Page 112 of Scoring Lessons

We patted each other on the back in greeting, and I nodded toward where Olivia was standing near the far wall, off the rink’s edge, next to one of the orange vinyl booths. With a guy who was too close for my fucking liking.

“Do you know who that is?”

Morgan followed my line of sight. “Oh.” He blinked once. “That’s Bradley. He’s a friend from college. Moved here not that long ago.”

“He sure looks comfortable around Olivia,” I muttered.

Morgan settled me with a quizzical expression over the rim of his cup. “So?”

I cleared my throat then gave him the most casual shrug I could muster. “I’m just saying.”

I dropped onto the bench along the wall and started putting on my skates. The wood paneling behind me was plastered with vintage concert posters—Fleetwood Mac, AC/DC, The Beatles—and under different circumstances, I might have actually taken the time to appreciate them, but all I could do was keep looking over to where Olivia was.

Fuck. Why was she still talking to him? I thought she was going to say hi to the girls and then join me at the rink.

“What’s with that look, Hayes?” Morgan asked.

I avoided his gaze, suddenly becoming interested in making the perfect bow tie on my roller skates. “What look?”

“You’re looking at Olivia like⁠—”

“Stop being nosy, Morgan,” Parker said, dropping onto the bench beside me. His wig—a full, magnificent, feathered situation—was slightly off-center, and either he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. “It’s a bad look on your usual broody self.”

“I’m not broody.”

“Yeah, you are,” we both said in unison.

Morgan took a long sip of his drink. “Whatever.”

Parker shot me a Can you be less obvious? stare. I gave him a subtle nod as a silent thank-you for saving my ass.

I wasn’t ready to tell anyone about Olivia, and I was glad he had my back.

Parker and I stepped onto the rink and did a few lazy circles, the hardwood smooth under the wheels, the bass from the speakers coming up through the floor making it vibrate slightly. The place was full enough that we had navigate around other people, but not so packed that we couldn’t move. Daisy was somewhere on the other side of the rink with Anderson, who had apparently decided that teaching a golden retriever to tolerate roller skates was a reasonable use of his evening. Kennedy was beside him, laughing at something, her hand on his arm.

But my eyes kept drifting.

Olivia was still talking to Bradley-from-college. She’d laughed at something he said and thrown her head back. Something shifted behind my sternum, making my chest pull too tight.

I didn’t like him one bit. I had no reason to, but I didn’t fucking care. I didn’t need one.

“Have you talked to her since the other day?” Parker asked, following my line of sight with the subtlety of a foghorn.

“No.” My jaw ticked. “But we had a moment today.”

“Did you kiss her?” The eagerness in his voice was embarrassing for both of us.

I shook my head, steering around a group of people who were attempting a chain and failing. “It’s the way she looks at me. I know she feels it, too. This isn’t all in my head.”

“Jesus Christ.” Parker grabbed my arm without warning, and I nearly went down completely before he hauled me into the corner by the Pac-Man machine. The little electronic sounds from it pinged indifferently beside us. “This is getting a little too dramatic for me⁠—”

“You’re the most dramatic guy I know.” My voice came out flat.

“Talk to her.” He jabbed a finger at my chest. “Before you lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“It’s hard to take you seriously with that wig.”

“Please. I’m rocking this shit.” He flipped his ridiculous hair then pinned me in place with a stare that was, despite everything, completely serious. “I mean it, Hayes. Don’t be stupid.” His hand landed on my shoulder, steadying. “You deserve this. You both do.”