I didn’t think I was being rude by asking. I was genuinely curious how she decided on majoring in sports psychology.
“People are allowed to change their minds, Sutton. I’ve worked hard the past year and a half to get here. Did you not change your major and decide to go into psychology, too? Just because Minnesota didn’t want you—hockey team and school—and wanted me, doesn’t mean I can’t pursue the career I want?”
“Izzy…I-I didn’t mean it like that. I was only curious.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sorry I’m not the washed-up, injured athlete that’s going to use that to get an internship.” There’s a callous bite to her tone, and an odor that smells a lot like jealousy.
“I’d never do that.”
“Why not? They aren’t going to want you otherwise. Think about it, Sutton. No one ever has just wanted you, there’s always a reason.” Her eyelids are dropped into slits as she glowers at me.
I…I don’t even know what I’m feeling.
No matter what concoction is stirring inside of me, I bite my tongue.
Izzy slides out of the booth. Before leaving, her hands planted on the table, she leans down. “No need to call me when Cooperdumps you. I already know I’m right. Was in high school, am now.”
I don’t watch her go. My gaze frozen to the vinyl in front of me.
My phone buzzes with a message from Elliot. Mindlessly, I swipe it away.
I try to make sense of what just happened. There’s something scratching at the back of my brain. An insistent, maybe left field, thought.
And did he say who?
Thehmmafterward.
Was it her?
Elliot texts me again and I see the time. I have to focus, but that’s next to impossible.
I text Cooper, fully knowing that he should be getting dressed for practice right now; and despite my insecurities telling me she’s right about him.
Tell me I can do this.
Please.
My phone rings immediately, his name and picture taking over the entire screen.
“Sutton baby. What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have texted you. You need to focus on practice, not me.”
He laughs, and it’s like smelling your favorite home-cooked meal. There’s something so familiar and calming about it. I crave to hear it more, taste it coming from his mouth, but he’s over three hours away at his game.
“Have you not realized that I’m always focused on you? Nothing is more important to me than you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” There’s a shuffling of shoes and then a door closing. “What color underwear are you wearing?”
“What?” I gasp.
“Come on. Black or green or purple.”
“White…” I play along.
“The ones with the pink bow in the center,” he whimpers.
