He knows who my dad is. They might not be in the same department, but to some degree, they’re colleagues. And just like everyone else does, he’s put two and two together. This… this is a fucking pity interview.
I can’t get up fast enough.
“I’m sorry, Mr—”Shit, I cut him off and I don’t even know his name.Horrified, I reach over to grab my purse and abruptly stand, which only makes things worse when my full stainless steel water bottle flies off the table and Mr. Nameless lifts his foot, letting out a painful groan.
Shit, again.
“Oh god.” I drop down to the floor, chasing after the water bottle. “I’m so sorry, I?—”
“Is everything alright, Ms. Alvarez?” he grits through clenched teeth.
Please stop saying my name if we both want to get out of here alive. I put my hand on the seat of a chair, using it to hoist myself up off the floor. I push to stand just as he comes forward to help me but the wheels slip out from under me, sending the hard plastic chair straight into his groin.
I drop my water bottle again, covering my mouth with both hands. Mr. Nameless looks like he might throw up. He pales like a cartoon character, and I race to my feet as he folds over, holding his crotch in a very unsettling way.
“I’ll get—” I point to the door, trying to remember the name of the woman at the front desk.
“Shelly,” he coughs out.
“Shelly, yes.” I rip open the door, looking back at him. “I’m so sorry again.”
A clipped nod and another cough are his only response.
32
noah
If it wereany other day, I would feel the crushing weight of the world on my shoulders right now. Letting my dad down is bad enough, but letting my team down is an entirely different feeling. My next move should one hundred percent be a shower to pick apart every wrong move I made, every piss poor decision, and every way I’m going to rectify it during my next practice to ensure those mistakes never happen again. The problem is, my number one priority right now has nothing to do with hockey, and everything to do with the girl who didn’t show up tonight.
A single text from Savannah letting me know she wasn’t feeling well, had me giving the same excuse to my family to get out of dinner tonight.
Take-out in hand, I stand in the hallway outside of Savannah’s apartment. Relief hits me when she opens the door. Aside from slightly puffy, red eyes, she doesn’t look any different than usual.
“I brought you chicken and waffles.” I hold up the brown paper bag and her mouth parts.
“Where did you…”
“It’s a secret spot.” I shrug.
“Noah.” She sighs, closing her eyes, and turns her head into the doorframe. “I lied.”
My shoulders deflate, and I’m grateful that I’m at least able to smile at her confession. “I kind of assumed. That’s why I didn’t bring soup. Can I come in?”
She holds the door open, gesturing inside toward her room. I discard the take-out bag on the kitchen counter and enter her dark bedroom. The only light comes from a pink salt lamp on her nightstand—the same nightstand that has been taken over by an inventory of two different water bottles, one coffee cup, a to-go smoothie fromThe Den, and, of course, a discarded s’mores pop-tart wrapper.
I feel Savannah’s presence at my back, and as badly as I want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her, I realize that I might not be what she wants right now. Maybe the idea of meeting my parents tonight was too much for her after what she shared with me last night. She just shared her loss with me, why did I think it was a good idea to turn around and shove what I still had in her face? The feeling that I’m not doing things right by her has made my stomach turn all day.
“Is this about meeting my parents?”
“No.” The word comes out quick and firm.
I turn around, and her hands are already reaching for me. “No. I promise. I really am looking forward to meeting them. It’s…” She trails off, hanging her head forward, unable to look at me.
Her eyes close when I cradle her face in my hands, tilting her head up. My thumbs brush lightly across the tops of her cheeks, ready to wipe away the tears filling her waterline.
“I bombed my interview,” she whispers.
“Aw, Sav. What happened?”
