Page 53 of The Do-Over Girl

“Trouble? About what? What is it about that dance that made it such a big deal? What happened that made Coach so mad?”

“It was a long time ago, Mia.” Not long enough to forget. My emotional memory seems to be as long as an elephant’s. My insides jitter, and I’m in danger of hiccupping. “It’s not worth getting worked up over now.” It’s true. Why should I let Barbara Smith and her reminder about one night from the past have any more power over me now? I’m living in the present, aren’t I?

“Dylan’s right. I should’ve known she was stirring up trouble and that it’s none of our business.” She casts her eyes down at the wall and everywhere except me. Then, without warning, she bursts out, “What’s going on between you two?”

I’m taken aback at the worry, fear, and anger in her words, all the emotions warring in her eyes.

I take her arm. “Let’s go talk in my office.” I walk her back across the hall and unlock my office door adjacent to my classroom, sitting her down. “It doesn’t matter what happened between Nash and I. That was us then, and this is now.”

“But it does matter. Dylan looks up to Coach so much—he would die for the guy if—”

“Don’t talk like that. Of course, he admires Nash—Coach. He was an NHL star, and he’s been generous and working hard to help Dylan and the whole team.”

She looks up at me. “Kind of like you—I don’t mean the NHL star part. But you’ve been helping us—and you’re beautiful and so nice. All the girls look up to you, too. It’s like you and Coach are the fairytale couple.” She waves her hands and looks down, her face flushing, and I can tell she has more to say, but I don’t rush her. I put a hand on her shoulder lightly for reassurance.

“You know some of the kids talk about you and Coach, calling you the Golden Couple and…about me and Dylan supposedly being your shadows, the Golden Couple in the making. They compare us all the time on the GoFundMe video, on TikTok and on IG—memes are everywhere. It’s like the trending gossip at APA now. Ever since the dance. And then with the yearbook. Then, when Mrs. Smith approached me after school—”

My blood runs cold. Shit. “Barbara approached you?”

She nods. “Yes. She’s been talking a lot and all over Facebook on the APA student page. It’s weird. I don’t bother with it. Shelly showed me some of her posts, and I told all the girls to avoid reading the gossip out of respect for you. As our coach, you know?”

“I appreciate that, Mia. Thank you.”

“We have each other’s back, right? You’ve been so nice to me. It’s the least I can do.”

She smiles, and I can’t help myself. “Can I give you a hug?” She nods, and I give her a good, heartfelt hug. A brief one, and then I let her go. My eyes are watery without my permission, and I realize how good I feel because these are happy tears threatening.

In a dozen years as a public relations professional, I never felt this good. Ever.

“Sorry.” I wave a hand at my face. “You’ve made my day—maybe my whole year. There’s nothing like making positive connections with people, is there?”

“No,” she says and laughs. Then she throws her arms around me in a spontaneous hug, and we both laugh. And cry. Not that we have anything to cry about.

When we let each other go and wipe our tears away, she says, “I feel so much better now. I don’t even remember what I was so upset about.” She laughs. “Truth.”

I nod. “You’re growing to be a wonderful young woman, Mia. I can’t wait to see you shine in whatever you do.” I clear my throat. “And for the record, whoever you end up sharing your life with will be the luckiest man alive. You deserve the best.”

“Do you think I deserve Dylan?”

“Dylan is a fine young man, Mia, with a lot of promise, but I think the question is more whether or not he deserves you.”

“You’re the best.”

“I’m glad we solved all your problems, though I don’t know why you were ever worried in the first place.”

She blushes and glances away.

“What?”

“It’s… We were saying that we didn’t want to end up like you and Coach, wasting seventeen years.”

“Neither do I,” I murmur.

“What?”

“Nothing. You should get going.” She smiles, and then she runs off to join her friends.

She’s left me feeling lighter and more hopeful somehow. Maybe I’ve finally put aside the past, though I haven’t exactly forgotten it. But it’s like I’m looking at Nash as a new person, which he is. The grown-up version of his former self, and he deserves a new look, right?

Same with me. I’ve grown since I left Andrews Point—despite my recent slip while I let myself get caught up in the vortex of my past with Nash—and everything I left behind.

Nikki’s advice was right on. Call a truce on the past, and let the present sizzle.