“Oh, yeah, Reese mentioned you’re really into field hockey,” Davis said. “Have you committed anywhere yet?”
I shook my head. I didn’t really discuss my college prospects with anyone except my family and Coach Webber. Well, and my high school guidance counselor because it was encouraged that she be in the loop. “Not yet,” I told Davis. “Hopefully by the end of the school year, though.”
Becausethatwas when the Ivy League schools made the last of their offers. April through June of a player’s junior year was their sweet spot, and I knew I would be holding my breath for those three months. The University of Pennsylvania—Penn—was mydreamschool. The Quakers were my dreamteam. I loved their city campus and the team’s style of play. I’d gone to their annual summer camp for the last several years, and nearly screamed when I got my first invite to their smaller, more exclusive clinics.
What I was now hoping for was an invitation for an official visit to campus. If a coach wanted you to spend a weekend getting to know the girls on the team?
It was a big deal.
“Do you play any sports?” I asked Davis before taking an anxious sip of my coffee. Was I talking about myself too much? And even if I wasn’t, we needed to shift the conversation away from field hockey. I could go on about it forever, but the bridesmaids had told me it was important to find out if Davis and I had anything in common.
“I played a bunch when I was a little kid,” he said as I chewed and swallowed a bite of muffin. It was a little dry, but still good. “But I wasn’t very good at them, so my parents thought maybe art or music would be more my thing.”
I smiled a little. “And? Are you an artist or musician?”
“I’m the saxophonist in Hun’s band and in their choir. I’m also in a local chamber choir.”
“That’s really cool,” I said. “I like to sing too, but my school’s choral director cut me for my extreme pitchiness.” I shrugged. “So instead, I perform in the comfort of the car.”
“Oh, yeah?” Davis’s eyes shined. “Let me guess—”
I cut him off. “If you say Taylor Swift, I’m going to punch you.”
He chuckled. “You don’t like Taylor Swift?”
“No, no, I do,” I said. “I just think it’s stereotyping to assume every girl on earth is a Swiftie.”
“Fair enough.” Davis smiled, then after a beat added, “Although, as a guy, I am not ashamed to say she’s incredible. I skipped school to get tickets for the Eras Tour two years ago.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope,” he said. “I suffered for seven hours, but thenfinallytriumphed with two tickets. New Orleans, night one. We had to fly down and stay with my cousin, but it was so worth it. My girlfriend lost her mind.”
My spine straightened. Girlfriend? He had agirlfriend? How had Reese not mentioned that?
“Oh.” Davis read the confusion on my face. “No, Mads, I meantex-girlfriend. It’s sort of”—he searched for the right word—“new. I haven’t totally broken the habit yet.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Is that why you need a date to JProm?”
Davis sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I really want to go, but all my friends have girlfriends or are, you know,talkingwith someone, so I’d be the only one going stag.” He paused to sip his drink. “And I know I could just ask one of my friends, but they’re also friends with my ex…” He shook his head. “Hun feels too small sometimes, and everybody knows everybody, and that can get old when it comes to dances. So yes, when Reese texted me about you, I didn’t hesitate.”
My heart flipped.He’s sweet, I thought.He’s really adorable and really sweet.
Maybe the ex-girlfriend thing was a bit uncomfortable, butbesides me, whodidn’thave an ex? I liked talking to him. It was fun and easy.
I didn’t realize my lack of response until Davis grimaced and asked, “Did I blow it?”
“Oh my god, no!” I exclaimed. “No way! I was literally thinking about what a great time we’re going to have together.”
Davis grinned. “You’ll be my date?”
I found myself grinning back. “I’d love to.”
Then, I internally screamed.I HAVE A DATE!
Davis and I talked for another hour, mostly about music. “Youhaveto check out Maisie Peters,” I told him. “I guess she’s technically pop, but definitely has this British rock edge to her music, and she writes all her own songs…”
“Wait, I’veseenMaisie Peters!” he said. “Years ago, when she opened for Ed Sheeran in Philly. I supervised my little sister and her two friends while the parents peaced out for dinner. It was a great concert!”
