Page 100 of Need You to Choose Me

Alex

The shrieking gigglesthat escape Olive as I pull her toward the exit make me smile. “Lift your leg. Balance. Step up. Good.”

Once she’s standing on solid ground, I carefully guide her to the bench and sit her down.

I kneel in front of her and start unlacing her skates. “I think you did well today,” I praise, pulling the first one off. “You only fell twice. That’s better than I expected for a first lesson.”

“Technically, I fell three times. You caught me. I don’t know how I didn’t take you down.” She watches me as I undo her other skate and peel it off, setting it beside me. “Sebastian tried teaching me, but he gave up. Not that I blame him. I’m bad.”

“You’re not,” I reassure. “I’ve seen bad skaters. Trust me. I used to teach kids how to skate when I was younger. It was decent money.Theywere bad. It just takes practice and consistency. And patience.”

“And you have that?” she asks.

I look up at her through my lashes. “I learned how to be patient,” I tell her quietly. “Because of my mom.”

A softness crosses her face. “Then I’m lucky to have you.”

That does some weird shit to my heart—like somebody is tapdancing on it before grabbing ahold of the organ and squeezing.

I brush it off. “When do you have to go back to Lindon?”

The change of subject makes her stare at me for a brief moment longer before she answers. “I should leave Sunday toget back in time to prepare for classes. I need to get the rest of my books from the store.”

So we have a few days.

“Is there anything you want to do while you’re here? There isn’t much to see in Pittsburgh, but we could probably make a trip to Philly. I know you like history. Can’t get much more historical than that place.”

Her eyes find mine, her brows arched like she’s surprised by the suggestion. “I don’t know who you are sometimes, but I like this version of you. He’s a lot more carefree.”

I’m not sure I’ll ever be that, but I appreciate her optimism. “So is that a yes to Philly?”

“I went there when I was in sixth grade,” she admits, nibbling her lip. “For safety patrol.”

Safety—“You were one of the people who signed up for that?” There’s a small grin on my face. At the school I attended, the safety patrol were the nerds who monitored the halls and helped teachers during end-of-day activities. We called them teachers’ pets.

She playfully nudges my shoulders with her palms, barely moving me. “Don’t judge. I can see that look in your eyes. Sebastian was one too. Everybody who does it gets to go to either Philadelphia or Washington DC. I thought it would be cool to go.”

My lips twitch up. “Did you wear the orange belt and badge?”

She tries not to smile but fails. “Possibly.”

I’m picturing a young version of her in a neon orange safety patrol belt with those dumb badges they used to give everybody to make them feel important. Everyone I knew who did it thought they had actual authority. “Did you yell at people about sitting on the bus when it’s in motion?”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re mocking me.”

“I would never,” I say seriously, setting the skates down beside me and grabbing her shoes. I make quick work putting them on her feet and tightening the laces. “It’s cute. I never had any interest in doing that, but I was jealous when the field trip happened. Did you see the Liberty Bell?”

Her smile reappears. “Yes. And Independence Hall. And the Rocky statue, although I didn’t really care about that. I never liked those movies.”

“Don’t say that too loudly here,” I warn her.

She looks around the empty area. “I think I’ll be fine.”

I meet her eyes. “Yeah, you will be.” Once her feet are covered, I carefully drop them to the floor and peer up at her. “On a scale from one to ten, how hard are you going to fangirl the boys tonight?”

Olive gives me a contemplative look, puckering her lips in thought. “Eight point five. On a scale from one to ten, how nervous are you to let me interact with them?”

“Zero.”

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