I snorted. “You don’t have the right equipment for me. Besides, flirting requires interest.”
“Good.” He finally moved, sliding into the back seat but stopping short, blocking my way. His smirk didn’t fade. “Then you won’t mind walking to the school. I don’t think it’s far.”
I held my temper and kept my voice down. “Fuck off and move over.”
The driver looked back, grinning. “Everything okay back there?”
Nico’s smile flipped to charming. “Never better. I’m giving my buddy a hard time.”
He slid over, and I climbed in and patted his chest. “No one jokes around like my bestie.”
The driver laughed. “They said you two might be trouble. Buckle up and behave.”
“Aye aye, cap’n,” Nico said. “I’m Nico, and this is Packy. You stuck with us all day?”
“Yes, and I’m Toby. Let me know if you need anything.”
I met Nico’s eyes as the car pulled away. A whole day with him was sure to be a disaster.
While we pulled away from the curb, Nico opened his mouth to say something. Since I didn’t want Toby thinking Nico was in charge, I jumped in. “The people at the league said you’d have some gear for us?”
Toby glanced in the mirror. “I picked it up from the sports supply store on my way to get you. The woman from the leaguetold me to give it to Greater Atlanta Youth Hockey after you leave.”
“Sounds like a good cause,” Nico said.
“Very good,” I said, unwilling to let him have the last word.
Nico glanced at me. “Great, in fact.”
“Su-perb,” I said.
He shook his head. “All right, Paquette. I’ll give you that round.”
Half an hour later, as we pulled into the school’s parking lot, Nico turned toward me and eased his hand across the seat, stopping just short of my leg. “Let’s have fun with the kids, okay? Truce until we’re done here?”
Was he serious?
“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he added.
I nodded once. “Fine. Truce till we leave here.”
Thirty minutes later, after a meeting with the principal, we were in the school gym unboxing the equipment Toby had brought. Nico opened the last box and shook his head. “I’m glad we don’t have to haul this crap around everywhere we go.”
“Aw, poor baby. Worried you might break a nail?”
“Fuck off. You’re the one who always hated carrying your luggage on road trips.” He pulled a face and launched into the stupid imitation he’d always used to needle me, voice going high and whiny: “I hate carrying luggage. It gets soheavy.”
“I never said that.”
“You said it every time we traveled for two years.”
I put the last cone in place and straightened. “Liar. At least I didn’t practice my cellys in front of a mirror like a ballerina before opening night.”
He rolled his eyes. “Good one. Did you rehearse that?”
“I don’t rehearse for you, but I do like annoying you.”
His face flushed. “You are—” He stopped, blew out a breath, and surprised me with a smile. “What are we doing, Pack? We called a truce.”
