So why can’t I have a little slice of happiness?
Looking over at Kellan once more, I find him already looking at me. He has a big smile on his face, which can’t bode well for me.
The professor dismisses class, but I don’t move. Kellan is already moving, though. Toward me.
“Hey, Cora. Do you have time to get lunch with me? My treat.”
I suck in my bottom lip. I need to say no. I should say no.
“Yes.”
Fuck it. I want to go.
I don’t even get a chance to collect my things. Kellan has them up in his arms before I can even think about it. Then he holds out his arm for me to hold. I don’t even hesitate. I feel so silly holding his arm like I’m some debutante, but I like it.
I like him.
As we walk, my eyes keep scanning for anyone I might know. I’m not ashamed of Kellan, but I don’t want to cause any more issues for him either.
“What are the odds that we would end up in the same class like that?” Kellan asks, breaking the silence.
“Well, you aren’t really in it. You’re the assistant,” I tell him.
He nods. “I took it last year. Did so well that the professor asked me to TA for him. It makes sense since my backup plan is to teach. Well, I want to be a coach, but most schools want you to also be able to teach a class or two.”
“Really? That’s so sweet. Why coaching?”
He thinks it over a moment before he answers me, which I respect. He never gives me some bullshit answer. It makes me think he is taking my questions seriously and wants to give me his most honest answer.
“Last year, I wouldn’t have even had a backup plan, but after the shitty year I had, I realized that it could all be gone, and I would be left with nothing. So I buckled down and figured out what I wanted to do. I volunteer at the rink back home teaching the younger kids hockey and love watching the little ones fall in love with the sport. I think I could do that for the rest of my life.”
His words stir something inside of me. It’s like I’ve found a kindred spirit. I find the same joy when I see the kids from the center. I like watching them light up when they see their parents. It’s supervised because of reasons beyond their control, but I like that I can be there during one of their happy times.
“That’s so sweet. You’d be a great coach. You have this presence about you that I’m sure makes the kids more comfortable with you.”
“Are you trying to say I’m childish?” he jokes.
“I mean, men are usually slower to mature than women, so if you compare yourself to me, it wouldn’t be inaccurate,” I tease back.
He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. In that moment, all I can do is smile wider at him. He looks so carefree right now. It has my resolve fading.
I don’t want to avoid Kellan. I actually like him.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I lean my head on his arm as we continue to walk. “So that’s the end goal then? After hockey?” I ask.
“I mean, I hope I stay in hockey until I’m in my thirties, if not longer, but yes. I think I would like to find somewhere to teach hockey. Maybe my hometown rink? What about you? What are your big plans?” he asks.
It’s an innocent question. One that would be normal to talk about, but it has my gut churning.
“I’m not really sure. I’ve lived my life from day to day for so long that I think I forgot to worry about the future,” I admit softly.
He opens the door to the main cafeteria, stepping aside to let me go in first. He waits until we get into line before he speaks again.
“You don’t have to have your whole life figured out right now. In fact, I think it’s better you don’t. Take me, for example.” He grabs a tray and starts putting food on it, pointing to things for me to nod or shake my head depending on what I want. “I had my entire life figured out when I came here. I was going to be the youngest captain of the hockey team. I’d be living in the hockey house and have the respect of all the guys. Instead, I’m struggling and have a roommate who stays up playing video games all night. If you asked seventeen-year-old me, I would be a disappointment. Knowing exactly what you want puts pressure on yourself. You’re lucky.”
When we get to the end, he pays for both of our meals. I usually hate when people do that, but the way he didn’t even think about it or boast that he did it, has me accepting his generosity.
I follow him to a table, taking the seat across from him. After a moment, I say, “I don’t feel lucky. I feel lost.”
