I tap my fingers against my seat.
I resist the temptation to trade seats with Isaiah. I want to talk with Evan right now. But if this goes the way I want, there will be kissing involved.
That’s how I find myself knocking on Evan’s bedroom door once we get to Hartford.
“I know you’re in there,” I say finally.
Then I stop because I totally sound creepy, and that’s not what I’m going for.
Evan swings the door open. “We don’t need to do this.”
I slip into the room, conscious of how unsteady I feel in his presence. Every fiber of my being wants to brush against him.
Instead, I brush against the wall and try to keep my eyes level. I didn’t come here to have my gaze linger on the planes of his beautiful face, as if they’re not already etched into my soul.
“We need to talk.”
Evan flinches, and I curse myself for starting the conversation with those words, as if I’m initiating a breakup.
“It’s really not necessary,” he says, this time desperately.
His gaze doesn’t find mine. His view is focused on the floor. And sure, this might be a four-star hotel, Hartford’s best, but that just means there’s no chance of insects crawling over grimy carpet pile.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” I say.
He swallows hard. He squares his shoulders, as if prepared to take a hit.
“I shouldn’t have left,” I say finally.
“Okay,” he says, his voice careful.
“I don’t want to make you unhappy.”
He flinches. “Don’t pay attention to Stella. I get it. I really do. We’re athletes. It would be a story if we got together. Maybe it’s not worth it.”
It would be easy to nod and agree that the air has been cleared. I can stretch out my hand for a fist bump, and that will be that. Maybe the next time we see each other will be slightly less awkward.
“I think I might have been wrong,” I say.
His eyes flick up toward me. “About what?”
“Probably about a lot of things. But I shouldn’t have left without talking to you.”
“I called.”
“And I didn’t answer. I really like you,” I blurt.
His eyes soften. “We used to be best friends.”
“Do you think...” I hesitate, overwhelmed by the frantic beating of my heart.
There’s a chance that things will go just how I want them to go, but there’s another, bigger chance that this will be the other sort of pivotal moment. The sort of pivotal moment that ends up with me in my hotel room, clutching tissues and not sleeping.
Half of songs seem to be about the wonders of love, but the other half seems to be about heartbreak. I don’t want that.
But I go through physical pain all the time in my job. I consider myself strong. Why should I not be here too? Why should I act like a weakling at this time?
Evan is still. Even his breaths are quiet, as if worried he could destroy the equilibrium in the room.
