"Good. Honesty. I like it." He sat up, offering me a hand. "Come on. Shower time. And then we're picking your outfit whether you like it or not."
The locker room was chaos as usual—guys peeling off gear, arguing about whose turn it was to buy lunch, Pickle attempted to convince someone to watch a true crime documentary marathon at his place.
I sat at my stall, the seconds ticking away.
12:41. One hour and nineteen minutes.
My phone sat in my jacket pocket. I watched the fabric shifting slightly, like it was breathing. Waiting.
From his office doorway, Coach watched me stare at my jacket. He didn't say anything. Just looked, then went back inside.
"Just check it," Evan said, appearing beside me half-dressed. "You're going to anyway."
"What if he canceled?"
"Then you'll know. Not knowing is worse."
He was right. I pulled out my phone, bracing for disappointment.
One new message.
Rhett:Still good for 2?
I exhaled. He hadn't canceled. He was asking if I was still good, like maybe he was nervous too.
My thumbs moved before my brain could interfere.
Hog:Yeah. Still good.
I stared at what I'd written. Safe. Neutral. Gave nothing away.
Jake leaned over my shoulder. "That's it? That's your response?"
"What else am I supposed to say?"
"I don't know—literally anything with emotional content. Can't wait. Been thinking about you, too. A single emoji."
"I don't do emojis."
"You don't do vulnerability, you mean."
I looked at the message again. Before I could talk myself out of it, I deleted what I'd written and typed something else.
Hog:Yeah. Been thinking about it since midnight.
Truth. Simple and terrifying. I hit send.
The response came so fast my phone buzzed while I was still staring at it.
Rhett:Good. Me too.
And then, before I could spiral about what that meant:
Rhett:See you in an hour.
"He said an hour," I told Jake, my voice coming out strangled.
"I can count." Jake grabbed my shoulders. "Okay. New plan. You shower. Actual shower. With soap. Then we pick clothes that don't scream 'I own nothing but hockey gear.' Then you go to Common Thread and talk to the guy like a human being instead of a panic attack with legs."
