The Girl Who Fell(19)
Parts of me think it’s absurd. Meeting Alec, having a picnic, making out. But other parts want to do it again.
And again.
I turn onto Ashland Drive with my phone in my hand, ready to text Lizzie for an emergency meeting. But when I pull up to the house Gregg’s truck is parked out front. My hands squeeze tight around the steering wheel and my breath goes shallow. Even though this is what I’ve wanted—Gregg and me going back to normal—I can’t help my stomach from knotting.
I park, slip my phone into my pocket, and enter the kitchen where Gregg’s sitting at the island, thumbing through one of Mom’s fall bulb catalogs. His posture rests easy, like it’s the most natural place for him to be. There’s a small stack of dog treats on the counter, and Finn is alert at Gregg’s feet, gazing up expectantly. Gregg was with me when I got Finn from the pound and Finn adores Gregg. Then again, who doesn’t love Gregg?
He looks up. “I let myself in with the spare key. Hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course. Any time. You know you’re always welcome.”
“Am I?” He closes the magazine, slides it toward the middle of the island.
“Look, Gregg—”
“Don’t. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I get that. You’re not into me.”
I lean against the island, bracing myself. “I don’t want what happened to change anything.”
“It has. It sucked, Zephyr. Not the kiss . . . your reaction to the kiss. And then being blown off.”
“But I texted you. I wanted to talk the next day.”
“That was a pity text and you know it.”
I fix my posture straight. “How am I the enemy here?”
He lets out a long breath and softens his voice. “You’re not. Look, I’m trying to admit I made a mistake.”
“O-kay.”
“I screwed up. I got the timing wrong.”
But it’s more than timing; it’s chemistry. I know that after kissing Alec.
“I know you have your plan for next year and I hope that still includes me.”
“Of course, Gr—”
He holds up his hand. “No need to go all fangirl over me.” Gregg winks. “Look, it’s done. I just need to hear we’re cool.”
“We’re cool. That’s all I ever want us to be.”
He raps his knuckles on the butcher block counter. “Good. So you’ll come to my game tonight? Preseason opener.” He smiles that perfect smile. “You can’t break tradition now.”
My heart leaps at the chance to restore balance. “What time?”
“Seven. We’re playing Hampton.”
I nod approvingly. “Rivals. Nice.”
“Those wannabes? They wish they were good enough to be called our rivals.” He stands, starts toward the door. “So you’ll be in my cheering section?”
“You bet.”
“That’s my girl,” he says, and I bristle. Gregg pets Finn and sneaks him a parting treat before heading out the door.
The whir of his engine fades as he drives off and I text Lizzie that I’m kidnapping her for the rink.
• • •
We find seats on a midlevel bleacher. “So Slice was cool?” Lizzie says.
“Totally cool. It was so nothing, just a drunk kiss.” I neglect to tell her that I never got my sorry ass over to his house, or how I spent my afternoon instead.
Music pumps from the speakers around the rink as the two teams pour onto the ice, gliding into position. My eyes go directly to Sudbury’s goal. Even though I can’t see Alec’s face behind his goalie mask, I keep my eyes fixed on his alert body, made wide with protective hockey gear. The ref drops the puck and bodies scramble. Alec wards off attempted goals with his blocker and his leg pads, his movements as slick as the ice under his skates. The crowd roars each time he deflects a shot. I bite down on a secret smile. Just thinking about being at the park with him warms my body from the inside, like a furnace, even though it’s about two degrees inside this tin stadium.
Lizzie buries her cheeks into her mittens to ward off the cold. “So how long were you at Slice’s today?”
“Where?”
“Earth to Zee. You said you’d visit me at work. I had to endure a six-hour shift with Shorty. Alone. Without chocolate of any kind. It was cruel and unusual. I texted you a million times.”
“I totally spaced. I left my phone in my car.”
Sudbury scores and everyone in the bleachers stands and hollers. Me and Lizzie do the obligatory stand, but we’re not the hooting types.
“I went for a run,” I lie. “Cleaned my room.” As much as I want to tell her about Alec, it can’t be here.