“It means they don’t trust us,” I say mildly.
“They trust you,” she counters. “You’re the golden child.”
I snort. “You should’ve seen me at nineteen.”
She smiles at that. “Still. They listen to you.”
I don’t say anything, just sip my milkshake and let the moment pass.
For a little while, I get to be just Ollie. Not a rookie. Not a headline. Just a big brother with too much food on the table and a sister who looks at him like he hung the moon.
We linger at the diner longer than we should. It feels rare to sit in one place without checking the time every few minutes, so I’m lapping it up. Josie and Kylie slide into that comfortable rhythm of gossip and observation, trading looks, while Lindy leans against my side like she did when she was twelve. I let her. I always do.
“So,” Josie says, spearing a fry and pointing it at me, “does it feel different yet?”
“Different how?” I ask.
“Like,” Kylie jumps in, “do you wake up and think, ‘Holy shit, I’m a League player now’?”
I consider that. “Not really.”
Lindy snorts. “He wakes up and thinks, ‘Holy shit, I have to prove I deserve to be here again today.’”
I glance at her. “You’ve been reading my diary?”
She smiles, all teeth and affection. “You don’t have a poker face.”
“That’s slander,” I say.
She shrugs. “It’s observation.”
Josie grins. “She’s not wrong.”
I shake my head, but there’s no annoyance in it. This is easy. Familiar. These girls knew me before any of this, when thebiggest thing in my life was whether I’d passed my last midterm or made the starting lineup. There’s comfort in that kind of history.
Fries disappear steadily from the basket between us. Lindy’s milkshake is already half gone. Across the table, Josie and Kylie have their phones out, shoulders pressed together, thumbs flying like they’re working on something important.
I point at them with my fork. “This is what college has done to you.”
Josie looks up. “What?”
“Constant scrolling,” I say. “At home, Mom would’ve smacked the phone out of your hand.”
Lindy snorts. “Please. She’d have just sighed really loudly and said she was disappointed.”
“Which is worse,” I add.
Kylie laughs and locks her phone for half a second. “We’re multitasking.”
“That’s not multitasking,” I say. “That’s gossip.”
Kylie grins, already turning the screen back on. “Exactly.”
“Oh my God,” Josie says suddenly.
Kylie peers at Josie’s phone and sucks in a sharp breath. “No. Way.”
Lindy straightens immediately, interest piqued. “What?”
