Page 52 of The Do-Over Girl

“Hate’s a strong word.” He tries to squelch it, but his dimple shows.

Taking his face in my hands, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. His surprise is quickly replaced by enthusiasm as he kisses me back, pulling me close to him. We stand there in the empty hallway until the sound of the door opening at the far end tells us we’re not alone.

I try and separate, but he holds on, nuzzling my ear. “Don’t lose your nerve now, Kali.”

“Coach—” It’s Dylan, and he stops, bringing a whole crowd of kids to a halt behind him before proceeding more slowly in our direction.

Nash’s face splits into a grin.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” I say, “like a guy showing off a trophy.” My voice is light, more resigned than upset.

He dips his head and whispers, “Who’s the trophy in this scenario, Miss Austin? You or me.” My laughter bursts, and I push away from him, giving him a look of mock outrage.

“What’s going on, Dylan?” I say. “You look like a man on a mission.”

Mia pushes through the crowd of hockey guys. “Hi, Miss Austin, sorry for…interrupting.” She dips her head, but I see her smile, looking anything but sorry. Dylan doesn’t bother hiding his chuckle and aims a sly smile at Dylan. Some of the other guys snort.

“This better be good,” Nash says, adopting a stern demeanor.

Dylan clears his throat. “It’s nothing—”

“It’s this,” Mia says, handing a photograph to me. I suck in a breath in instant recognition and shock.

Nash takes it from me. “Is this a picture of our graduation dance?” He squints at it, his jaw clenching as he recognizes the featured couple. It’s a photo of us dancing. “I remember this.” His face goes into the blankness of his game-time mask, and it feels like my stomach has been invaded by a swarm of butterflies, all trying to climb my throat at once.

The photo pictures us dancing to the last song of the night—just before we blew up in front of everyone.

“You were a couple for real,” Sondra says. “That was the graduation dance, and you were together.”

“Where did you get this?” Nash’s voice is quiet—and deadly, and he grips his arm tighter around me, pulling me in.

Mia watches me, waiting for me to say something, but I’m at a loss. I have no idea what she wants me to say or what makes these kids so interested. I look around at their faces, and they all have the same question on them. Except I have no idea what the question is.

No one volunteers an answer to Nash’s question, so he asks again, this time aiming it directly at Dylan.

“Who gave you this photo?”

Dylan clears his throat. “Mrs. Smith. She said to ask you what happened at the dance. She said it was some kind of big deal.”

“Fuck her,” Nash says.

Dylan steps back. The kids go silent, tensing up in shock.

“It was nothing,” I say. “We were just kids. I don’t know why she would—"

“Because she’s up to no fucking good,” Nash growls. He shuts down, his jaw clenched and his eyes like thunder about to explode into lightning. He whispers under his breath for only me to hear, “Fuck her, Kali. No more shit.” He tosses the photo at Dylan, scowling.

Then he takes off, looking like a warrior out to put down an uprising.

“Coach, wait up.” Dylan shoves the photo at Mia like it’s a hot potato.

“Where are you going?” Mia says, confused.

He looks back at her. “I told you not to listen to that lady.” His voice is angry, and his face looks like a storm. He darts a glance at me like I’m the cause of the problem. “She’s not cool.” Then he darts off. The rest of the kids disperse, but Mia stays behind.

“We were supposed to go… Never mind,” she says, waving a hand, obviously distraught.

“I’m sorry, honey. Mrs. Smith is trying to stir up trouble, and Coach thinks he needs to handle it.”