Which is not a situation I recommend.
Practice starts at nine. By eight thirty, I’ve already made coffee twice and checked my phone six times. I have convinced myself not to drive past Zane’s building“accidentally.”
Growth.
Real growth.
Jake is already in the locker room when I get there. He is lacing his skates with the focused seriousness of someone trying to prove he belongs here.
He glances up when I sit down beside him.
“You look terrible.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“You didn’t sleep.”
“I slept.”
“You blinked slowly for six hours.”
I ignore him. He doesn’t let that stop him.
“So,” he says casually, like he’s asking about the weather.“Zane’s sister.”
I stop tying my skate.
“What about her?”
“You like her.”
“That’s not a question.”
“It didn’t sound like one.”
He shrugs.“Everyone noticed.”
Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.
“Good,” I say finally.“Then I don’t have to explain it.”
Jake studies me for a second.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“That’s new.”
“It’s not new.”
“It’s new for you.”
I don’t answer that because he’s not wrong.
Coach walks in before the conversation can go somewhere inconvenient. He claps once and starts yelling about conditioning like he personally invented skating. It helps the situation for about ten minutes.
Until halfway through drills, when my brain decides to replay the moment Lisa caught the keys I dropped in her lap. The way she stared at them. The way she laughed like she couldn’t believe I was serious. The way she kept them anyway.
