“I get it, Tommy. You were worried. And I ignored you first.”
“No, I…” He groans. “I’m so embarrassed. I acted like a twelve-year-old, ignoring you.”
“It’s fine, Tommy.”
“I hadMark,of all people, telling me off,” Tommy mutters back. He casts me a long look. “Since when are you and him friendly?”
“Since he saw me wipe out on the ice,” I tell him. “I don’t know why he’s being nice. Maybe he feels bad for me?”
Tommy looks unconvinced. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell him to screw off.”
My faces gives me away.
Tommy’s lips curve into a smile. “You did, huh? You’re still the same old Kyle, then. Too shy to ask him out instead of curse at him.”
“Shut up,” I say, face reddening.
Tommy chuckles. He straightens up and places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I glare at him. He’s the only one who ever put two and two together and realisewhyI always pick fights with Mark. And since I’ve known since early in our friendship that Tommy doesn’t gossip, I’ve always been okay with him knowing.
“You’ve made progress,” Tommy says.
Tommy’s grin is smug. I elbow him. “Stop. Stop smiling like that.”
“He was quick to come help you a moment ago. Pushed me right out of the way so he could do it.”
“He did?” I process that, but ultimately shrug off his implication. “Like I said, I think he’s just being nice because I’m injured.”
“Being nice and getting involved are two different things,” Tommy says.
Mark pulls up with his car. He’s taken off his jacket and approaches in a neat white polo shirt. It is one of those simple ones that gives him a preppy vibe but somehow suits him perfectly. Mark’s eyes narrow at Tommy as he gets close, his gaze lingering where Tommy cups my shoulder. He drags his gaze to meet mine. “Will it be easier to lean on me or on the crutches?”
“I can manage the crutches.”
“But which iseasier—”
“The crutches, Mark,” I say wryly.
He nods and grabs my bag from the ground. “Do you need anything from the campus before we go?” As he asks, Mark shuffles between me and Tommy, body-blocking Tommy as I stand up. Mark holds my shoulders steady so I don’t wobble.
“I don’t think so,” I answer. Even when focusing on keeping my weight even and steady, I see the small grapple as Tommy takes my bag from Mark, and Mark snatches it back. And then Tommy tries to take it back, but Mark has a firm hold on it this time.
What are they doing?
“You’ll rip my bag apart,” I say. “Stop it.”
“I’m bringing him home. I need his bag,” Mark says coolly. He stands up to his full height, eye-level with Tommy. I eye the two of them. They both have similar strong, athletic builds. Tommy can lift more, but Mark has always been more dexterous and faster on his feet. It’s why he’d end up in crucial roles in their team sports—Mark took to new skills like he’d been practising them since birth. However, I’m certain Tommy could pack more of a punch than Mark. Tommy’s worked at his dad’s car garage since he was a kid, and he has the muscles to prove that he’s not afraid of hard labour.
“I’m coming, too,” Tommy says, glowering.
I used to fight with Mark all the time, and when I’d knock him down with rough tackles his friends would get involved, which meantmyfriends would get involved, which meant—very often—all out war. However, while Tommy was always there to back me up, he never started a fight himself.
“Can we go?” I interrupt their stand off warily. If they even shove each other, I’ll get knocked down as collateral damage. Mark glances at me and sees that I’m edging away from him. He releases the bag, giving it up to Tommy. Tommy looks stupidly smug, annoying me.
“Of course, sorry, Kyle.” Mark returns to my side.
“I’m just grateful for the lift home,” I say. “Are you missing classes, dropping me home?”
“Nothing important,” Mark replies.
