Chapter 15: Tally

fifteen

TALLY

He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of,

his and mine are the same.

— EMILY brONT?

M y phone vibrated and I pulled it from the pocket of my graduation gown.

Mom: So proud of all you’ve accomplished. You’re graduating today. You start your editing job on Monday. Why not make it a perfect trifecta and have everything you’ve ever wanted? Be brave, Tally. Relax into the love of Ashton.

She’d sent me a similar message every day for the last month. The reasons for sending them were always different but the sentiment was the same. ‘Can you grab a gallon of milk while you’re out? And while you’re at it, relax into the love of Ashton.’ Or, ‘you know what would help you write the bedroom scene? Relaxing into the love of Ashton.’

I glanced up at the stage where the entire English Department awaited us. Most of the professors were sitting. Two were standing in a line, shaking hands. Another handed out diplomas. And Ashton was at the podium, announcing.

He was so handsome, even in his Virginia Tech cap and gown. My heart swelled as I watched him, so capable in everything he did. Did the man ever get nervous about anything? He announced the next graduate, his voice loud and confident. No, I don’t think he did.

“Why haven’t you written down your quote yet?” Ashley whispered as her tassel blew into her eyes. I glanced up at my study partner of the last year and a half. Sweat beaded along her forehead below the edge of her graduation cap.

“It’s so hot, I can’t think.” Not true. Yes, it was stupid hot. Virginia was in the middle of a freak May heat wave. But the stifling temperature had nothing to do with the mental gridlock going on in my head.

“We all know your favorite quote.” She reached for the index card in my hand. “I’ll write it for you.”

I yanked it away from her. “I’m thinking of shaking it up a bit. Using a different quote.”

Her face crunched with disapproval. “This is supposed to be your favorite quote from your favorite literary work of all time.” She pointed to the instructions on the card.

“Shhh.” I laughed and tucked the card on the other side of my body.

“Well, you better hurry.” She nodded to the line of graduates standing in the first row. There were four rows, and we were in the last. But she was right. I needed to get on with it. I stole one more glance at the handsome professor who, in another few minutes, wouldn’t be my professor anymore. I leaned away from Ashley and began to write.

Just as I was finishing up, Ashley tapped me on the leg. I followed her down the aisle. Then I shoved my sleeves up and fanned my face. Whoever designed graduation gowns should be spanked. A sack of polyester that holds the heat in like a sauna was the last thing anyone wanted to wear on a roasting Spring day.

With a nod of approval from Dr. Gibson, the gatekeeper to the stage, Ashley bounded up the stairs. Without looking at Ashton, she thrust her card out to him and then turned her nose up in the air.

He took it without ceremony and bent down to speak into the mic which was much too short for him. “‘No, I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn. Makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?’ Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen?” I huffed. It wasn’t even from the book. It was from the 2005 movie. What a hypocrite. Ashley’s favorite work of literature was Fifty Shades of Grey .

Ashton’s brow lifted. “Ashley Corbin, Creative Writing.”

She waved at the crowd and her cheering family as she skipped across the stage. When she got to Dr. Bell, the department chair, she curtsied. He bowed and handed her a diploma. They shook hands and posed for the camera.

“Tally.” Dr. Gibson motioned for me to hurry.

I’d gotten so caught up in watching Ashley’s performance that I’d forgotten it was my turn. I jogged up the stairs, rolled my shoulders back, and walked over to Ashton. He smiled. I smiled bigger.

“Congrats, Tally,” he whispered, his beautiful eyes dancing at me.

“Thank you, Professor Dupree. ”

I reached out to hand him my card. When he took it and I pulled my hand away, I made sure to trace my fingertips across his wrist and down to the tips of his fingers. Then I stepped to the side, waiting. I looked out at the crowd and smiled. Everyone had come. Mom, Theo, and Charlie. Blue and Anna, who had graduated yesterday from the Virginia Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine at Virginia Tech. Lemon and Silas, Holden and Christy, Jenny and Bo, and Ford. Even Jeff, Ford’s bodyguard, was standing watch under the shade of a nearby oak tree.

Ashton put his mouth to the microphone again. But then he paused, reading the card. I bit the insides of my cheeks, determined not to grin.

I heard him exhale. “‘He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’ Emily Bront?, Wuthering Heights .” He glanced over at me and I gave him a wink. “Tallulah Hawkins, Creative Writing.”

Everyone cheered. Ford let out an ear-splitting whistle. I knew it was Ford. I’d heard him use that same whistle on Peyton too many times, catcalling her when she wouldn’t give him the time of day. From my periphery, I watched as Ashton slid the card into his pocket. Good. With that done, everything in me calmed and I sauntered across the stage.

When I got to my seat, Ashley tackled me in a hug. “We did it!”

“We did it.” I grinned.

We fanned ourselves with our diplomas as Ashton finished announcing the last of the graduates. Then he sat down and pulled the card out of his pocket. Covertly, he reread it, his cheeks flushing. He’d seen the note I left at the bottom.

But he needed to flip it over. That’s where the real message was.

He pulled out his phone and ten seconds later my pocket buzzed. I turned away from Ashley and peeked at the message.

Ashton: I’m a little shocked. I was expecting, “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me…”

Everyone in the program or anyone who knew me at all knew that Jane Eyre quote was my favorite. Or it had been. Until recently.

Me: You recited all of those beautiful quotes to me when we took that horse ride and I realized later that I didn’t reciprocate at all.

Ashton: Wait, this quote is how you feel about me?

Peace settled in my chest, and I realized that, over the last few weeks, the feeling had only grown as I'd made an effort to relax into Ashton's love. This was right. He was right.

I could wax eloquent, but sometimes a simple one-word answer is the correct response.

Me: Yes.

Then I added,

Me: It’s like the Bront? sisters are bookends to our friendship. We started with Charlotte and we’re ending with Emily. I’m going to get you to fall in love with the Bront?’s one way or another.

Ashton: Never. I refuse.

I huffed and then laughed.

Ashton: We’re ending?

Me: You need to flip the card over!

I watched as he did and envisioned those words in my mind.

I’m ready, Ash. For all of it. The intense, the scary, the wild, the wonderful. Everything that being in a relationship with you will be. And I want to experience it fully. I don’t want you to ask if you can touch me. Just touch me. Hug me. Tickle me. Tease me.

Kiss me.

Today. Please. Intensely. Don’t hold back. I know I won’t. Not anymore.

You’re my best friend, my favorite person, and…

Well, I’ll save that part for face-to-face.

And before you ask me if I’m sure, I’ll save you the trouble. I’ve never been more sure about anything or anyone.

Love,

Tally

PS: I promise no more broken noses. Just maybe don’t sneak up on me.

PPS: I left a present for you on Incognito.

He must’ve reread it three times, he stared at the card so long, processing. Then he looked up. Our eyes met. I smiled. He didn’t. His expression was serious and intense.

He slipped the card into his pocket and picked his phone up, his fingers tapping, focused on the screen, and I knew he was going to Incognito.

Right now.