I blushed harder. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not cool.”
“You are! You wear math T-shirts and listen to jazz. You don’t hide who you are. That’s cool.”
But I did hide. I was hiding right now, pretending to be the cool girl with the gamer boyfriend. That was the whole point of being with Daniel. To pretend I wasn’t a mess who was still hurt by everything that had happened with Devin. My entire existence lately was pretending.
“You’re cool, too,” I reassured him. I sounded like a dork, though. I awkwardly took a sip of tea so he wouldn’t see my face.
“I’m just a poor midrange hockey player who can’t do math.”
“Youcando math. You’re doing it right now.” I paused. “What do you meanmidrange?”
He refilled his mug with more tea before speaking. “It means I’m just okay at it. I’m pretty good for my rec team ... maybe even one of the better ones on the team, but that’s actually not a good place to be.”
“Being the best on your team is great!”
“Not really, because people have nothing to compare you to. I’m not good enough for the pros, or hell, even the semipro team. I know that. The coaches know that, but every rando who watches me play only sees me play with my teammates, who are great guys, but not as fast skaters, or not as good at puck handling. Plus, everyone wants the feel-good story—the Filipino hockey player who came from ... Anyway, this is probably my last season.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to have college to pay for, and hockey is expensive.”
Was it? I honestly had no idea. “I’m sure your parents will keep paying after high school.”
“It’s just my mom. And no, she can’t afford it.”
That didn’t seem fair. He should be able to play as much as he wanted. I was about to tell him that when I saw he was looking down at his paper, focused on the problems.
I really shouldn’t be prying into his personal situation anyway. That was his parameter. I refilled my tea and let him finish his work.
“There,” he said a few minutes later. “I’m done. Check my work, Count.”
I slid his notebook over and looked over his calculations. He’d done it perfectly. “This is right,” I said. “See? You can do math. We have time for another one?”
“Nah, I think I got this. I need to get home, anyway.”
As he was packing his books into his bag, I touched his arm. “Thanks, by the way. For ... playing along with Muniba. I know we hadn’t talked about what to tell people here at the shelter, and I know it’s a big ask ...”
He glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening, then smiled at me. “Not a problem at all. You’re my math savior right now. I’d happily tell Taylor Swift that I was dating you if it meant I’d pass calculus. She’d write some song about teenage love and cardigans with combat boots, and it would be amazing. Hey, are you sure you don’t want to go to that girl’s party? You seem kind of torn about it.”
“I don’t know. Everyone will be there, so that would be good. You know, for people to see us. If it went well it could definitely help me win this breakup. But you’re going to have to be a hard-core nerd to be believable. Some of my friends are annoyingly gate-keepery.” Like Jayden. And Omar.
“Then why are you friends with them?”
That was a very good question. I mean, I wasn’t really friends with them. Devin was. And I wasn’t with Devin anymore. I couldn’t answer, so I shrugged.
“Well, anyway, if you want, I think I can pretend to beMr.Countin person,” Daniel said. “At least enough to make these nerd-snobs accept me. It would be great practice for your formal.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think we need to practice for the formal. There won’t be nearly as much talking there. It’s a whole awards ceremony. Then dancing.”
“Hopefully we’ll talk to each other while we dance.” His voice became playful. “Or are you thinking we’ll gaze longingly into each other’s eyes?”
He gave me a look then. A smoldering-eye, lowered-eyebrow, pursed-lips look that was so removed from his normal wide grin that my throat went dry. Oh my god, I would not survive the dance if that’s how he looked at me. Because ... I was pretty sure I was developing a small, tinythingfor Daniel Ramos.
I needed space. I exhaled and picked up my things.
“I need to run, too,” I said. “My mom probably wants me home for dinner.”
“Sure thing. Give me ten minutes and I’ll walk to the bus stop with you.”
