Page 76 of Revolve
“You know what this means?” he says.
“No, but I bet you won’t let us go until you tell us,” I say.
He smiles. “The peace has been restored. We get to play hockey together again, like it’s supposed to be.”
“Yeah. Exactly how it’s supposed to be.” There’s that jab again.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SIERRA
I HATE SUNDAYS.Not only is it the day before another week of what feels like endless classes, but it’s a rest day.
Lying on my back with my legs propped against the wall, I take a few breaths, letting the wind rattling the windows and The Paper Kites fill the silence. Lidia is very serious about rest, so off days mean no cardio, because she thinks I’m incapable of taking a break.
I am, but it’s not fun being called out for it.
Closing one eye, I count the dots on the ceiling, but my bedroom door pushes open and makes the three-digit number fall off my lips. I hear Scarlett call out that she’s leaving. She’s probably also the reason I see Dylan standing at my doorway. He’s wearing a gray Carhartt hoodie and black pants, both a little wet from the rain that hasn’t stopped since last night. Dylan tilts his head, assessing, before he comes to lie on the floor too.
No words pass between us as Dylan stretches his legs way past mine and stares up at the ceiling. We lie on the floor together like this is normal. Like he didn’t make me see stars in this very room just a week ago.
Something soft starts to play from my speaker, but I don’t register the song over my beating heart.
“Are you into weathermen or something?” Dylan asks, looking over at my laptop screen.
They’re showing the lantern festival again. “Oh yeah, Dale Thunderman is exactly my type.”
“Bald?”
“Charming.”
“You must love me, then.”
I snort. “Not the verb I’d use.”
“Why do you watch it? Isn’t it just a loop?”
“It’s comforting. And it’s all I could watch in the hospital without having a panic attack, so it kind of stuck,” I admit, then quickly change the subject. “Did you just come here to check on me? Texts exist, you know.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to see your face. And all the little wrinkles you get in between your eyebrows and around your eyes when you glare at me. It’s extremely attractive.”
I scrunch my face away when he tries to boop my nose. “Don’t make me injure you before the competition.”
He drops his hand gently on top of mine. I’ve held his hands countless times before, but this feels different. Especially when his pinkie curls around mine. “I’d still perform,” he says.
“While you’re injured?”
“For you, I would.”
Suddenly, this feels foreign, and I need words to fill the uncomfortable pit in my stomach. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to lie on the floor with me,” I say.
“Maybe I did.”
I bite my lip, turning to stare at the side of his face. His hair has grown longer, his skin is smooth, and I’m glad for his hand by mine, because I’m not sure if I could keep myself from reaching out and touching his face.
“It’s Lidia, isn’t it? She told you to check if I’m resting.”
He shrugs. “Not in so many words.”
