“You do?”
“I do.” She sighs. “But only because you finally pulled your head out of your ass and gave a real apology.”
A breath of laughter escapes me. “I deserved that.”
“Damn right you did.” A ghost of a smile flickers on her face. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook forever.”
“And the ‘Mittens’ nickname?” she asks, testing me.
I wince. “Okay, yeah. Not my finest hour. It started off as a dumb joke. The gloves looked huge, and I thought it was cute. But I can see now it probably felt like... rubbing salt in the wound.”
There’s a pause. Her lips twitch like she’s suppressing a smile.
“But,” I add carefully, “it still kind of suits you. So, no promises on retiring it completely.”
“Doesn't change what happened,” she says finally.
“No,” I agree. “But maybe it shows I wasn't completely oblivious to what you did. Just too self-centered to understand why it mattered to you.”
She nods slowly, then reaches for one of her diagrams.
“So,” she says, turning it toward me. “What do you think about using a modular approach for the sustainable housing units?”
She's actually asking for my input.
It's not forgiveness, exactly. But it's a start.
The following night,I’m at some hockey party with all my friends. The party is in full swing, music pulsing, the air thick with alcohol and too much perfume. I should be having fun.
I usually do. Parties are my natural habitat.
People come up to me—girls, guys, randoms I barely know. Everyone wants to talk, joke, get me to take a shot with them. I love being around people—lots of people—meeting new people and chatting. I get a kick out of it. But tonight, I find myself looking for someone who probably isn’t here.
Delilah.
Which is stupid because this isn’t even her scene. Still, my eyes keep flicking toward the door. Just in case.
“Bro, take a shot with me!” Some guy from my engineering class claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Can’t. Working out in the morning,” I say, shaking him off easily.
“Dude, again? You’re always working out.”
“That’s why I’m bigger than you, bro,” I shoot back, grinning.
He groans and wanders off.
It’s not that I don’t drink—I do. But I don’tneedto all the time. I figured out a long time ago that I can still have fun without it. And if you do a couple shots with people at the start of the semester they’ll still remember you as the fun guy and be a little easier when you turn ‘em down later on.
I can still own a room, still be the guy everyone gravitates toward, still be the one making people laugh.
It’s a skill.
I scan the room again, my gaze landing on Freddie. Or, more specifically, Freddie and Brianna. His old fling beforehe met Alex, so many years ago now, but she won’t give it up. Brianna claims she’s one of Delilah’s best friends. If she’s here then maybe Delilah is too.
Freddie looks bored but polite while Brianna is clearly trying to make something happen.
She’s leaning in, laughing too hard, flipping her hair, lightly touching his arm. It’s a solid effort.
