Page 124 of Overtime
Again, the bell chimes, and this time, a massive guy walks in. My heart leaps into my throat, but it’s nothim. This one’s too white, with hair too red, and he’s dragging a girl in by their joined hands. A smile forms on my face when they face forward, and Ryan speaks first.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? The traitor and the nice half of the double-A battery.”
Christine rolls her eyes. “Traitor my ass.” Mom clears her throat in that teacher way of hers, and Christine straightens. “Um, my behind, I mean.”
“Mom.” I hiss at her. “People are free to talk how they want. Not everyone is your student.”
“You’re my daughter, though. So don’t you use that language again, missy.”
I’ve decided to accept her nagging me about language to her heart’s content, because since the hospital saga, she hasn’t mentioned any of my fat rolls even once. Is this growth?
But also, she doesn’t have to know my new hockey romance is packed with cuss words. It’s not like hockey players are known for being clean-mouthed.
“Anyway, we came to support you. What do you want us to do?” Archie asks, looking around as if this is the first time he’s seeing all these strange artifacts the rest of us call bookshelves and the small and curious objects in them that we know as books.
I wonder if that’s how Aran looked the first time he walked into the library for his tutoring session with Wyatt.
No, I shouldn’t think about him. I’ve been really good about it this week.
Somehow, after he took me to the hospital, I thought he might reach out to ask how I was doing or something. I anticipated it and dreaded it in equal measure. But he didn’t, and that disappointment was like a brand-new heartbreak.
I had to remind myself again that he would’ve been a good Samaritan to anyone in that situation and that there was nothing special about that day. He was probably at the library to meet his new tutor or to study. And he sat across from me, watching me, because… well, I have no idea why. But it definitely wasn’t because he has a crush on me or something. We’re not in middle school.
So, anyway, we’re back on the getting-over-Aran train. Choo freaking choo.
“Let me explain. It’s very easy,” Ryan says matter-of-factly. “You grab one of these books from this pile here. Then you askMaddie to sign it. And then you go over there to the nice lady at the counter and pay for it.”
“Bravo.” Meg starts clapping. “We should’ve printed that and put it on a poster, to be honest.”
I laugh. They’re such a strange combination, and I can tell that after this, my sister and my roommate will become besties. I’ll be the third wheel, and I’ll love every second of it.
It’s even funnier when the two Thunder assistant captains follow the instructions to a T. As I’m signing their books, the door opens again, and another massive guy stands in line, followed by another one, followed by another girl. And they turn out to be Jamal, Mark, and Amber, who got held up finding a parking spot because they all came together.
No Aran.
My smile turns tighter, because here I am again, disappointed. What right do I have when I’m the one who excised him from my life? Being lovesick sucks.
After a few pictures and some chatter, they leave to hang out around town before the Bolts’ big semifinals game later tonight. I heard through the grapevine—a.k.a. the Strikes—that the Bolts’ coach started the backup goalie for the past two games, but tonight, Aran will start as usual. I wonder how he feels about that. Is he in good condition? I hope?—
I shake my head hard. When am I going to stop thinking and worrying and yearning for him?
Pushing my chair back, I tell my bodyguards, “Excuse me. I need a bio break.”
“Yes, of course.” Ryan pretends to make way for me in the middle of an invisible crowd.
Laughing, I say, “Dork.”
Ryan touches her ear and nods to herself before grinning. “Copy that. Back at you. Over.”
I love her. At least Aran did right by introducing us.
Swatting her arm away, I make my way to the staff bathroom at the back and splash some cold water on my face. I smooth out my marigold dress, push my hair back so my strawberry earrings are visible, and nod to myself.
“You got this, Maddie. You’re an adult now. A published author and a confident woman. This too shall pass. You’ll get over him, and if not, you’ll write a bestselling book about it.” I pump my fists and walk back out.
And there he is.
Bulky guy. With skin the right shade of brown. The buzz cut. The square jaw. The deep-set black eyes that find me instantly. Dressed in a black suit, white button shirt, and Thunder Bolts’ blue tie. My book is tucked under his arm, and he has a wooden box in his hands. It’s tied with a ribbon in the exact color as my dress. I even glance down at myself to confirm. As if somewhere along the way, he realized this is the color that makes me happiest.
