“I—the first ones. You’ve gone above and beyond, you definitely don’t need to read it, but also…I don’t usually show people what I write.”
“Nobody?”
“My mom reads everything once it’s not the worst thing ever, and I had a friend I used to trust with it, but other than my brothers stealing my notebooks when I was younger, people don’t usually read it.”
“That changes when you publish. You know that, right?”
“Once it’s good enough,” she agrees, but I’m not sure she’ll ever think it is, and I hate that.
“I think learning how to skate will help you. Unless he’s a robot, your hockey player will love the ice, and I can show you that. I’m an excellent teacher.”
“Why are you pushing so hard for this?” She looks almost skeptical. Like I have some evil ulterior motive, which would make sense if I was allowing myself to try to get into her pants, but she’s too close to friends and feelings territory.
“Because I’m invested in this, Savannah. I selfishly enjoy helping people discover their love of skating.”
“There’s nothing selfish about teaching your sister and her friends to play hockey.”
“Debatable,” I argue. “Is this a yes?”
“Would you take a no?”
“If you had a much better reason than not wanting to inconvenience me. Maybe.”
“I can take Izzie to more games. Or practices, whatever she wants.”
“That’s not—” why I’m doing this, I want to tell her, but why the hell am I insisting on spending more time with her? I’m just leading her on to what will likely hurt her in the end, yet I really don’t like the idea of not seeing her again.
She looks at me, really looks at me, in my eyes, like she can hear what I’m not saying, but also like she doesn’t believe it, and at first, I wonder what I did wrong, but then I want to know who hurt her, and made her think she wasn’t worth it unless they got something in return.
“I’ll probably need to do more research, and she’s good at filling in my blanks. If she wants.”
“I’ll ask her and let you know.”
“I have errands to run, so I’ll just walk home. But thank you for today. The game, this…it was nice.”
I say nothing as she goes to Izzie and I assume tells her she’s leaving, because she gets a big hug and then she’s gone. I watch her, wondering why I didn’t tell her I felt the same, and know I’m in trouble.
Chapter Twelve
Savannah
I’ve Got You
I’m studying in the library on Wednesday, rewarding myself with fifteen minutes of writing after every textbook chapter, when my phone buzzes. I assume it’s the family text group, where Mom is trying to coordinate thanksgiving, but it’s Noah.
Noah
What are you up to tonight?
My heart hammers in my chest, even after I remind myself he’s not interested in me, or dating, so it’s probably to watch Izzie. I consider lying and pretending I have friends, but decide to be vague instead.
Me
Was studying.
Noah
Do you need to keep doing that, or can I steal you away for a couple of hours?
