Page 51 of Taking It To Overtime
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” Tandy shakes her head. “You’re going to go to dinner with that man. You’re going to chat and make goo-goo eyes at each other and get to know the adults you’ve grown into. The lives you’ve createdbecauseyou went your separate ways. And then you’re going to figure out the next steps together. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a mock salute.
“Fuck you too,” Tandy says. “I gotta go, babe. Love you. TEXT ME.”
I return the sentiment as she hangs up the call and then I swipe on some mascara and lip stain, and slide into my sandals. I’m halfway to the door before I double back for my jewelry box and take out the delicate silver chain and simple hoop earrings.
Robbie is standing in the hall, his shoulder leaning against the door frame. He isn’t checking his watch or scrolling his phone. He’s just standing, waiting. For me.
“Sorry,” I smile as I tuck my phone into my bag. “I didn’t mean to make us late.”
His head comes up as the door snicks shut, staring at me as a smile blooms across his lips.
“You didn’t,” he says. “You seemed upset that she said all those things. I wanted to give you an out.”
He holds his hand out for mine and I take it. His fingers curl around mine and it feels like that art shoot I did early in my career. I had to hold my breath, submerged in a frigid pool of water as ribbons of sheer fabric floated around me. They kept me under as long as I could manage, trying to get the perfect shot as quickly as possible. And I let them, desperate to be easy-to-work-with to inch open the door I’d barely cracked open. That first gulp of air when I finally went to the surface….it was equal parts pain and relief.
It was like dying and being born at the same time.
There isa distinct lack of restaurants in Kimmelwick, and the surrounding areas, so I had to get creative and enlist Jack’s help. And my mother’s. And then I had to glare the teens into submission when they caught wind of my date’s name.
“Vera Novak?” One boy with copper curls asked, his mouth hanging wide open. “The Vera Novak?”
“Who?” Another kid skated up. Then another and another until I was surrounded by pads and sticks and curious faces.
“She’s a fucking snack.” The red head said and then winced at my glare. “Sorry coach. She’s like a supermodel or something.”
“No cap?”
The teen shook his head and there was a collective ooh from the gathered crowd.
“Seriously. Look her up. She’s fine as hell.” The kid turned to me. “Think you can get her to come watch our scrimmage tomorrow?”
“Not with the way you lot are objectifying her.” Spags sprays a fine mist of snow and ice over the group as he slides into a stop. “Get back to the blue line. We have drills. Unless you want the red team to crush you this afternoon.”
I watched as the kids scrambled to follow my teammate’s suggestion, bumping shoulder pads as they all try to head forcenter ice, before turning to check that it is in fact, Jack Spaeglin standing next to me.
“See?” He grinned. “I occasionally listen when Tristan lectures me. Be sure to share that during your scheduled check-ins.”
“I will,” I said. “She’ll be so proud she might even give you a sucker.”
Spags’ brows drew together, and he scratched his chin with his gloved hand. “A what? Oh.” He stuck his tongue out and licked an imaginary candy. “A lollipop. You’re funny. I get it now, how you snagged a dime piece like Vera, because it definitely isn’t your looks.”
When I went to slew foot him with my stick, he added, “Don’t forget you need me to set everything up for tonight.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I don’t have the brain cells left to worry about Spags’ follow through. Not once Vera opens the door and looks up at me as if I’m a foot-long meatball sub from Giacomo’s after a grueling two-a-day. Every single thing about her designed to drive me out of my beleaguered brain. But as I pull the car into the small parking area and kill the engine, I can finally worry about what will meet us. His “Don’t worry, I got it,” when I dropped him off, didn’t inspire a ton of confidence.
It’s balmy out, everything hazy in the sun’s last ditch early evening glow. I jog around the car to open Vera’s door for her and I swear I feel her touch like an electric shock as she slides her hand into mine.
“I guess you weren’t kidding about the no reservations thing,” she says, and I wonder for the millionth time if I’m making a horrible decision, but she smiles as she gets to her feet and brushes her hands down the front of her dress.
I shake my head, “For once in our lives, I thought we deserved no time restraints.”
There’s always been something on the horizon for both of us. An audition, team try outs, juniors, her modeling contract. We’ve always had one foot out the door, ready to start the rest of our lives. This week is a game of Russian roulette. Each moment together a chance to condemn us both, another empty round and a click and a sigh of relief. We keep pulling the trigger, and if this is the way I go out, then so be it. I just want Vera to survive, too.
Her eyes skip between mine. The breeze picks up a strand of hair fallen out of her clip. It catches on her lower lip and my throat goes dry. The world grinds to a halt.
