There was a stack of printed out informational pages from college websites, and articles, and the internet in general on the couch when I got out of the shower after a day of work. I frowned, peering at the very thick packets of paper that someone had taken the time to staple together. Once I read the headings at the top of each page, I knew instantly who had put them there. I groaned, gathering it all up in my arms, and marched down the hallway.
"Couldn't help yourself could you?" I said wryly, leaning against Sophia's doorframe.
She rolled up a pair of socks, refusing to meet my eye. "Hmm?" she feigned innocence.
I folded my arms, unimpressed, "Randall..."
"I'm not sure what you're referring to," she sniffed primly, drawing her shoulders back.
I held up the sheets and sheets of paper, arching an eyebrow, "So you know nothing about these?"
"Why would I?" she replied airily, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
I rolled my eyes. "Sophia."
"Jake." We had a silent stare off for a few seconds, her gaze level with my own.
"I told you not to get involved," I shook my head, sighing. "C'mon, Randall. We have one conversation about how I liked detectives when I was a kid and you print out all this shit?"
Finally, she relented. "I know you told me to stay out of it, but—"
"Oh, you did hear me then?" I interrupted, slightly exasperated.
"Jake, you should've seen your face light up when you were talking about being a detective," Sophia said earnestly. "It is a real possibility. Especially for you."
"Sophia..."
"And there are so many options," she continued eagerly. "There are great forensic science programs, and criminology is a whole other field. Many places are still taking applications for these specialty programs if you're already accepted to the college, which I think are really..."
"Sophia," I interjected once again, trying to regain control of the conversation.
"Saying my name is not going to shut me up," she retorted stubbornly. "Please, just look at them."
"Sophia..."
"And don't tell me to stay out of it because I won't," she cut me off firmly.
"Evidently," I muttered under my breath. Apparently it didn't matter how many times I told her not to get involved, that it was none of her business, Sophia was a woman undeterred.
"I want to help," she pleaded.
"What if I don't need help?" I questioned, a hint of vulnerability in my voice.
"Too bad," she replied, hands on her hips. "Believe it or not, I care about what happens to you, so please promise me you'll at least look at them."
"You care about me?" Both of my eyebrows shot up to meet my hairline, pleasantly surprised at this admission.
"No— I didn't—" she started, cheeks pink as she stumbled over her words.
"I care about you too," I interrupted quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. My heart swelled as I locked eyes with her, something inside of her seeming to soften. Almost like she could feel what I was feeling. Like maybe I had a chance. Her mouth parted slightly, and I could my heart thudding in my ears.
Sophia fidgeted with the gold chain around her neck, a sure sign she was flustered. She bit her lip. "Just look at them," her lashes fluttered slightly. "For me?"
YOU ARE READING
Destination Reached
Teen FictionOne plane ride could change your life. SOPHIA RANDALL likes her routines. She plans everything, down to the very last second. And Sophia is content to stay in the radius of her hometown in Brookline, Massachusetts forever and ever. Change is not a w...