Page 35 of The Game

The diner is not too busy right now. There’s a scattering of people spread out around the tables, but it’s a weird time of day. Not quite lunch, not quite dinner.

Rob’s stare has me looking out the window beside us. It lets out into a big backyard that’s been converted into an adorable patio, but the furniture is all tucked away to the side. Too late in the season for patio dining in Michigan.

“So, how are you doing? I heard… Sorry, I don’t want to pry.”

“What did you hear?”

“I’m sorry. I overheard Amira telling Trinity you broke up with your boyfriend. Are you okay?”

Right. Love these guys, but they are all a bunch of gossips. But it’s not a secret. I look down at my hands, flexing my fingers to avoid the temptation to nibble on my nails.

“I did. It was the end of last year. It’s been a while. I’m fine.” Fine is an understatement.

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” His lips curve up in a small smile. He takes a few big gulps from his water glass, throat bobbing. “Listen, I don’t want to be too in your face, but are you seeing anyone else right now?”

“No.” The response comes out on autopilot before I remember I am indeed seeing someone. At least as far as anyone else is concerned. “Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?” He leans forward on his thick forearms. “Doesn’t sound promising.”

I lean away from him. “It’s new. Very new.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Cole Schaeffer. He’s on the hockey team.”

The smile slips off his face, and his eyes narrow. “You gotta watch out for those guys. They’re assholes.”

“Some might say the same of football players.” I snap back, not liking his automatic judgment. Cole has been nothing but kind to me, and I’ve seen the way Aspen treats Jordan. That boy worships the ground she walks on.

His eyebrow arches in a question. “Are you calling me an asshole?”

“No. I’m just saying. You’re judging them even though you don’t know them. I bet people have done that to you before. But you’re not just a football player. You’re also a business major, and I know you’re smart.”

His smile is back. “Thanks. But it’s not just that he’s a hockey player. I’ve heard things about Schaeffer. He’s bad news. Beat the shit out of a former teammate or something. That’s why he transferred here. The athletic department isn’t that big.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m good.” The spark of doubt that Darryl lit is flaring up into a full-fledged fire. I’m starting to realize Cole only gave me the basics of his story. He’s been holding back on the reasons he left his old team.

“Let me know if you ever need any help, or if he does anything. I’m here for you, Jazz. I hope you know that.”

He drops a hand on top of mine, and I appreciate the gesture, so I give him a smile and nod. “I will. Thanks, Rob. I’ve missed you guys.”

“I’ve missed you too, Jazz. Glad to have you back in our group.”

The busboy stopping by to clear our table halts our conversation for the moment, so I reach down, fumbling with the worn canvas of my backpack. The clasp is finicky, but I snap itopen by the time he’s cleared the dishes. I grab my binder and pull it out, placing it on the table in front of me.

There are plenty of tables open, so I don’t feel guilty about staying past our welcome or indulging in a free refill of the surprisingly good coffee. Most diners don’t know how to brew a good cup, but Ethel is one of a kind.

I drop my hands on the binder, leaning forward. “So, I’m planning for life post graduation, and I’ve been searching for business grants to start up my coffee shop. I was hoping you’d go over my applications with me. See if I missed anything or if you have any ideas to make them shine. I’m happy to help with anything you’re working on in return.”

He glances around, then down at the small round table. “How about we take this back to my place? More room to spread out?”

He’s not wrong. The place is cramped, but I’m hesitant to go back to his place. “How about the library? We could go to the downtown one. It’s just down the street, but they’ve got those big round group study tables. We can set up camp there.”

“Sure.” He flashes his blindingly white teeth at me, signaling the server for the check.

“Here you go, loves.”

Ethel herself drops the black leather sleeve on the table, and I fumble through my big purse. Of course, my wallet has sunk to the farthest reaches of the void. I should really learn to carry a smaller bag.

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