“Today is doing suspicious work in that sentence.”
I smiled despite myself and leaned back against the headrest. “How’s school?”
“Expensive. Full of nineteen-year-olds who think Nietzsche is a personality. My roommate has started making overnight oats in mason jars, so I’m considering moving into the library.”
“You love the library.”
“I love quiet. Different thing.”
I heard people talking in the background, a door closing, then her voice got clearer. “You sound weird.”
“I said six words.”
“Yeah, and none of them were at the wrong volume. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Liar.”
“I had practice.”
“You always have practice. You usually sound like you’re trying to outrun bees afterward.”
I rubbed at my forehead. “New coach is just... different.”
“Different good or different I need to fly to Denver and commit a felony?”
“Please don’t commit felonies. You’re terrible at secrets.”
“I am excellent at secrets. I never told Dad about the mailbox.”
“That mailbox attacked me.”
“You backed into it while yelling at a drive-thru speaker.”
“I was under pressure.”
“You were ordering nuggets.”
Warmth spread through my chest, easy and familiar. Harper was the only person who could make me feel like a dumbass and loved in the same breath.
I looked through the windshield at the arena doors. “He asks clear questions.”
“Who, Coach Different?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the big revelation?”
I picked at a loose thread on my hoodie. “People usually ask why I can’t just do stuff the normal way. He asked what helps.”
Harper was quiet for once.
Then, softer, “That is different.”
I swallowed and hated that my throat felt tight over something so small. “Don’t make it a thing.”
“I’m not.”
