“Don’t apologize. I’m so glad you called.”I’m so thankful you trusted me with this, I want to say, but I don’t. “But I do have something to tell you.”
“Does it have to be now? I kind of want to die of embarrassment in the back of your car for the hour drive home.”
“Yeah, about that. I wasn’t home when you called.”
“I was wondering how you got here so fast. I knew it wasn’t because you were speeding, right?”
I chuckle. “Never.”
“Where’s the van?”
We get closer to him. “I didn’t drive here. I…we’re going in that car.”
I point, and she follows my gaze, narrowing her eyes.
Crap. Crap. Here we go.
“Coach Clay?” she asks, not looking at me. Did she even hear what I said? Who is she looking at?
“What?”
“Did you Uber here? Is he your driver?” She points at Holden, and I shake my head.
“Not exactly.”
“That’s—”
She’s interrupted when Holden’s brow furrows as he whispers, “Izzy?”
Izzy? Who’s Izzy?
“Coach, do you work for Uber in your spare time?”
Coach?
Uber?
Izzy?
“Bella, baby, you’re making no sense.”
“Izzy, your name isBella?” he asks her.
“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” I ask finally, because the stare down these two are having has me feeling uneasy.
“Bella, this is my friend Holden. We were, um, running an errand when you called.” The lie tastes like poison on my lips, the same way that my heart sinks when Holden flinches. God what are you doing Natalie?
“Wait? Coach Clay is your friend Holden? The one who fixed the porch?”
“Who’s Coach Clay?”
“I am,” Holden says. “I, um, I coach hockey a couple nights a week, and Iz—Bellais one of my athletes.”
What?
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
“Can we not do this here? This is already the worst day of my life.” She flinches, and I know exactly why. For any teenager, this might have been, but for her, it’s not. She knows it. I know it. And I bet Holden realizes it too.
