Page 44 of The Ex Puck Bunny
I’m not quite sure why I’m still here, other than I can be. Up until I left Cobbiton, anytime I remained stationary too long in this town, I’d start to feel twitchy. It was like I feared the past might catch up to me or the future might handcuff me to the spot and I’d never escape.
But now, it feels different. I can be here without looking for exits, strategizing how I’ll break out, or otherwise say goodbye to this place for good.
Life in Cobbiton was a prison sentence until now. I can’t put my finger on what changed, other than that I grew up and matured, but it’s a welcome feeling . . . and being described as a hometown hero, rather than the loser who was suspended, feels good.
Even better than that, though, is Heidi approaching me, hands full of dirty glasses.
“Don’t tell me you can’t pay the bill and are going to see if you can wash dishes?” she asks.
I tip my head toward the table and say, “The money and tip are on the table. I was reminiscing.”
“I thought you hated it here?”
I didn’t expect her to have noticed that. “Past tense. Cobbiton isn’t so bad.”
“You always had one eye on the door.”
I nod because she’s right. “Funny how life put us both back here. Humbling.”
“Irritating.”
My phone beeps at the same time hers vibrates in her apron.
Derek’s name flashes on my screen and guilt thickens in my throat. He gave me theI’m the big brother and I will beat youdownlook when we were at his place and it slipped out that I’d given Heidi a ride home from the Ice Palace. It’s not like I was keeping it a secret. Was she? Then again, that night he insisted I follow her home in case his Dad’s old Dodge broke down.
I open the text to find a video of Heidi and me on the karaoke stage.
She stares at a similar video on her phone but from a slightly different angle. “Looks like our performance was entertaining.”
Heidi’s phone vibrates again and mine blows up with messages. I try to keep up with them.
She shoves her phone into her apron. “I guess it’s gone viral.”
“Your brother said you have the golden touch.”
She opens and closes her mouth as if reflexively inclined to disagree, but then stops herself. She holds up a finger and then says, “For the record, I didn’t do anything special. We were just singing.”
As I watch the video on my phone, it’s obvious that’s not true. We weren’tjustsinging. That snowflake melting moment wasn’t in my head. The flashes of our gazes, the way we leaned close, sang in harmony, and then joined hands and bowed at the end was total chemistry.
I felt it then, but not now because Heidi stomps off, apparently regretting our duet . . . or just continuing to try to convince herself that she hates me.
Hurrying after her, I say, “I’m not sure whether to apologize or thank you.”
“The whole thing was dumb.” The ketchup bottles clang as she gathers them.
“Yes, but there’s no denying that it makes people happy.”
“Grady—” Her eyebrows pinch together as if I’m not making it easy for her to continue to fake hate me.
“Have you thought about my social media comeback campaign?”
“Yes. No.”
My spirits sink. “Yes, you’ve thought about it and it’s a no?”
“I’ve sort of thought about it, but I can only do so much multitasking. I have to finish closing so everyone can go home.” She gestures to the dining room.
“I’ll help.” I pitch in, turning over chairs, sweeping up popcorn, and restocking the server station with napkins while keeping up with Heidi.
