“It’s a flannel.”
“Exactly.Effort was made.”
I laughed and stole a bite of his curry before thinking better of it as my mouth suddenly burst into flames and I thought a baby dragon was hatching on my tongue.I scrambled for the water.My mouth settling as one of Dante’s lesser levels of hell.
“How do you eat that?”I asked between gasps.
“I put it in my mouth and chew.”
“Dear God, Austen.How do you have any tastebuds left after eating that stuff.”
He shrugged.
February arrived with a cold snap and a schedule that made my head spin.
“Boston,” Harper announced at Monday practice.“Northeastern.Saturday.This is the big one, people.Scouts confirmed.I want everyone sharp.”
I tapped my posts and tried to focus.The game mattered.The scouts mattered.Everything I’d worked for was converging on one weekend in a city I’d never much liked.
That night, Austen mentioned his own news.
“I got accepted,” he said, not looking up from his laptop.“The symposium.Northeast Regional Mathematics.”
“That’s great.”I set down my protein shake.“When is it?”
“February fourteenth through sixteenth.In Boston.”
I stared at him.“We’re playing Northeastern on the fifteenth.In Boston.”
He finally looked up.“That’s… coincidental.”
“We’ll both be in the same city.”
“It appears so.”He pushed his glasses up.“I doubt our schedules will align, though.You’ll have the game, and I’ll be presenting, and—”
“But we’ll be there.At the same time.”
“Theoretically.”
I grinned.The idea was absurd—both of us in Boston, moving through the same streets, breathing the same air.
“We should try to meet up,” I said.“After the game.Or before your presentation.Something.”
“The logistics seem complicated.”
“When has that stopped us?”
He considered this.Then, slowly, he smiled.“Fair point.”
“Valentine’s Day weekend in Boston,” I said.“Could be worse.”
“Could be significantly better if we were in the same location for more than five minutes.”
“We’ll figure it out.”I crossed the room and kissed the top of his head.“We always do.”
He leaned into me, laptop forgotten.“Your optimism is statistically unfounded.”
“And yet.”
