I stop and stare at Riley’s name on the screen.
I’ve seen that title a million times before so why is it making my heart beat faster now?
Should I be feeling like this?
It’s so confusing.
Riley sent me the link to the playlist right before I went off to college. She was twelve and I was eighteen, so of course I didn’ttake it any other way than innocently. I also didn’t listen to the playlist for a year and even forgot it existed.
But after my twentieth birthday, I went through my phone, reading all the birthday wishes from friends and fans. The playlist link was right above Riley’s ‘happy birthday’ text that she sent me that year.
I clicked on the link and knew instinctually that I’d have the playlist on repeat. The songs flowed into each other, going from upbeat and motivational to soulful and pensive. All of them spoke to me and I listened to the tracks constantly, reaching for them over the course of my three surgeries and all the painful months of physiotherapy.
From Riley, To Nat.
What if, I don’t know… what if this playlist was a love letter to me? Many of the songs didn’t seem like Riley’s music taste, and I often wondered how a munchkin like Riley would know me and my favorite genres of music so well.
Nat, she was a kid. Chris probably helped her. Don’t be a weirdo.
Wincing, I tap away from the playlist and play some generic hip hop instead.
Riley has been ‘family zoned’.
She doesn’t like me like that.
And I don’t…
Liar.
Fine, Ican’tlike her like that.
As a new-to-me rapper fills my ears, I lift my knee and tuck it against my chest in a deep stretch. My ligaments pinch a bit, protesting the movement, but it’s a discomfort that I’ve gotten used to. I press even further into the pain.
After stretching, I take out my jump rope and start skipping. My physical therapist recommended it as a lightweight workout before getting on the ice.
My thoughts, without permission, turn to Riley. She seemed annoyed with me when I dropped her back yesterday. Is it because she wanted to be set up on a blind date?
I could see how she would be upset that I cut the conversation short. I overstepped my bounds. If Riley wants to be set up on a date, it’s none of my business.
But, as her brother, I should protect her from jerks, shouldn’t I?
Exactly. Cordelia seems nice enough, but who knows what her friends are like? Would they appreciate Riley’s sense of humor? Or her quick comebacks? Or her kindness? Or her ambition and intelligence? Would they judge her for working in a male-dominated industry and try to force her to change to please them?
The thought angers me. Riley is perfect as she is. She doesn’t need to change athingand I will fight anyone who dares to say otherwise.
Twat, twat, twat.
The skip rope whips the ground faster and faster until it becomes a blur around me.
Suddenly, I see a figure in my peripheral.
It’s Bobby.
I didn’t even notice that he put up the Zamboni.
Breathing hard, I pause the music so I can hear him.
“Should you be pushing yourself that hard?” The handyman points to my leg. “I got wind of what happened yesterday. Heard Max was worried.”
