Her focus doesn’t waver from whatever she’s working on. Sutton’s computer is to her right, a notebook to her left. She’s tapping a pen to a beat against her color-coordinated notes.
Inhaling, I give myself a moment to compose myself.
I fail.
The same weird waves of uncertainty and doubt crash over me.
I should have pushed Coach for more details.
Sutton drops her pen. It rolls off the table. She turns and bends down to reach it at the same time I drop to my haunches to pick it up.
Hazel eyes flare wide, parallel to mine.
My gaze flicks to her throat and her slow swallow.
“Th-thanks,” she stutters, taking the pen from my hand. Sutton straightens, back stiff.
I stand and walk around the table to the chair opposite her. My hands curl around the top.
“What are you doing here?” she bites out. “You need to leave. I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
“I know.” My eyes bounce to her notebook, to her, back to the notebook—picking out a few bullet points on stress and sports—and then back to her. “I’m the someone.”
“What?” So she didn’t know it was me. “I’m meeting a student-athlete who’s supposedly struggling with—” Sutton stops speaking. Picks her chin up, and recognition registers all over her. “You?”
“Me.” I nod.
Sutton bursts out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“Yeah, right. Come on, Cooper. This isn’t funny.”
“You’re the one laughing, Dave.”
Her eye twitches at the nickname.
“You just can’t let me have one thing, can you? Is this supposed to be a joke?”
“I didn’t know it was your project.”
“I find that hard to believe. You always do this.” The whites of her eyes show. “You’re telling me you, mister golden boy, captain of the hockey team, is supposedly struggling with stress and anxiety?”
My eyelids flutter.
I pull off my beanie in an attempt to cool off.
This means Coach knows, must have mentioned it in his response.
“Yeah.” My voice is unsteady. “Surprise.”
I can’t tell if Sutton believes me. Her facial features are stoic. Jaw slowly dropping open, and it sort of feels like I’m the animal on display at the zoo.
Before she has a chance to respond, I take off.
I’ll tell Coach I can’t do this. Ask one of my roommates if they can work with her. Find another team captain.
I don’t know, but it can’t be me.
It already hurts that the girl I love hates me.
