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“Don’t worry.” He nuzzled her cheek. “When that happens, you bet your ass I won’t have a pound of sand in my shorts.”
Ali laughed and picked up the pouch, loosening the string. From inside, she pulled out a delicate gold chain with a bar in the middle. She lifted it closer to her eyes, recognizing Cornell’s handwriting on the engraving—something forever.
“Cornell… ”
“Here’s your physical evidence,” Cornell joked. “You can’t erase it. So you know I mean it.” He lowered his head, pressing his cheek to hers and resting his chin on her shoulder.
“Will you put it on for me?” Ali asked, handing him the necklace.
She pulled her hair up so he could drape the delicate chain around her, his large fingers fumbling with the tiny clasp until it was secure. Ali let go of her hair, and Cornell turned her to face him.
“Perfect,” he whispered with a smile. “You’re perfect.”
We’re perfect, Ali thought, touching the gold bar that hit under her collarbone. And they were, deep inside their differences—race, height, and opinions—was the perfect balance of the foundation of their love—colorful, beautiful, and fun.
She pressed her lips to his and pushed Cornell until he landed flat on the sand. “I love you,” he said, grinning against Ali’s mouth, using his hands at her waist to pull her higher.
“I love you more.”
Ali didn’t just mean more than Cornell loved her. What it meant was that she loved him more than yesterday, than all the days before that. She loved him more than the tears and smiles, more than the infinite amount of laughter and fun that had passed between them. And somehow, someway, Ali knew that Cornell would show up tomorrow just being himself—and she would love him even more.
Mowgli landed with a thud on her back, sandwiching her closer into Cornell. Ali didn’t care that their dog was half soaked and half sandy, that his ninety pounds were compromising her lung capacity.
All she cared about as Cornell laughed against her mouth, as the light continued to change around them, and the beach quieted was that she would be lucky to remind Cornell that she loved him more every day of whatever comes after forever.
* * *
“Proctoring quizzes is actually not in my job description,” Ali huffed, placing a paper down in front of Marquis. “And neither is calling you eight times so you show up for them.”
Marquis groaned. “Ms. Whitaker—”
“Do you even have a pencil?”
Marquis shook his head, and Ali stomped back into her office. “I’m sorry, I’ll just be a second,” she told Graham before returning to Marquis, handing him a pencil. “If you fail this summer class, you won’t be able to graduate in December. And you still have to pass all of your other classes. I told you before, if you just show up and pretend to be interested, you’re more than halfway there. Twenty minutes. Go.”
“I can come back next week,” Graham told Ali when she came back to her office.
Ali sat at her desk. “No, it’s fine. Let’s try to narrow all your schedule down today.” In case your father calls me to make any changes. “Do you want to pull that chair over so you can take a look?”
Graham stood, stretching his tall, broad frame before dragging a chair beside her. “Did you go away for the Fourth?”
“Sorry?”
“Looks like you got some sun.” Graham adjusted his black Texas Tech hat and motioned down to her arm, a shade darker than her normal cool olive tone.
“Oh. Yes, I did.” Ali logged in, pulling up access to Graham’s student portal. “Anything fun happen here over the holiday weekend? Last year someone tried to set fireworks off from the dorm roof.”
“Wouldn’t know,” Graham told her.
“I forgot you don’t live in the dorms,” Ali said, remembering that Graham’s parents had rented a house in town where his mother stayed while his father worked in Houston. “Maybe you should talk to your parents about staying on campus in the fall. Most of the team does. It’s a good way to bond.”
“They think dorm life is a distraction,” Graham said with a shrug. “My dad said it’s better for everyone if I stay with my mom.”
“So, Intro to Statistics? Is that what you decided on?”
“I guess. I took it in high school. Pretty easy. My dad said I need a 4.0.”
Graham didn’t technically need a perfect GPA to leave Hopperville in a semester, only a 2.5, which nearly everyone considered pretty low. Ali looked into the computer lab where Marquis was hunched over his algebra quiz, struggling. For most of Ali’s students, a 2.5 was high.
