“That’s what they call books when they’re still being written.”
She pursed her lips. “So it’s like when my English teacher grades our essays?”
“Something like that. I make sure all the words and punctuation marks are correct and that the story makes sense. Do you like to read?”
“Sometimes. I love the Baby-Sitters Club books. Mom tried to read Harry Potter to me, but one book took like a month for us to read. I like short books.” Her lips pursed as she slid into one of the dining room chairs.
“I like short books too, and The Baby-Sitters Club was always a favorite of mine. But it’s awesome when I love a book so much I never want it to end. Then it’s cool when there are a lot of pages.” I took a seat next to her.
“I guess I could try a longer book if it’s good. Could you pick one for me?”
She loved soccer, and now she wanted me to pick a book for her. This girl knew how to get to me almost as much as her uncle did.
“I would love to. Let me think on it.”
A smile lit up her face.
“And maybe you could come to our house, and we could read it together.”
My stomach sank when I spotted the deep crease on Jesse’s forehead. I wanted to say yes, especially since she was so excited, but the tension in his features as he stared across the table stopped me.
“I’m sure Emily has a full schedule with coaching and working,” Jesse said before I could figure out how to answer. “You can read the book she picks for you on your own and talk to her about it when you see her.”
I was about to protest that it was no trouble, but maybe he’d said no because he didn’t want Maddie getting attached to me in case I wasn’t around after the season was over. It was probably best for me if I didn’t get too invested in them both for that same reason. I didn’t want to stop speaking to Jesse, but I didn’t know what he could handle in the long-term, and from what I could tell, neither did he.
“Dinner is served,” Mrs. Evans sang as she set the lasagna on a hot plate in the middle of the table.
“I’m sorry.” I pushed away from the table. “I forgot the silverware.”
She put a hand on my shoulder and shook her head. “My son will get it. Stay.” She cut a look at Maddie. “You’re our guest.”
My skin prickled when Jesse placed a fork and knife next to my plate, grazing my arm as he moved away. Even if some of mycrazy feelings for Jesse were reciprocated, that didn’t mean he wanted me around on a permanent basis.
I got it and didn’t fault him for it, but it stung all the same.
“Did you know that Emily was a professional soccer player?” Mr. Evans asked Maddie as he set a brick of lasagna on Maddie’s plate.
“Not really.” I shook my head at Mr. Evans. “Just high school and college?—”
“Yes, I saw a video of her playing,” Maddie said, grabbing her fork and cutting into her dinner.
“You did?” I muttered a thank-you to Mrs. Evans when she slid a piece onto my plate, and I peered down at Maddie, too into her dinner to look up.
“Yep,” she mumbled, slurping up the strings of mozzarella on her lips. “Mikayla showed me on her tablet before the game. It’s on YouTube.”
“It is? Wow,” I breathed out and fell back against my seat. “I guess I think of YouTube as after my time.” I laughed, grateful for the change in subject.
“And she was amazing, right?” Mrs. Evans said. “I’d love to see that video.”
“Honestly, so would I,” I scoffed. “Do you remember where on YouTube?”
She crinkled her nose. “I don’t know where she found it. It was a champion game. Mikayla said you can tell because of the flags on the field.”
“She means championship,” Jesse clarified, one side of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. “Because of course it was.”
I rolled my eyes.
“It didn’t look like you at first. Your hair was blond.”
