Page 76 of Playing Games

Lex: Yes.

Another night with Lex in my arms means another chance to convince her to give in. One of these nights, she’s going to realize we’re made for each other.

Friday, July 25th

Lexi

Zip’s Diner is alive with the warm hum of chatter, the clinking of silverware against plates, and the faint scent of burgers and milkshakes lingering in the air. The place is filled with everyone who loves and cares about Scottie Bardeaux: my mom and stepdad Wes, the rest of the Winslow family, Finn’s mom Helen and all his siblings, Scottie’s cheerleading teammates, Kline, Georgia, Thatch, Cassie, and even Scottie’s dad, sister, and—surprisingly—her mom, despite the rocky relationship I know they’ve had.

The lights twinkle above us, adding to the festive atmosphere as the group waits in hushed anticipation. And the moment Finn pushes Scottie through the front doors, the room bursts to life, everyone, including me, shouting in unison, “Surprise!”

Ace and Julia and Kayla stand at the front, ready to greet her. And Blake is there too, a big, breathtaking smile etched on his handsome face. I don’t miss the way a few of the girls from the Dragons’ cheerleading squad flit toward the star quarterback, their eyes aflutter with overzealous flirtations.

Everyone on campus knows Blake Boden, but none of them know him quite like I do.

Maybe one day, if I can ever get over myself or if he ends up on the Mavericks like it seems as if he might…maybe one day, everyone will see all the things I do because I let them.

Scottie’s eyes are as bright as a fully lit Christmas tree when her mind starts to process what is happening, and when she spots Blake and Ace and Julia and Kayla, she exclaims, “What? I thought you were all out of town!”

A big smile covers her lips, and she also glances over her shoulder to where Finn stands behind her chair. “This is your doing?”

He nods proudly. “Yep.”

From my spot in the back corner of Zip’s Diner, I can’t make out what else they say to each other, but whatever it is, it earns an equally big smile on Finn’s normally stoic face. He even leans down to whisper something into her ear that makes her cheeks blush pink, and he presses a kiss to her lips.

If I compared this version of Finn to the version of Finn I first met nearly a year ago, I would hardly recognize him.

He’s calmer. More relaxed. His smiles come easier, and he doesn’t look like a guy who is walking around with a proverbial chip on his shoulder. He’shappy.

I know his family life has changed dramatically, with his dad behind bars and his mom and siblings in a better school district and better house that’s located in a safer part of town than where they were living.

But there’s more to Finn’s happiness. It’s written all over his face, the real-life embodiment of the heart-eyes emoji as hewatches Scottie move through the crowd, getting hugs and “happy birthdays” from friends and family alike.

A hypothesis instantly takes shape in my mind:Could love be defined as finding genuine happiness in someone else’s joy? Is that the true measure of connection—when their happiness feels inseparable from your own?

The problem with my hypothesis, of course, is the same as always—the subject of love itself. It’s abstract, elusive, and defies the laws of logic in ways that can’t be studied, even by me.

It’s the part of it I hate the most, and yet, it’s the very thing that makes it so special. Lovecan’tbe analyzed or duplicated—it’s recklessly intrinsic.

That doesn’t stop me from picking my new conjectures apart.

I look across the room to where my mom and stepdad stand chatting with Uncle Remy and Aunt Maria, and I don’t miss how my stepdad embraces my mom or how my mom’s hand never seems to leave its gentle spot on his chest.

And when I think about all the moments growing up that I’ve seen my mom or stepdad at their happiest, not a single event or memory is one where their happiness was solely wrapped up in themselves.

A visual of the way Wes looked down at my mom after she had delivered my little brother Wes Jr. into the world is permanently etched inside my brain. He had tears in his eyes, and he looked like a man who was in absolute awe of his wife.

Feeling and understanding other people’s emotions is always a challenge for me, but in that hospital room with my baby brother in my mother’s arms and Wes looking at my mom like his whole world was her, I felt the strangest urge to cry. Wes’s emotions were raw and cutting in a way even I couldn’t deny.

My gaze drifts back to Blake. He’s hugging Scottie, and whatever he says has her laughing, her smile wide and infectious. I catch my own lips twitching, an almost involuntary smile threatening to appear. But before I can even begin to dissect what that reaction means, a gentle hand lands on my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry,” a guy with dark-brown hair and chocolaty-brown eyes apologizes with a gentle smile. “I’m Adam Houth, one of the physical therapists who is working with Scottie at the Hodge Clinic.”

Confusion over why this guy is talking to me right now tugs at my expression, but I quickly compose myself and offer what I hope passes as a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lexi Winslow.”

“I know who you are,” he says with a slightly self-conscious grin. Adam is an aesthetically attractive guy and looks to be a year or two older than me, but other than that, he’s just another man.

“You do?”

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