“Oh. Well, they sound like a great time.”
“Maybe you should go out with them then,” she says, plopping another slice of fruit into her mouth.
“I already have a pretty expansive friend group.”
“I wouldn’t really say they’re my friends. They’re just, like, I don’t know—” She shrugs. “People I sometimes hang out with.”
I should feel better about the fact that I’m not the only one she appears to give the cold shoulder to. Hockey players might be at the top of her list, but aside from Chloe, she doesn’t seem to have much of a relationship with anyone and that’s a slight blow to my confidence.
I can already hear her hissing a reminder that I don’t know her, so I don’t dare speak those thoughts out loud. Instead, I rifle through my backpack, thanking my past self for being smart enough to carry our journalism project with me everywhere I go.
“What are you studying for?” I lift my chin toward her papers.
“I have an interview tomorrow.”
“For what? You already have a job.”
I would know, considering I’ve been at the coffee shop every free hour that I have this week.
“It’s for an internship.”
“Oh, cool. Where?”
“With the rugby team.”
I quirk a brow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a rugby fan.”
“Have you ever heard of Knox Browning? He could make anyone a rugby fan.” She bites into the last slice of her orange. A dribble of juice shines along her bottom lip before she swipes her tongue across it, and I shift a little in my seat. “I’m not really that into it, I’m just trying to get a head start on the internship requirement for the sports journalism class next semester.”
I watch as she picks at a sticker of a holographic ghost riding a skateboard on her water bottle. “I thought you might have just wanted an easy class with your aunt, but sports journalism? Is that your major?”
“Hockey commentating is the end goal.” She nods to herself.
That gives me pause. This girl has been pushing me away with the brute force of a five-thousand-pound bull because she hates hockey players. An utterly confused laugh escapes me as I shake my head.
“What?”
“I’m just confused about how you plan on working with hockey players when you clearly hate them so much.”
“Notice how you said working with and not dating.” She points a finger at me.
“Ahh.” I pull my head back.
She brushes all her orange peels into a neat little pile and slides her papers into a folder, before dropping it in her bag. Iwatch nervously, like she’s going to get up and leave now that she’s done.
I open the small zipper on the front of my bag, pulling out my Hail Mary. I’m rewarded with a small parting of her lips.
“I can’t believe you found these.” She reaches for the pack of s'mores flavored jelly beans. “I’ve only ever been able to find them at this candy shop down by the beach we stay at in the summer.”
That checks, considering I had to scour the internet and pay a small fortune to get them shipped to our little town in a timely manner.
Her dimples appear when she grins, no longer holding back, and I know I’d buy a pool full of those damn things if it meant more smiles like that.
“So, I know we didn’t plan on meeting up again until Monday, but since we’re both here.” I lift my papers from the table. “Should we work on a few more questions?”
A thick swallow is her only tell. I noticed it yesterday and at the diner. So, I give her a little smile, like a gentle coax.
“Come on, Savvy. You can spare twenty minutes.”
