Page 12 of Love is a Game

“This question says the sum of x is seventeen, but that’s not the answer any of us got,” Gracie whined, pointing to a practice problem. She seemed to be the leader of the study group that had been coming each week for the last two months. She was a smart girl. Andrew knew how much it bothered her when they had to ask him for help.

“If you all got it wrong, then it must be a typo,” he teased. “Let’s take a look at this.”

Ten minutes of calculations and debate later, they not only had the right answer, but they each understood how they’d come to the wrong one in the first place. Andrew was rusty, there wasn’t much call for solving algebraic equations in the legal world, but it was coming back to him.

“Okay, anything else?” he asked, eager to get back to the documents on his desk.

“Let’s grade them and see how badly I beat you all this time,” said Evan, a junior trying to get an early start on the exam.

“It’s not about beating each other,” Andrew told them. “In school, your only competition is yourself.”

By the rolled eyes and sideways glances, it was clear the words sounded as ridiculous to them as they did to him, but it felt like the kind of thing an adult should say. He had an opportunity in his interactions at the library to pay penance for the things he had done before moving back to Briar Cove. Helping these students to succeed felt like a good place to start, and if he could tone down Evan’s sense of competition, that would be good too. He knew all too well how that could end up.

“Mr. Price,” Evan said, raising an eyebrow in a condescending gesture, “millions of students apply for college every year. Our only competition is them.”

Andrew raised a finger, prepared to counter that point, but he had no response. Evan was right, of course. Andrew hadn’t coasted his way to Stanford. He’d spent just as much time studying as the kids in front of him, probably more. It hadn’t been enough though. Sure, he’d gotten into his dream school, but Sadie had come out ahead of him in their class rankings. It shouldn’t still bother him, but it did.

He was saved from coming up with a retort by Gracie. “Can we have five more minutes?” she asked.

“What?” Andrew glanced at his watch. “Oh! No, sorry guys. I have to close up. Make sure you clean up after yourselves.”

It was already six o’clock and he hadn’t even begun his end-of-day checklist. Usually he had at least a couple of uninterrupted hours to work on his landmark application, but when the library was busy, it happened in stolen ten-minute spurts. On nights when he didn’t have plans, he often stayed at the library late. He even let lingering patrons stay behind if they were quiet, but that night he had errands to run before dinner.

He waved goodbye to each of the teens as he turned off the computers. The children’s section was a mess but it would have to wait until the morning. He took one last wistful look at the papers in his office before turning off the lights and locking the library door.

It was still strange driving through town, even after two years. It was a hard transition from California highways to a place with twenty-five-mile-per-hour speed limits and one single stoplight. There was never any traffic, though, which was a nice change. If Andrew found himself without plans on the weekend, he would often drive down Highway 101 and back. He felt like his little sports car deserved it now and then.

That night, though, he rolled steadily along Main Street, waving at everyone he passed on the way to the grocers. That was something he did like. After being so anonymous in LA, it was nice to be known again.

As he headed into the store, he glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes until dinner, he had to make it quick. He hated to rush, but he knew his fridge was nearly empty, and if he didn’t buy groceries then, he wouldn’t have anything to eat for breakfast in the morning. He grabbed a basket and swore to be better about shopping on the weekends before heading to the cereal aisle.

Once he had gathered a few days’ worth of food, Andrew stopped by the flower display. It was there, over a bouquet of daisies, that he spotted a familiar blonde ponytail in the produce section. Sadie.

He’d been preparing for this interaction for days, but that didn’t mean he was ready. It was one thing to imagine asking Sadie for help. Now that he had the chance to actually do it, he wasn’t sure he could.

He squared his shoulders and let out a long breath. He had to. It would be best for everyone if he smoothed things over with her now, privately. He just had to be nice. That was easy. He was nice to everyone; he could figure out how to be nice to Sadie Connor.

Probably.

“For the Cypress,” he muttered under his breath as he put the flowers into his basket and moved to follow her.

She was so engrossed in her inspection of the apples in front of her that she didn’t seem to notice him approach. He worked his features into what he hoped was a friendly expression and then tried to act surprised as he said, “Sadie, hey.”

She looked up and groaned at the sight of him. Not a great start.

“This is a coincidence, huh?” he asked, internally kicking himself. Surely he could do better than that.

“I’m pretty sure this is just small-town living,” she muttered, bagging her apples and putting them into her cart.

“Well, yes.” When she moved along to the peppers, he followed, causing her to eye him warily.

Be nice. Maybe a compliment? He could tell her she looked good. She did, actually. Her soft-pink blouse brought out the color of her eyes and the way her black pencil skirt hugged her hips.

He picked up a red pepper, checking it intently for bruises as heat climbed up his neck. Probably best to avoid compliments.

“Can you please move? I need to reach those.”

Andrew looked up and saw her pointing toward the carrots. He stepped out of her way, thinking hard. He was running out of time. He needed to change his approach.

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