Hoax in One

| 29 |

Dare I say that Tate looked... nervous.

And late.

Tate was rarely, if ever, late.

He looked at Seth sitting across the aisle from me first. His eyes roamed down, over, and up the airplane seats until his eyes found mine. He softened a fraction, like I'd taken away a sliver of his anxiety.

He walked up the aisle and settled into the uncomfortable seat that was too small for him. He stuffed his backpack underneath the chair in front of him before he leaned in and kissed my beaming smile.

My portfolio in my lap was itching to have Tate's eyes on it finally.

"How'd it go?" he asked with a hopeful tone.

"It went amazing," I squealed. "I've been wanting to show you so badly, but I've been in my head about it, and now I just feel at peace that it's over and that it went so great. I should hear tomorrow maybe."

Tate rested his head on my shoulder. "Show me."

I slowly opened the book to show one picture, a small square in the middle of the first page.

"This is the very first picture I ever took."

"Is that your nose?"

"Up my nose," I clarified. "I was two."

"You have the cutest nose." He picked his head up and planted a kiss on it. Then he ran his flat hand over the picture. "I love this."

I turned the page. The photo spread was laid out with multiple pictures of my parents—never showing my dad's face.

"These are pictures over the years of me badly attempting to take pictures of my mom and dad playing tennis and golf." I laughed. "All fuzzy and terrible angles." I ran a finger in a circle over each page, in almost chronological order. "You can see that I get better though."

Tate nodded against my shoulder. "You were still good even at three, four, and five plus."

"Debatable."

"Is that Hawaii?" Tate held his finger over a photo of my dad looking out over a particularly beautiful hole with a stunning ocean view.

"Yeah. Have you played that course?"

"In high school. My family went on a trip there. It was on my dad's list of places he wanted to see." Tate paused, and his eyes clouded. He'd gone back there, remembering something he liked and didn't like at the same time, but then he smiled. "It's funny how we stood in the same exact place. Years apart and not knowing each other. It's strange when you think about it. Is there a word for that?"

"Destiny?" I guessed.

"No, destiny is bullshit," Tate said quickly. "Life is straight up luck and chances."

I raised my eyebrows. "You believe that?" I asked, shocked. "I wouldn't say you just got lucky being as good at golf as you are."

Tate shrugged. "Sure, I work hard, but I have always been naturally good at it. Was it luck that I even picked up a golf club in the first place? Some people have never played. How many people could have been great at something that they never got the chance to discover? We could have never met; gone to different schools or never crossed paths at a school with fifty thousand people. Would I have found someone like you elsewhere? It's all luck and chances."

I studied his face. There was something lurking beneath the surface—something dark—like he thought he'd been too lucky in life and he'd used his all up.

"Let's say it's a happy coincidence then," I offered.

"You're my happy coincidence," he replied with a smile.