Page 51 of Wish You Were Mine
Or maybe she had and was doing exactly what we were both supposed to be doing.
Acting like none of it meant anything.
I blew out a slow breath.
Chill. Relax. Be cool.
You can do this.
After matching with a few girls this morning and messaging back and forth with one of them, I’d spent the rest of the afternoon inputting grades and doing my best not to think about tonight.
But ever since spotting Lucy at the coffee shop, I’d been wound tight.
And seeing her now—poised and focused—wasn’t exactly helping.
Yeah, I needed to line up an actual date. Fast.
So before heading down to meet Theo, I pulled up the thread I’d started with MaryAnn—the kindergarten teacher who seemed funny, smart, normal—and typed out a message.
Me: Hey, this might be jumping the gun a little, but would you be up for grabbing dinner sometime soon? My buddy just opened a Thai place downtown. I’ve been meaning to check it out and would love some company.
I hitsend, then switched over to my texts to double-check where Theo said he was sitting.
Theo: We’re sitting in section D, about halfway up. See you soon.
I scanned the stands, eyes skimming over clusters of students and families until I spotted Theo. His brown hair looked unruly, like he’d let his three-year-old daughter run her brush through it again. And perched neatly in his lap was Charlotte, her curls pulled into their signature pigtails, the only style Theo ever seemed to manage. She was wearing a tiny red leotard that looked suspiciously like a miniature version of the team’s uniform.
Of course she was.
I smiled despite myself.
I jogged down the cement steps, the echo of my shoes bouncing faintly off the walls as I made my way toward them. Theo spotted me and lifted a hand in greeting.
“Hey, man,” he said as I reached them. “Grab that seat.” He nodded to the chair on his left. “These two on the aisle are for my parents. Mom should be here soon, but Dad’s doing hisusual thing—making the rounds, chatting up the donor box, maybe leading a cheer in the student section. You know. Presidential duties.”
“Right,” I said, exhaling as I sank into the seat.
Dare I hope the presidential duties took up a good chunk of the meet? Because, yeah, if I only had to pretend I wasn’t hyper-aware of the fact that I’d kissed his daughter two weeks ago for part of the night, that would be great.
Still, as I glanced back toward the floor and caught another glimpse of Lucy prepping at the vault runway, that small comfort didn’t do much to quiet the thud in my chest.
This was going to be a long night.
And I was already in way over my head.
16
LUCY
I stoodat the edge of the mat, waiting for my turn on bars, the familiar buzz of chalk and adrenaline running through my veins. The uneven bars weren’t my favorite event—floor and beam were where I shined—but my routine tonight had one of the higher difficulty scores. Second highest of anyone competing, actually. So even if it wasn’t perfect, I still had a shot at the all-around.
Vault had gone well. Not my career best, but I’d scored a 9.85, which was good enough to put me in first on our team for now, with Nora trailing just a tenth behind.
But it was still anyone’s game.
My gaze drifted toward the stands, as it always did between events—out of habit, out of nerves, maybe just to ground myself.
Not that I was scanning the crowd for the new addition sitting with my family or anything…
