Page 105 of Unsteady

Three days since that interaction, and I still haven’t seen Rhys on his own. They played against Colgate last night and won in the first overtime, but from what I read online, it was a pretty rough game for Waterfell and they ultimately “played like shit.”

Tonight, they play Boston College, and it’s supposed to be pretty important.

My brothers are coming, too. Rhys secured them spots and told me that they’d sit with his mom so I could spend time with my friends. I’m still slightly wary of her, and I haven’t officially met his dad yet, despite the times I saw him at Oliver and Liam’s summer practices.

Still, I find myself changing three times before even sitting down in front of the standing mirror in Aurora’s room to do my makeup.

She finishes much quicker, offering to do my hair into two short, loose braids with thin blue ribbons tying them off. I feel a little funny, but… pretty, for the first time in a while. I wonder if Rhys will think I’m pretty like this.

My chest squeezes at the thought and I feel a little nauseous.

As I pull on my white sneakers, Rora rounds the doorway from her closet and I pause.

“What are you wearing?” I ask, eyebrows skyrocketing at the vintage patchwork style jacket she’s sliding on, black denim with the back cut out, some sort of Waterfell University shirt stitched into its place. The sleeve is bedazzled with blue lettering “Wolves” down one sleeve, with stars blazing up the other.

“What areyouwearing?” she asks back, her arms crossing at my black jeans and white top. “I thought you were going to wear the dress.”

I ignore her question. Iwasgoing to wear the silk dress until it didn’t fit over my ass, which made me feel worse because I can already hear Coach Kelley in my ear about the weigh in before the next comp—which is in Denver for an entire four days, so I know I’ll be opting out, again.

“Did you make that?”

“Yes.” She grabs something off her desk, tossing it so quickly I barely have time to reach my hands out. “I made you one too.”

I expect a copy of hers, but I shouldn’t because this is Aurora—with more creativity and brains in her pinky that I have in my whole body.

It’s a vintage bomber, with a navy and teal striped collar and cuffs, a large Waterfell Wolves logo emblazoned on one side, offset with a patch of denim, while the other side hosts a large 51 in a pearlescent white with navy stitching.

Rhys Koteskiy’s number.

“I was gonna put his name on the back too, but I didn’t have enough time.” She shrugs. “Not to mention I’m pretty sure I’d misspell it, even if I was copying it letter for letter.”

Part of me wants to snip at her for meddling, for thinking this was something either of us would want. But I bite my tongue because my eyes are burning with tears at the gentle thoughtfulness of my friend.

“You didn’t want to stitch a number into yours?” I ask, turning back to the mirror and picking up the maroon lipstick laying across the vanity.

She smirks, cheeks flushing. “I did,” she replies, showing her sleeve where a small 27 is stitched into the star closest to her hand.

I don’t have to pull up the roster to guess that number 27 is the only player she semi-knows on the team.

“For your favorite student, huh?”

“I wanna surprise him with his test score.” She smiles, and this time there's real excitement in her gaze, something that’s been missing from her since the breakup. And even before, really. “He passed the midterm.”

“He’ll be excited to know he doesn’t have a suspension coming. And maybe to shut everyone up about exactly how dumb—”

Something in my comment makes her bristle, face tight as she pulls her hair from beneath the jacket.

“He’s not dumb,” she huffs. “He’s actually really smart. I mean, look at him play—he reads every move so well. He and Rhys are like, perfect together.”

I nod, admonished, but my brow furrows. “You’ve seen them play?”

“I’ve gone to a game or two.”

That’s news to me; but I can’t say I’m surprised Ididn’tknow. With everything still going on around us—skating, my distraction of Rhys, the boys, the custody case, my father—I haven’t really been paying attention.

“So, you understand hockey now?”

She nods. “I read a few books about it at work before I went to a game. Wanted to fully understand it.”

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