Page 292 of Across His Line

“Do you want to sign?”

The floors tick by over the door. Eight. Nine.

“Yeah,” I say. No pause. Same as the hallway.

And she smiles. All the way, red eyes and all.

“I hope they ask you, Rafe,” she says. She wants this for me so much I can see it in her hands.

I kiss her. The elevator dings. Neither of us gets out. The doors close, and we go back down to the lobby, then up again. I will never forget her laugh when I pull her down the hallway

At dinner, it’s everybody.

Barnes on FaceTime, yelling. Kennebeck looks at me for a long second and says, “The jersey is not your color.” A pause. “Good job, man.”

Kylie calls Tessa and screams for two full minutes without a word. Paige texts Tessa one line: Tell him congratulations.Tessa shows me. I don’t know why any of this matters, but all of the congratulations makes me feel good.

Berwyn: Discipline. They told you. I’m telling you. Proud of you, kid.

I read it four times.

My father orders champagne. He pours a glass, holds it out to me, pulls it back, and says, “You’re nineteen,” like he just remembered and drinks it himself. My mom laughs so hard she has to put her napkin over her face.

I eat a steak. It’s the best meal I’ve ever had.

Tessa sits next to me in the green dress, laughs at my father, talks to my mom, and every so often, without looking, puts her hand on my leg under the table and leaves it there.

I’m happy. I let myself be. All the way, for once.

Later, in the room, she’s at the mirror taking off her makeup. I’m on the bed in the jersey and my boxers because I can’t make myself take it off, and she says I look ridiculous, and I tell her I know.

“When’s camp?” she says.

“They’re sending the dates tonight.”

“How long?”

“A week.”

“And if you sign, when would you leave?”

“I don’t know yet. After camp, maybe. A couple weeks. A month. Sato says it depends.”

She nods at the mirror.

“And you’d go to their minor-league team. Where is that?”

I tell her.

She nods. Types something on her phone on the counter with her free hand. I can’t see what.

“How far is that from your parents?”

I tell her that, too.

She nods.

And something snags.