The passenger door opens suddenly, letting in a rush of cold air, and Rodriguez slides in, moving carefully because of the knee brace.
“Hey,” he says. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem.”
He buckles his seatbelt, and I realize I’m actually doing this. I’m actually spending the afternoon with Rodriguez, who I’ve been avoiding for months. My hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“So,” he says. “Coffee first?”
“There’s a place two blocks from here.”
“Lead the way.”
The coffee shopis one of those extremely hip places with exposed brick and mismatched furniture and a chalkboard menu that takes up an entire wall. I think for a split second that he’s hitting on the barista before he introduces her as his teammate Anderson’s daughter, and launches into a conversation with her about her college classes. His voice is easy, genuine, the same way he talks with everyone apparently.
We order and find a table by the window. I wrap my hands around my cup, letting the heat seep into my fingers.
“So,” he says, wrapping both hands around his cup the same way I am. His fingers are long, callused at the tips. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised you said yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve rejected me three times now.”
“You were keeping count?”
“I was definitely keeping count.” He’s smiling, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. My stomach does this flip. “What changed?”
I should lie. Should say something about it beingconvenient, about heading the same direction anyway, about it not being a big deal.
Instead I hear myself say, “My boyfriend broke up with me. After he cheated. For four months.”
His eyebrows go up. “You had a boyfriend.”
“For three years. It was long distance, but yes.”
“Oh.” He sits back in his chair. “Oh. Okay, that—that explains so much actually.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly on one side. He looks genuinely relieved, like everything finally makes sense.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you just found me incredibly annoying. Which, fair. I am annoying. But this makes way more sense now.” He’s grinning, his whole face lighting up in a way that’s almost infectious. “I was getting a complex about it. Like, is my face offensive? Is it the hair? Does she just hate hockey players in general?”
“It wasn’t you.”
“I mean, it was a little bit me. I was pretty persistent.”
“You brought me coffee I didn’t ask for.”
“After learning your order from eavesdropping on you talking to Jake. Which in retrospect was super creepy.”
“Very creepy.”
“But also kind of sweet?”
“No. Just creepy.”
He laughs, and the sound is warm and unguarded. “Okay, I deserved that. So what happened? With the boyfriend?”
I take a sip of my latte, buying time to figure out what to say. “He broke up with me. Long distance didn’t work out.”
