Page 23 of Unravel Me

Jennie shrugs. “Not a big deal. We can teach her.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s…” I shake my curls out. Scratch my throat. Clap a fist into my opposite hand as I jump to my feet and walk three steps to the right, then spin, shove a hand through my hair, and point at nothing. “Yeah, that’s not what I meant. I mean, she, uh…she doesn’t know who I am.”

Jennie’s brows jump. Olivia’s jaw drops. Hank runs a hand over his mouth while letting out a long exhale. Cara grins, chuckles in a bit of an evil way, and starts writing on her clipboard.

“Hidden…identity…” She underlines it three times. “I love this trope.”

Olivia shakes her head. “Okay, let’s back up. When you say she doesn’t know who you are…?”

“I told her my full name and she simply gave me hers back. She thinks I’m a regular guy.”

“Well, youarea regular guy,” Jennie argues.

Cara nods. “A regular guy who brings in over fifteen mill a year between his contract as one of the best goalies in the NHL and all his brand sponsorships. Just a totally regular, blue-collar guy.” Her blue eyes stay on mine, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as she adds one more painfully slow line beneath the wordshidden identity.

I scrub my hands over my face and groan, flopping back onto the couch. “I fucked up. We haven’t even had our date yet and I fucked up.”

“That’s not true,” Olivia insists. “Has your job come up organically in conversation?”

I shake my head.

“Then you haven’t done anything wrong. You can tell her on Wednesday.”

I sit on her words for a few moments, contemplating everything that could go wrong rather than everything that could go right. Maybe Iama worst-case scenario expert, just like Rosie.

“I’m scared,” I finally admit. “I know it’s early, but something feels so different with her. It feels natural and easy and I’ve got fucking…” I throw my arm out and sigh, hating that I’m about to say this word. “Butterflies. When I’m with her, when I think of her…Everything feels new and exciting and hopeful. But what if I’m wrong about this?”

“You’ve spent two days with her, just being able to be yourself, without everything that comes with being a big NHL hotshot. Sure, it doesn’t seem like much, but without all that pressure, neither of you has any reason to be someone you’re not. Does Rosie seem like the type to be dishonest about who she is?”

“No,” I answer without hesitation. “She’s given me no reason to think she’s being someone she’s not. It’s just…”

“That’s what you know,” Jennie says, nodding. “I get it, Adam. You’re used to dating people who give you one side at first, to get your time and attention, and once they have it, they show you the real them.” She shakes her head, a sad look in her eyes. “It’s deceitful, and when all you’re looking for is a genuine connection, a person in your corner, it’s just…sad.”

My heart aches for Jennie, the shit she’s been through. She spent too many years being wanted for the wrong reasons too. It’s where she and I are similar, and I feel a little less alone.

But I want to be where she is now, on the other side of it. Did she feel this lonely while she waited? Did she feel like she didn’t even know herself? Because I feel like I’m losing pieces of myself along the way, and I hate it.

“There’s no rush,” Cara chimes in, gaze holding all the softness that lingers beneath the sarcasm and badassery. “Meet her where she’s at, let her do the same with you, and enjoy every moment of getting to know each other along the way.” She quirks a brow and tilts her head. “And if she turns out like all the others, or worse—” she gags “—she-who-must-not-be-named, then we get ten cartons of eggs and a Costco pack of toilet paper, and we go to her house in the middle of the night, and we—”

“No.”

“But we—”

“I’m twenty-six! I’m not TP-ing someone’s house, Care!”

Cara pouts, slumping in her seat. “Baby.” She flips to the next page on her clipboard. “Okay, we’ve settled on a picnic dinner, and telling her you’re rich and famous. Now let’s go over the important stuff.”

“That feels like the important stuff.”

She rolls her eyes. “No, Adam, the important stuff is what you’re going to wear, what you’re going to feed her, alcohol or no alcohol, sex or no sex, chocolate cake for dessert or—”

“Sex?” Heat rushes to my ears and I shake my head. “No sex. It’s a first date. I’m not even going to kiss her!” I look to Jennie and Olivia. “Right? No kiss? Yeah, you don’t kiss on a first date.” I sit back in my seat, relieved when Hank nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’d be moving way too fast. No kiss.” I sit forward. “Or wait. Does it send the wrong message if I don’t kiss her? Will she think I don’t like her? And if I do kiss her, long or quick? With or without tongue? Do I let my hands wander, or do I—” I look down at my clammy hands, wiping them on my shorts before throwing them in the air, giving a little wave “—keep my hands in the air where she can see them, so she knows there won’t be any funny business?”

The basement is silent for a full ten seconds.

Hank clears his throat. “I’ve never wished I could see more in my life than I do right now.”

The girls break out in howling laughter, and even I crack a smile, forcing myself back to the couch.

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