“Really?” Luka asks, leaning forward. “What’s your . . . thing, then?”
I twirl spaghetti onto my fork.
“I watch golf in the locker room, and tape my stick the same way every game.”
“That’s not superstition,” Luka says as he finishes off the last of the spaghetti on his plate. Wow, he ate that fast. I guess he liked it.
“They could be,” I reply.
“No, you watch golf because you don’t want to see predictions from any of the sports reporters on who’ll win or how they think a team or player will play, and you tape your stick that way because you’ve spent years trying out different patterns and find it works best for your hand grip and at the other end, the control and spin of the puck.”
How does he know that?
“Is that really why?” David asks.
“Yeah, I guess, but how did you know that?” I ask.
“You’re Reid Raines. Any hockey kid dreaming of a life like yours would know that.”
“Aww, were you a fan?” Benji asks in a sickly sweet voice.
“Always,” Luka replies matter-of-factly, and it brings a warmth to my chest.
“You are pretty epic out there,” Benji adds, and then the conversation shifts to Banana Ball. I leave them to it and head into the kitchen to get the ice cream out to soften.
The boys take their dessert to their rooms, and Luka goes to sit on the stool at the counter, but I jerk my head toward the back door for him to follow me.
The sky out tonight is clear, and the cold air hits the second we’re through the door, but both of us are used to the cold.
My back yard is one of the biggest on the block, and large trees my grandfather planted as saplings border the entire space, making me almost forget that we even have neighbors. An even bigger oak tree is centered along the back tree line and holds the tree house my fatherand grandfather built together when my dad was a boy. Down the front of the tree trunk, boards are nailed into it to create a ladder that moves higher up the trunk as the tree grows over the years. I sit on the old porch swing and lean back, looking up at the night sky.
“We can talk out here. The boys will be up in their rooms for most of the night now.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Luka asks, sitting beside me. He nudges the swing into a slow rhythm and pops a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
I turn to him blankly. “Really?”
“Just kidding. Soooo, we hooked up, and now you want to tell me it was a mistake, right?” he asks.
“Is that what you think? Is that why you left?”
He shakes his head. “I wanted to come back the second I walked out the door.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I ask, gripping my bowl of ice cream in hopes it will help steady my nerves.
He shrugs. “I figured that was even weirder than leaving in the first place.”
“So you don’t regret it?” I ask, my pulse quickening.
“I’m sorry if that’s what I made you think,” he says as he lays his hand on my thigh. A rush of warmth rises to where his hand is and then spreads through my whole body.
“I guess I didn’t really know what to think. It’s not like I’ve ever been in this situation before.”
“So your brothers were right? You don’t date?”
“No. And until you came along, I thought I was okay with that.”
“And now?”
