Page 34 of Afterglow
“I shouldn’t complain. It’s a job.”
“What would you do if you didn’t play?”
“No idea. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“That’s not true.” An ache settles into my chest, and I close the small space between our hands. Our pinkies nearly touch. “You’re good at having a kind, generous heart. You’re good at listening, like,reallylistening. You’re good at being dependable. And honestly,” I pause to breathe, afraid I’ll forget to, “all of those things are way more important than being good at hockey.”
Chapter 13
Behraz Irani Held My Hand
Fletcher
When her handdrops to the blanket, our pinkies overlap.
She straightens with a jolt, and my whole body seizes. Neither of us move from the position for a few moments. And then she does. Just her little finger. Not away. No. It shifts. Slow, delicate strokes. Testing. And that gentle touch? It feels stronger, burns hotter than the blazing sun before us. I want to grip that feeling, hold that tiny piece of her so close it sears into my soul and never let go.
Maybe she pities me after hearing my sob story, but I don’t care. If she wants to touch me, she sure as shit gets to.
“We should head back before it gets dark and the mosquitoes come to feast.”
I nod in agreement and pack up the food, then wait for her to stand before folding the blanket and tucking it into the basket.
The walk home is wordless. I stay on the streetside. Our hands brush every time they sway, like pendulums that keep missing each other.
Then, some asshole on an electric scooter comes flying down the sidewalk, almost knocking into Behraz. I pull her out of the way, but it’s too late. Her pretty pink dress is covered with a grimy splatter of mud.
“Hey!” I scream after him, but he doesn’t stop.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.” She tugs at my hand. “We’re almost home.”
I glare over my shoulder, but Bea holds tight, lacing our fingers together and replacing my anger with nervous tension. And our hands stay like that, locked together, until we get to the door of our apartment. I don’t want to, but when Bea’s hand relaxes, I let go.
“I’m gonna go get cleaned up,” she announces.
“Okay.”
Her bedroom door snaps shut, and I run to mine, launching myself onto the bed like an overexcited child. I roll to my back, kicking the mattress and covering my face with my palms.
Behraz Irani held my hand.
I pat my chest, calming myself through deep breaths, but it’s no use. My heart will never recover from this. My phone vibrates, cutting the swoonfest short. It’s a FaceTime call from Piper. I answer. My niece, Lila’s face appears on the screen.
“Hiya!”
“Hey, Lila! What’s up?”
“Uncle Fletcher,” she intones. “It’s my birthday!”
“I know, sweet girl. That’s why I called this morning. Your mom let you stay up late for your birthday, huh? Big 1-0!”
“It’s only 8 p.m. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Oops, sorry. You’re still a baby to me.”
“Uncle Fletcher,stopppp.”
“Okay, okay.”
