Emma
“Well, that was interesting,”I mumble to myself after the guys step into the study room.
“What was interesting?” Glancing behind me, I see my coworker Ava.
“Those guys.” I point toward room 3B.
“The hockey players?”
How did she know?
“That tall, blond one has been here every day this week.”
She’s talking about Eli because the other one has brownish red hair. “He has?”
“Yeah.” She steps up next to me. “Next time he comes, let me sign him in.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “He’s just my type.”
I look over and up at her. She’s a good six inches taller than me. And pretty. Really pretty. “Oh. Okay. Sure.” Looking over toward the study room that now houses Eli and the other guy, a sense of sadness washes over me, because Ava’s right. The two of them would look amazing together. Any fantasies I’ve had about me and Eli Baxter are ridiculous. I need to let them go. “He wants to play in the NFL.”
“You mean the NHL?”
I have to think about what I said versus what she said. “What’s the difference?”
“One is hockey. The other is football.”
“Oh.” I release a short laugh. “Right. It’s the hockey one.”
“I know. I looked him up. Jack Baxter was a goalie for Wisconsin. He was drafted to play for Chicago, but in his very first professional game, he tore something in his knee. He never played again.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” I guess. I mean, it sounds sad. I look back over at Ava. “You looked all that up after you helped Eli this week?”
“I sure did. I did my research. If he and I are gonna get together, I need to know more about him.”
“Sure.” I nod. I get it, even though it bothers me to think about the two of them together. Stepping around the desk like I’m going to do something work-related, I whisper to myself, “Shake it off. Quit living in a fantasy world, Em.” Because there’s no way a guy like that would ever give me a second look.
“You’re talking to yourself again,” Ava deadpans.
“Oops.” I do it all the time. Too much, apparently, if she’s figured that out after only working with me for a couple of days. “Sorry.”
Ava winces. “God, Emma. You’re so weird.”
“I know.” She doesn’t need to say it. I already know.
* * *
“Hi, honey, I’m home,”Carley says after slamming the door shut to our tiny apartment. After stepping into our living room, she flops down next to me on the sofa. “How was your day, dear?”
The girl is funny. She says that kind of stuff all the time. “Fine. And you?”
“Hellish. I had a trig test that I totally flunked.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I would have helped you study.”
“You were busy.”
“You know I would’ve helped you.”
She shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.” I watch as she switches from sitting to lying back on the couch so that, now, my head is on one end and hers on the other. Our legs are overlapping in the middle. “Tell me something good.” She sighs.
