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I contemplate his words and realize he’s right. The smile on my face grows wider.
—
We thank and tip Matias as we hop off the boat and head over to the beach chairs where we left all our stuff. Dean runs to the bar to grab us some water since it’s superhot out in the sun, and I sit on my beach chair to reapply sunscreen.
When I check my phone, I find a text from Mom.
I emailed you some links to MCAT prep courses. Pick one youwant to take this summer.
A huff escapes me. Typical. My parents can’t even go a day without getting all giddy about med school. Why couldn’t this wait until I got home?
I try to keep my breathing calm and press my luck as I type back my response.Med school isn’t for another 4 years. Don’t youthink it’s a little too early to take an entrance test course??
Her response is quick.It’s never too early for prep courses.
I was having a good—no—agreatday with Dean, and my parents can’t even wait a week to cram med school down my throat. And they’re completely ignoring the fact that I don’t evenwantto go to med school. Sure, they dismissed my declaration about wanting to take a year off, but deep down under their own belief of what’s best for me, they know it’s what I really want.
I text her,I’ll think about it and let you know.
But I won’t. I’ll get home, and she’ll inform me she’s already enrolled me in a course she likes, and I’ll take it without complaining because that’s what’s expected of me.
“I leave you for two minutes and you’re pouting. It’s illegal to be upset on vacation, you know,” Dean says, handing me a cool water bottle.
I slip my phone back into my bag. “Even here you can’t escape overbearing parents pushing you to be a perfectionist like them.”
He sits beside me with a thoughtful frown and pushes his sunglasses onto his head. “The med school thing again?”
Even though I told him last night, I’m still surprised he remembers.
“She’s signing me up for an MCAT course. No one cares that I don’t want to be a doctor.” The words come out on their own, and it registers somewhere in the back of my mind how easy it is to talk to Dean.
He frowns, and I realize that’s the first time I’ve told someone I don’t want to go to med school. “Well, what do you want to be?”
I’m taken aback. What do I want to be? I want to travel, but then what?
“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that question, not even Faye. Everyone just assumes I’ll go to med school and be a doctor like my parents.”
Dean gives me a sad smile, like I’m missing out on something. “Do you always do what you’re told?”
Yes.
“No.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t!” I defend myself, knowing I’m lying but suddenly wishing I wasn’t.
His sad smile transforms into a mischievous smirk.
“Prove it.”
Prove it? How can I? I always do what I’m told; I hate letting people down.
But looking into Dean’s hypnotizing eyes, bluer than the ocean behind him, suddenly all I can think about is proving it to him, and more importantly, to myself.
TEN
Day Two of Cuba
