Macy falls silent, then she bumps me back just before there’s a loud whoop behind us. I turn in surprise to see Jack running at a full sprint towards us.Speak of the devil.He’s managed to attract the attention of everyone else walking as well.
Jack has a wide smile on his face and doesn’t slow down until he skids to a stop right before me, his arms wrapping around me as he spins me, backpack and all.
“Jack! What the hell are you doing?” I shriek, holding onto him.
I’m laughing when he sets me down on the ground. “I got my grade back,” he says, sounding only a little out of breath, but his eyes are sparkling.
“And?”
I’m assuming it’s good news based on his mood. How long was he running around? Was Jack just going to keep going until he found me?
“I got a fucking eighty-one!”
The smile on his face is brilliant and contagious.
“Jack, that’s great. I knew you could do it,” I say, my smile growing from the pure joy radiating from him.
His arms fold around me, pulling me into another hug, and then I’m swung again, laughter slipping from both of us. “It’s not great, it’s a miracle,” Jack says, and I hate that he’s been made to feel like he’s less than because of his dyslexia.
Macy is laughing at us once I’m back on solid ground, and I adjust the straps of my backpack on my shoulders from where they’ve slid out of place. “That’s Al—a miracle maker.”
“Celebrate with me tonight,” he blurts out, and I’m not sure I could say no even if I wanted to.
“Is that a question?” I tease, and his cheeks pink.
“No.”
“What kind of celebration?” I ask, anticipating it not to be Twin City now that I know he doesn’t drink. Jack reminds me of an onion, having to peel back each layer back to learn more about what lies beneath the pretty exterior.
Jack’s dimples are out in full force, his eyes crinkled with happiness. It makes my pulse race. “It’s a surprise. Dress warm and comfortable. I have to go to practice, but I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“What do you have planned?” I feel like I should be worried, but I’m not.
“You’re not the only one allowed to have secrets.” He winks before letting go of me. I shake my head at Jack, watching him walk away for a moment before turning back to Macy.
“Yeah, you don’t stand a fucking chance of staying just friends with Jack,” she muses, before another gust of wind sends her long hair into her face.
She’s wrong. That’s not how it is between us. I roll my eyes and brush off her comment, but the smile on my face lingers.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, climbing into Jack’s truck, smiling at the sound of the radio humming in the background with a country station playing. It’s older and worn, but I like that it isn’t flashy and new. The inside is clean, and it’s clear he takes care of it, but it’s simply another one of those layers to peel back.
“You’ll see,” he says, shifting gears while I get buckled.
“Am I dressed warm enough for whatever it is you have planned?” I ask, causing him to peek in my direction. I went with a thick sweater, a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks, and a pair of Birkenstock clogs. I held out for the longest time on getting them before I finally cracked and asked for a pair last Christmas. I practically live in them once the temperature starts to drop.
Jack glances at me and nods. “Yeah, you should be good.”
Where could he possibly be taking me? The things I know about Jack tell me he’s a nice guy I feel safe alone with—which is honestly enough for me—but there’s a lot of gaps in what I don’t know, and I have no clue where he’d take me to celebrate his score. “What are some things you like to do in your free time?” I ask, turning in my seat to watch him as the glow of the dash and the passing streetlights cast shadows over the edges of his face.
He chuckles under his breath. “I’m not telling you where we’re going. You’ll find out in a few minutes.”
“Rude.” I stick my tongue out at him. “I was asking because I want to get to know my friend better.”
“My whole world revolves around hockey. I don’t have a whole lot of time to do other things, so I guess it’s a good thing hockey is what I like to do when I have free time,” he says, and I understand because I used to spend every spare second either on the ice or thinking about skating.
“What about during the summers?” I ask, pushing further because there’s got to be something more.
Jack sighs, tapping the steering wheel as he shifts gears with ease. “I work in manual labor in the summer, but I spend the rest of my time with my momma.”
