“Yes, sir.”
“When do we start?”
I pull up my phone calendar, focusing on what I can control rather than thinking about the fact I’ll have to go through weeks of being around Cole.
Dad checks a sticky note. “After Thanksgiving. Vic will contact you with the details.”
Cole stands. “I’ll let you finish your lunch. Do you need me to do anything else right now? Set up for tomorrow’s practice or help with player eval?”
“Steve will take care of that. Good work,” Dad says.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Cole’s chin dip a fraction before he leaves the room.
“I’m full. The rest is yours.” I get up, collecting my purse. “Are you staying longer?”
“I’ve got some paperwork to take care of. Thanks for lunch, honey. See you at home.”
“Okay, bye.” I circle his desk to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Cole’s lingering outside Dad’s office when I come out, shoulder braced against the wall. He pops out of his lean with the fluid nimbleness of someone who has trained for so long their athleticism is ingrained in their body. I tamp down on my attraction to it.
I glance behind me before facing him. “Were you waiting for me?”
He slips his hands in the pockets of his coaching jacket and shrugs. “Figured I’d walk you out since I’m done for the day.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
We fall into step together.
“So, skating instructors,” he muses. “I didn’t expect that.”
“It’s not bad. They give us free hot cocoa.”
“I’ve never taught anyone how to skate. Like, in an official class.”
“It’s just the basics, so it’s easy. We’re essentially signed on as babysitters.”
A small laugh escapes me and I beam at him. His steps falter and he reaches out to catch himself on the open door to an equipment room to regain his balance.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He clears his throat and swipes a hand across his mouth when he glances down at me. “Tripped on air, I guess.”
I nod sympathetically. “Been there. Actually, I’ll admit I pretty much live there.”
Cole chuckles. “I remember your personal vendetta against gravity.”
“That sounds way cooler than saying I’m naturally clumsy.” Or that my equilibrium sucks sometimes. I squeeze my hands into fists and fake a jab with a gratified tilt to my lips. “I’m using that from now on.”
I pretend to fight the air and he follows behind me.
“All yours.” Humor and fondness are evident in his tone. He pauses outside when I start to walk in the opposite direction. “Wait, you’re not heading for the lot?”
“I still don’t have a car. I usually walk around town, or get a ride from?—”
I cut off. Shawn let me borrow his when I needed it. That’s out of the question now. It sucks because I’ve gotten used to having it as an option without having to rely on asking my parents or Benson.
“People,” I finish haltingly.
