Page 2 of Easton

I guess I’m staring, seeing as she catches me and stops mid-fluff.

“What?” she asks as she slips the band thingy over her hand and up to her wrist.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

Hell, I can’t tell her I was just thinking about how beautiful she is, and how when she does that thing with her hair, my breath always catches in my throat.

See, we’re just friends. We have been since she and her mom moved into our middle-class neighborhood five years ago when we were both twelve.

Secretly, I’m glad her dad didn’t start his company until after the divorce. Otherwise, he’d probably be paying a hell of a lot more in alimony and child support. Claire and her mom would surely be living in some mansion somewhere.

Then I wouldn’t know her.

Hell, I would’ve never even met her.

We wouldn’t go to the same high school, where we share a lot of the same classes. Nor would we have started riding our bikes together two days after she moved in.

That’s actually how we met.

We clicked right away. Maybe because we’re both only children, I don’t know.

Anyway, had we not met, we wouldn’t be able to hang at each other’s houses and do our homework together. Although, some days we slack on the schoolwork and watch stupid shows on TV instead.

I like those times best.

Anytime Claire’s laughing and having fun, I feel so happy.

Isn’t that dumb?

Oh well, whatever.

I guess what I’m trying to say is if Claire hadn’t moved into my neighborhood, we wouldn’t be the best friends that we are. Nor would we be taking late-summer walks like this one and sharing our lives.

Since I’m worried Claire may catch on to my sappy reminiscing—and why am I doing this anyway?—I clear my throat and say, “Man, I can’t believe school starts next week. Summer went way too fast.”

“I know,” Claire agrees. “But this year should be fun. We’re finally seniors.”

“Right?”

She goes on. “It feels like the last three years kind of dragged. But I bet this one flies by.”

Her pretty eyes meet mine, and I swear, even from across the table, I can see the cool flecks of gold and green in them.

Or maybe it’s just me thinking they’re visible, because I know they’re there.

Okay, time for a subject change.

“And then it’s off to college,” I say, excitement building in my voice. “I know I tell you all the time, but, man, I can’t wait to play hockey at Boston College.”

It’s true. I am fucking beyond pumped for this opportunity. I want to shine as a forward on their team. Hopefully, I’ll make some good contributions and an NHL team will take notice of me.

Then the sky’s the limit.

Claire knows my dream is to play on a professional hockey team.

Smiling, she says, “After you graduate from college, next up is the big leagues.”

I blow out a breath. “Damn, I sure hope so.”

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