“Yeah. Figure skating was a solitary sport for me until I moved to pairs. I’m happy you have a team of girls to support you.” I crack open my soda can, the delicious sound of fizzy pop echoing around us. “No one warns you that life doesn't get easier; the challenges change. That's why it's important to surround yourself with people you trust, who love you, and tune out the rest.”
Thea nods in understanding, her shoulders relaxing out of their hiked position. “It’s weird. You made that seem…uplifting?”
I snort. “That might be my favorite compliment ever.”
“Was that a compliment?”
My chest squeezes at the sight of her smile.
“Excuse me.” I toss a napkin her way, and she laughs.
Thea swallows a bite of garlic bread. “So, there were never any…”
“Never what?”
She shakes her head, color creeping into her cheeks. “Boys you liked who liked you, or whatever?”
Against my will, I think of the boy with soft brown eyes and softer lips who knelt beside me when he found me crying. I’d always wished for someone kind who could make me laugh, and who liked being around me.
“I didn't have my first kiss until I was sixteen, and I didn't go on a date until after high school.”
Thea holds her fork up to her mouth, pauses. “Why didn’t you date the guy you kissed?”
“I, um, well—” I stop abruptly to clear my throat. “I don’t know. It didn’t end up working out. He didn’t live near me and—”
She cuts me off. “How did you meet?”
I’ve never talked about my night with teenage Wes Davidson with anyone. Part of me didn’t want to let anyone else in on what had been the most memorable day of my life until that point. The other part of me didn’t know if anyone would believe the story, and I didn’t want to defend it. I didn’t want anyone to say a damn word about it, to ruin it. It was perfect, and it was mine.
“One of my skating tournaments. He was there for his brother. He gave me his phone number, but my phone was stolen in the Newark Airport security line. It hadn’t yet synced my latest action, so his number vanished into the ether.”
Wes never told me his last name, only that his brother was a figure skater. I tried the combinations of his name with every skater from the competition, but came up empty. The inexplicable stroke of luck slipped through my fingers like water, leaving its imprint, but nothing else, behind.
“It was a chance meeting,” I conclude, resting my jaw in my open palm. “Anyway, everything got better for me after high school. It is not true that these are your best years, Thea. The best years are the ones you choose.”
“Hey.” The sound of Wes’s rough voice jolts me.How long has he been listening to us?
Thea tenses in her seat. “Hi,” she mumbles into her plate of food, eyes downcast to hide from him.
Slowly—oh, so slowly—I turn toward the sound that sent goosebumps down my arms. He looks more casual than I’ve ever seen him, in faded light-wash jeans and a form-fitting plain white T-shirt. His hair looks wind-tossed in the best way possible, the tips of his longest strands barely grazing his trapezius muscles. His sun-kissed cheeks stand out stark against his dark beard.
He looksgood.
The thought is far from a recent realization, but I keep trying to ignore it. The longer he holds my gaze, the more I’m starting to wonder why I ever thought staying away from him was a goodidea. Since our unfortunate incident in the parking lot, Wes has only helped me—first with the figure skating lessons gig, and then by hiding me from my father and ex-husband when we were at lunch. He’s grumpy, but, of all people, I shouldn’t hold that against him.
It hurts a little that he doesn’t remember our kiss. I remember because he was myfirst, but for him, I was likely one of many. It was so long ago, I don’t know why it bothers me.
“Where’s Spencer?” I ask to break the tension.
“We took separate cars. Needed the space for the move.”
Wes picks up the most adorable ginger cat, crying for his attention from the countertop. I noticed the litter boxes during my snooping, but these two didn’t make an appearance until their person came home. The ginger cat nuzzles against his chest, while a larger, black one rubs up against his legs, looking up at him with pure adoration. His roughness evaporates as he whispers to the cats while bending down to give love to the one at his feet.
I look away, no longer able to take the sight.
“Spence went home to get his beauty rest since you’re on the iceearly tomorrow,” he adds.
Fucking hell. There goes my ride home.Spencer’s little comments about Wes and me make me wonder if he went home to force us together.
