Page 34 of Breakaway Hearts

“Iswear he added the extra chapter just because you annoyed him,” Jason complains of our professor for the one class we share this semester, but he’s smiling with something that looks like pride.

“You’d think, as a teacher, he’d want his students to do well on the exam, which they are not going to do if they think Martin Luther is the ancestor of⁠—”

“I’m sure they would have figured it out with the textbook.”

“Still. Three times he added a King.”

“Don’t ever change, Maddie.” He shakes his head at me.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“It was,” he assures me. Then bites his bottom lip, which means he’s debating saying something, whereas he usually just blurts out whatever is on his mind. “Are we really not going to discuss the elephant in the room?”

“Are you nervous?” I ask, completely patronizing him. It’s easier than what he wants to talk about. “Because you haven’t skated with actual hockey players in years?”

“I wasn’t, but thanks for pointing that out.”

“Happy to help.” I smile, but he looks at me all serious.

“You sure you’re good?”

“It’s not like I’m going inside,” I assure him, and myself. The arena is in full view now, guys in Wolves t-shirts slowly making their way from the parking lot or other buildings. It’s enough to make me want to high tail it to Wyn Weekly, our student paper. Not that I would stay and watch Jason practice, but I am grateful for the excuse of a job interview. Owen is part of a group getting out of a black SUV, so I turn away and face Jason. “I’ll just watch from a computer screen.”

Jason nods, accepting that I won’t be attending his games, but it hurts. I hate not being there for him. I hate that when I finish this interview I won’t come sit in the stands and wait so I can tell him how it went as soon as he gets out. But I can’t.

“Break a leg today. They’d be stupid not to hire you. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“I’ll add that to my references.” I roll my eyes, but it does nothing to diminish his smile as he walks over to a group of men so like the ones from high school that I get that kind of nostalgic déjà vu that makes me want to smile as much as I want to cry.

They took so much away from me; I can’t let them take Jason’s dream as well.

I wave before he heads inside. I’m pretty sure one of the guys in the distance is waving too, but I readjust my backpack straps, and don’t look back.

“Are you the photographer?” A short girl with fiery red hair asks as soon as I walk into the paper’s offices.

“I’m here to interview as…a reporter?” I regret that it comes out as a question, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “To write articles,” I add, but she’s already back to organizing the stacks of papers she was working on.

“I don’t know why he thinks emailing his pictures compromises their integrity, but if he keeps bringing his SD cards when I’m supposed to be going to print, his trial won’t last the week.”

“I’m so sorry,” I apologize.

“Did you send me something?”

“A piece on the student council elections⁠—”

“With the part about safe rides and date rape tests at all campus parties and in our welcome kits with the free condoms,” she finishes for me, finally looking up and taking me in. “I loved that piece. Did I say you needed an interview?”

“You’re Michaela?” I guess, since it was the name of the editor who told me she loves it, I’m hired, please send exactly this every Friday by five.

She nods.

“You didn’t, but a Maxwell Morrison wrote after you did, asking me to come in.”

“Really? He normally couldn’t care less. Not that he doesn’t read it, but…” Something hits her and her nostrils flare, which would be comical when paired with the color of her hair, but I’m not sure if I’m her target yet. “Are you early or has he been in the office this whole time dodging my texts?”

“I’m early,” I say quickly. I can’t tell if she’s out of her mind or if I’m going to love her. Maybe both.

“Good. Are you sure you don’t know how to work a camera?”