Xander scrunches up his nose at the sound of his full name. “So Iwasthe reason,” he insists after a moment of silence. The interior lights have switched off again, leaving us in complete darkness.
“Still with the big ego.”
“Well?”
I sigh when he presses on, closing my eyes for a moment. I wasted a lot of time picturing how the past years would have unfolded had I made a different decision. Playing for the Bats, I might have never suffered last year’s injury because I wouldn’t have been on the ice on that specific night. Instead, I might have sat in jail for smothering Xander in his sleep during our first semester.
Or we could have actually become friends, and that fucking interview would have never happened. But then he would have probably found something else to bitch about.
We also would have played together, and that thought is enough to make my stomach flip.
“My mom thought it wouldn’t be good for Nate’s career if he kept playing on a team with me,” I tell him reluctantly.
“What?! Did she say that to you?”
I squirm in my seat, my gaze wandering outside. A small group of students passes our car, fully clad in forest green and carrying a banner. When they step into the shine of a streetlamp, I can make out the bat displayed on it, wings spread wide and yellow eyes gleaming maliciously.
“Nicko?” Xander probes, his voice unexpectedly soft. I instantly think back on the way he helped me up the stairs of this dorm, calming me down when I freaked out over my knee. In hindsight, my reaction makes me want to hide under the seat.
“No.” I take a deep breath, then push out the rest: “I overheard her talking to Nate one evening. About how he had to develop his own game and stop letting me–”
“Overshadow his play?”
My head snaps up when he repeats the exact same words my mother used.
Xander snorts at my reaction. “Come on, Nicko, no reason to beat around the bush. Everyone knows you’re the better hockey player.Nateknows you’re the better hockey player.”
“Feels wrong to say it,” I murmur. I have no trouble chirping on the ice and smack-talking Xander specifically, but when comparing Nate’s and my game, I always feel like I took something from him.
“It’s just a fact. You’re the better hockey player;he’sthe better person.”
“Do you sweet-talk all your hookups like that?”
Silence falls over us while my words hang in the air, big and suffocating. Way to prove that I haven’t gotten him out of my system. Not when every time he moves, a whiff of that damned citrus smell conjures a personal highlight-reel of our Christmas break. I swear the interior of the car has gotten about twenty degrees hotter, and I wish he would get out already.
“Just the ones I can’t stand,” Xander finally responds. His voice is barely above a whisper now, amusement laced through his words.
When I don’t have anything to say in return, he reaches over the console, a hand coming to rest on my bad knee. He squeezes gently, and I hold my breath. All our touches so far have been pulls and shoves, either angry or needy, but always impatient, always rushed. He has never put his hand on me in this careful manner, at least not when he was fully aware of my identity.
“So you thought you would achieve what exactly? Give Nate room to develop as a player? Spare him the direct comparison to you?”
“Something like that,” I grumble. I can’t think with his hand on my knee, not when I’m so laser focused on keeping still while a soft warmth spreads up my right thigh.
“And I guess you didn't consult him before making that decision?”
“No.”
“Obviously not, because why would you?”
My sight has gotten used to the dark, so I’m very aware of him rolling his eyes at me. “There are no creative writing or literature classes at Bonham Tech. He couldn’t have just gone there; he would have had to choose a college out of town,” I explain as I let my hands sink into my lap. My fingers are still wrapped tightly around the keychain so I won’t get tempted to reach for him.
“He wouldn’t have done that,” Xander concludes after a moment, his brows drawn together. Usually that is enough to set me off, but right now it only makes me want to smooth out his forehead with my fingertips.
“No, he wouldn’t have done that to me,” I croak out. Nate has always been way more independent than me. He would have easily thrived a thousand miles away from Bonham. But he would have never left me behind.
“So if I didn’t want to fuck things up for him, that was the only solution. And look at him now! He’s going to be with the Pioneers next season, while I–” I clamp my mouth shut just in time, before more truths tumble out.
Xander gives me a funny look, then opens his own mouth only to close it again. Neither of us says anything for a while, but he also doesn’t pull his hand back. It’s still resting on my knee, his thumb rubbing a small circle onto my sweatpants. The look in his eyes is absent, so I’m not sure he realizes what he’s doing.
