone with curiosity and drive. That's why I'm confident you will succeed."

She liked the idea of succeeding, of being a student with ideas and thoughts that really mattered, where getting good grades wasn't all about getting the right answer. At some point she'd stopped fidgeting. It felt like everything was clicking into place, her mind finally at ease from the anxious energy her chat with Tyler had sparked. She asked for an application.

* * *

Rory was stillup when Gabi arrived home later that night. Her laptop was open, papers scattered across the table as she collected files of her work to submit with her application. Not like she really needed to; Roger Farrow already had printed copies of her spreads. But she did it anyway, at least for admissions to have everything on hand.

Gabi walked around the table and opened up the freezer, grabbing a carton of ice cream. "What do we have here? Late-night homework sesh?"

She hesitated, wondering if she should close her laptop and hide the application she was working on. But at some point, Gabi would find out the truth, so she decided it was now or never.

Rory twisted in her chair, looking at Gabi as she pulled down a bowl from the cupboard. "It's a college application."

The bowl almost clattered to the ground, but Gabi caught it quickly, sliding it on the counter as she swiveled to face her. "An application? I thought you already applied to schools."

She exhaled. She did consider applying to the schools she listed to her mother that past fall. But every time she sat down to do it, she froze, anxiety building up in her chest as she slammed her laptop shut. Filling out the application for Baybrook didn't make her feel that way. It actually made her feel giddy, her heart ripe with possibility.

"Did you not get into those schools?" Gabi asked.

You'll always regret it if you don't try.

She stood up, hands clutched to the back of the chair. "I'm applying for art school."

Gabi cocked her head, looking flabbergasted. "Art school? Like, through a university or—"

"No," she interrupted. "I'm applying to the Baybrook School of Fine Arts. I met with the dean today, and he thinks I would do well."

"Bu-but," Gabi stuttered. "Why would you not want to go to a university? And does the art school even give out degrees?"

"Yes, it would be a BFA, and I'm looking to focus on graphic design," she explained. "I don't want to go to a university."

"Why not?" Gabi pleaded. "Don't you want to go to college football games and join a sorority and live in a dorm and have late nights at the library with your friends?"

"Not really," she admitted, her voice timid. "Also, do I really look like the sorority type?"

Gabi rolled her eyes. "You're getting away from my point. Don't you want the true college experience?"

She shook her head.

"I think you need to consider it." Gabi harrumphed. "Where else did you get in? We can visit some of them, I'll take time off."

She felt her stomach churn, knowing how easily her mother was ready to take time off when it came to her college education.

She sucked in a breath and confessed. "I didn't apply to other schools."

Gabi's eyes went wide, her eyebrows raised so high on her head they were hidden behind her wavy blonde bangs. "So when you told me you applied to UCONN and Quinnipiac and Northeastern—"

"I was lying. I didn't apply to those places. Didn't apply anywhere."

Gabi let out a high-pitched laugh that sounded more like a screech. Rory watched as her mother paced back and forth, her face purple with anger. "I can't believe you, kid. Why would you lie to me like this?"

"Because college is all you care about," Rory said. "But I wasn't ready for it. I didn't want to disappoint you."

"But it's all we've been working toward," Gabi pleaded.

"No, it's all you've been working toward," she said, her voice crackly as hot tears pooled down her cheeks. "You've been so hyper-focused on me going to school that you couldn't even pay attention to the fact that I didn't want to go in the first place."

"Now what? I'll just waste all of my hard-earned money so you can go to an art school and starve after graduation?"

"I won't starve. The dean said—"

"I don't care what the dean said, he just wants your money," Gabi spat. "If you decide to go, I will not give you a single penny. You can have your college money next year when you've been accepted to a real school."

Gabi left her melting ice cream in the bowl on the table and stormed off, slamming her bedroom door shut.

Even after the fight, after knowing that she may not even be able to afford Baybrook, Rory sat back down at the table and with teary eyes, she clicked Submit.