Page 27 of Overtime
Her eyebrows go up. “You didn’t like her?”
“Hell no.”
“Oh, maybe we can be friends, Aran Rodriguez, even if you’re a meat-eater.” She leans closer to inspect my laptop screen. “But first, don’t forget I’m your tutor. Why haven’t you written anything?”
“Because it’s a nightmare I want to wake up from.”
“Do your work, Aran.” Her face twitches like she wants to smile but is fighting it.
I try. Ireallytry. But all I manage is to type a paragraph that basically summarizes the abstract of the case study, and then her alarm goes off, signaling the end of the session. I’m only too glad to slam my laptop shut.
We both stand up from our chairs at the same time. I put my laptop in my backpack while she stretches, and her gray dress snags on the page of her open journal. It stays open to that list she’s been working on, which includes what she makes per student, her itemized expenses, and a bunch of things she’s apparently willing to sell. At the bottom, she has underlined the wordsit’s notenough, ugh.
Before I think too hard about it, I say, “I can help you with that.”
“Oops.” She snaps the journal shut. “No, it’s okay. I don’t need an accountant. I also couldn’t pay you for your time, as you clearly just saw.” An awkward laugh follows after that.
“Not with that. With moving.”
She releases the handle of her bag, and it flops back onto the table. “What do you mean?”
“My friend Ryan’s looking for a roommate,” I say as I wind my black scarf around my neck.
“Oh. I, um. I’d prefer to room with a girl.”
“She’d be amused to hear this.” I shrug into my coat.
“Oh, wow. Please don’t tell her I put my foot in my mouth before I even met her.”
“You do that a lot,” I say, mimicking her from when she pointed out my grunting.
She winces with that tiny smile of hers. “Yep, that’s me. Never a dull moment. Anyway, I don’t know if I could afford it, but I’d love to talk to Ryan.”
“Then meet me after practice outside the arena.”
“What, today?”
With my chin, I gesture to the journal still on the table. “I read the letters ASAP, and I know my eyes didn’t deceive me.”
“What time does your practice end?”
“Six thirty.”
“Got it. See you there.”
I shrug on my backpack, and with a nod, I turn away. And bury my face in my scarf so no one can see how hard I’m freaking smiling.
CHAPTER 10
MADDIE
Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, the world has tilted on its axis. That’s the only reasonable explanation as to why I’m going to meet the captain of the Thunder Bolts for a fourth time. This is the St. Cloud equivalent of, I don’t know, suddenly meeting Chris Evans at a bar and then agreeing to hang out again the next day.
It’s wild.
Also wild: the fact that I don’t know what to do with myself. I already tried walking into the building, but the doors are locked. And it’s cold enough out here to freeze my nose hairs. But I can’t afford the gas it would take to run my car for so long. So I’ve been alternating between hanging out in my car for a bit and hopping outside and moving my body so it stays warm. I only stop when I skid on black ice in the parking lot and figure spending money on gas is better than spending money on a trip to the ER.
Because it’s nearing seven p.m. and no one’s out.
