“Judging from your silence, it sounds like you’re not sure. And that’s okay—you have other shit to worry about.” Dad’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a buzzer at the end of a game.
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring out the window, my breath fogging up the glass.
He keeps blabbing about keeping my head in the game, not letting distractions get in the way of the season, shit like that. About how I need to push harder, be smarter, work out more.
I nod along, half listening. “Noted.”
Honestly, I’m sick of being talked at. Especially when my brain is not on hockey. I continue staring out the window, my thoughts on her.
On Harper.
She’s messing with my head.
The thing is—before this prom-blackmail-mascot shit—when I had a hard-on for Maddie, chasing her felt like a goal. Achallenge.Something I wanted because I knew I couldn’t have it. Something everyone else wanted, too.
With Harper…it’s different.
She’s not out of reach—she’sright there.
Always has been.
For some reason that feels scarier.
Dad clears his throat like he knows I’m completely checked out. “You done brooding?”
“I’m not brooding.”
“Right.” He smirks, shaking his head. “Well, whatever’s going on in that head of yours, figure that shit out. If you keep overthinking all the bullshit you’ve got going on, you’ll get in your own way.”
I frown. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
“It means quit acting like you’ve got all the time in the world,” he says simply. “You don’t.”
That pronouncement sits weirdly in my chest.
I know he’s not talking about girls—he’s talking about hockey.Obviously.
But for some reason, itfeelslike he’s talking about girls.
My knee is bouncing as I stare out the window. “I get it, Dad. Focus, don’t screw up, don’t waste time—message received.”
He grunts. “Good. Then you won’t waste time second-guessing yourself.”
“I’m not.”I am.
Dad turns into our neighborhood, slowly passing mailbox after mailbox. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he concedes. “And I don’t need to.” He pulls into our driveway, puts the SUV in park, then turns to face me. “But if you do nothing, don’t be pissed when the choice gets madeforyou.”
Wise words.
Annoying words.
I grab the small duffel at my feet, push the car door open, andstep into the night air. The house is mostly dark, just the kitchen light glowing through the window. My dad disappears through the garage door, but I linger on the driveway for several moments, staring up at the sky.
I used to think girls were simple. You flirt. You made a move.
But this?
None of this is simple.
