Page 53 of The Ex Puck Bunny
Coming from a broken family, I hadn’t considered one of my own in much the same way I never played baseball because I didn’t do more than bunt during gym class. I have a strong ground game, not ball flying through the air at chest level skills.
Amidst Bunny’s gleeful giggles, Heidi appears in the doorway. Mr. Rice was right. We have grown up. Heidi must’ve taken a quick shower because her complexion is creamy and bright, her cheeks a bit pink. She wears an old Clarkson High School—home of the Red Hawks—crew neck sweatshirt. Her hair is damp and a bit wild.
“Hi,” I say, not trusting myself to speak more, otherwise it might sound a lot like,Can I kiss you?
“Hi?” she asks as if wondering what I’m doing here holding her child.
Unlike Trey, I’ve never boasted about the ladies loving me, but this kiddo does and won’t let me out of her sight. In fact, sheinsists I sit next to her while we eat. The meatloaf and corn salad with tomatoes, herbs, and feta is delicious, as always. We talk about our days. Mr. Rice is mostly interested in hearing about Knights stuff, but when Heidi tells us about her ideas for Bunny’s second birthday party, she has everyone’s full attention.
When we’re done, Mrs. Rice says, “You kids clean up. This little Bunny, Grandpa, and I are going to take our after-dinner stroll.”
Bunny runs to the door. I recall Mr. and Mrs. Rice always walking the dog through the neighborhood after dinner while Heidi and Derek tried their best to shove off the clean-up chore on the other.
“Some things never change,” Heidi mutters.
My gaze flicks to hers. Her expression glazes over and she sucks in a breath as if realizing what’s transpiring between us.
“Some things do,” I counter.
Her eyebrows lift slightly as if surprised and she quickly turns to the sink.
I tap on my phone and put on a music playlist, to which I recently added ABBA’s “Take a Chance on Me.”
“Do you want us to practice singing for our next viral video?” she asks as if already prepared with aNo way.
“I wouldn’t object.” I want to ask if she’ll help me with the social media stuff, but more than that, I want to see her smile, to enjoy this task as mundane as it is together.
Scrubbing a pan, she says, “I’ve seen the video diaries you’ve been doing.”
“And you didn’t like them.” I dry a plate, wondering why I didn’t receive a little Heidi heart.
“Did you check?”
I nonchalantly shrug. I totally did.
“It’s a good start, but I think Badaszek might be looking for more pizzazz . . . and corn.”
“Recording the mundane moments of my life feels super corny.”
Heidi laughs, lighting me up inside and we swap corn pun jokes—it’s a Cobbiton thing.
She says, “That’s just it, I can’t take it too seriously.”
“The LA Lions stuff with that routine of all of you in black with gold skates, plus, those lightning effects was serious.”
My gaze pins her in place, conveying one simple message. I liked what I saw—let’s just say the costume was snug and sparkly.
Her face flushes. “You’ve been doing your homework.”
More like being a total dweeb and creeping the girl I have a crush on. “What crush?” I say out loud because where did that thought come from?
The pans clatter as she passes another one for me to dry. “I didn’t say anything.”
I shake my head. No, no, no. I cannot have a crush on Derek’s sister. Can I?
She’s off-limits.Don’t look and definitely do not touch. I’m all too aware of what happened to Trey.
But I’m not like him. I guarantee Mr. Rice doesn’t text him before games. How do I know that with such confidence? There is not a single piece of LA Lions merch up in his sports den. Not a whisper of Trey’s career, whereas I’m on the walls along with Derek when he still played, plus his trophies and other mementos.
