Two words. Simple. But they land like a slap, because of course, he knows. If Cody had, we would have seen me.
Heat crawls up my neck. "Right."
"Meet me for lunch today."
The eagerness in my response comes out before I can shape it. "Really? Okay."
He adjusts his gear bag. "I'll text you."
He walks off. The rest of the team files out behind him, past me, through me, like I don't exist.
Did Cody ever mention me at all?
None of the guys seems to recognize me.
The question follows me out into the gray morning.
My phone buzzes during a conversation with my professor after Political Theory — a required course I didn't choose, in a major that wasn't my idea. I silence it and keep nodding while she tells me how much I'm going to love UW.
Outside, I check the screen.
Beckett: Still in class?
I call him.
"Where are you?" he asks.
"Just got out. I live at Elm Hall — we can meet there."
A beat. "Inviting me over already?"
I stop walking.
There's something in the way he said it. Casual, but pointed. Testing something. I stand on the pavement and let the silence run for a moment longer than feels comfortable. A shiver runs down my spine.
"I'll meet you there," I say.
The call ends.
I stand for another second, Maeve's voice surfacing in my head — the asshole on Nob Hill — before I start walking again.
I called her after their practice ended. I told her about Beckett at my car window, how he gave me his number, and he invited me to practice this morning. I also told her how the team walked past me like I was furniture, not even recognizing me.
"You can't keep talking to this guy," she said.
"Why not? He's been helpful."
"He was a dick at the party, Adela. Now he's suddenly your guide to campus life? That's suspicious."
I sighed. "You're still upset I moved."
"Of course I am! Cody is in the hospital, and you've completely—" She stopped. "I'm worried. That's all."
I told her not to be. I told her he was nice. I ended the call before she could say anything else that I'd have to sit with.
Walking to Elm Hall now, I wonder if I should have listened to her.
He's already there when I arrive. Hood up, one hand in his pocket, paper bag in the other. Something about the way he's standing makes me think he's been there for a while.
