After my plate is full, I grab some water and then turn toward Pacey’s table. His back is to me, and I’m not even sure he realizes I walked into the room.
This is it. Either I could sit somewhere else and let there be a break between us, or I could close the gap and continue to mend my friendship.
On a deep breath—and a hope and a prayer he doesn’t kick me across the room—I head over to his table. I leave a chair between us, so we’re not shoulder to shoulder, but not too much room so it looks like I’m avoiding him.
When I set my plate and water down, his eyes glance away from his phone, and he meets my gaze. I steel myself for him to tell me to fuck off, but instead, he sets his phone down and leans back in his chair.
“Did you see the Freeze lost one to five last night? Clemens apparently forgot how to goaltend.”
Is he . . . uh, is he talking to me?
I want to look behind me to make sure no one walked in when I wasn’t paying attention, but then again, his eyes are on mine, which means he must be talking to me.
Play it cool, man.
Don’t mess this up.
“I did,” I answer. “An absolute upset that works in our favor.”
“Not just an upset, a blow to the ego.” He leans forward. “They lost to the Rockets, the second-worst team in the league. And not just lost, but lost bad.”
I chuckle. “Karma is a real bitch, isn’t it?” I allude to what Gasper did, hoping it’s not going to stir trouble, but when Pacey laughs and nods, I know we’ll be just fine.
“Yeah. The dickhead can’t quite hold his head high at the moment, can he?”
“Not so much.” I scoop a forkful of eggs, and before I bite into them, I say, “Your sister threw up in my shoes.”
His brow raises. “What exactly are you talking about?”
I swallow and lean in closer. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone because, well, she threw up in a shoe, but I feel like I need to explain to you why we probably lost that game to the Freeze. Because I didn’t have the right gameday shoes, because your sister threw up in them. And before you start worrying, it was the one and only time she’s thrown up, and I made sure she was okay.”
The corner of Pacey’s mouth twitches.
His finger drums on the table.
And then he chuckles.
He actually fucking chuckles.
The vise that’s gripped my chest loosens once again. The clouds start to part, the fog lifts, and for the first time since we found out Penny was pregnant, I feel like I can see my friend again.
He lifts his water to his lips and says, “Good for her.”
“Good for her?” I ask incredulously. “You’re happy she threw up in my shoe?”
“Seems like something you deserved.”
“Dude.” I level with him. “Those were the game-time shoes. No one deserves that kind of abuse.”
“You got her pregnant, which in return is the cause of her throwing up. Therefore, I’m pretty sure you deserved it.”
I lean back in my chair, water glass in hand. “Well, when you put it like that.”
He laughs some more and then grows serious. “How are things with Penny? She hasn’t spoken to me much, and I don’t blame her. She hasn’t spoken to our parents much either because I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding telling them. I fear she’s alone, and I know I created that for her with the way I reacted.” He scrubs his hand down his face. “About that.” He winces. “Winnie has been a persistent voice in my ear about how you can’t take time with those you love for granted. And how I wouldn’t want an unresolved rift between us . . . you know, should something happen. And, now that I’ve cooled off, I realize how badly I’ve handled the entire thing.” His eyes meet mine. “Even with you.” Winnie would know, having lost her mom not long ago.
“Dude, don’t worry about me. We’re cool. I probably would have had the same reaction as you. I’m just glad we’re looking at each other. I missed staring longingly into your eyes.”
“You are so fucked in the head.”
