"You brought lunch for me?"
"My favorite." He holds the bag out.
We find a table in the student lounge near the window. He unwraps both sandwiches and pushes one toward me. I offer to pay him back, but he waves it off.
"We're even for the creatine."
I almost smile. Then I remember why I'm here.
"Tell me what you know about Cody."
He takes a slow bite and chews, watching me. The pause stretches longer than is comfortable. "Not much."
"As in?"
"I didn't know he had a girlfriend." His eyes stay level on mine. "Not until the hallway anyway. When he corrected me."
The air goes out of me quietly.
I take a bite of my sandwich, so I don't have to respond immediately. The bread feels like nothing in my mouth.
"What else?" I ask.
"That he's entitled." He says it the way you'd say someone is left-handed. A fact, not a judgment. "He doesn't ask. He just takes."
I set the sandwich down, feeling on edge. "Give me an example."
He shakes his head slightly. "I think you already know what I mean."
I want to argue. But something stops me — the way Cody's name was apparently never attached to mine on this campus. The way his teammates walked past me as if I didn't exist in his life.
"It sounds like you weren't close," I say.
"We're teammates. We're supposed to know each other's weaknesses." He leans back. "I know his."
I shift in my seat. "Did any of you know anything real about him?"
Something crosses his face — fast, unreadable. "Define real."
"Friends. Girlfriend. What he cared about outside the rink."
He turns his cup slowly on the table. "We knew what he showed us."
I hold his gaze. "And what was that?"
He picks up his sandwich again. "Someone who wanted to be here very badly."
I smile at that briefly, knowing what he means. Cody really wanted to attend UW. I remember the day he told me he got in and got a spot on the team.
I want to get to know him better, so I ask, "Is that what you wanted too?"
He looks at me for a long moment. "He and I are different."
I don't push it. But I feel something shift — like I found a seam, just barely.
He glances at his phone and stands. "I need to go."
"When will I see you again?" The words are out before I can decide whether to say them.
