Page 41 of Icing Hearts

“Vince has been chatting me up quite a bit, too. He tried to sit next to me on the bus, but Tory stole his spot and then we went to Tory’s party together and went out to eat beforehand. Then for breakfast the next day. He and Tory are pretty competitive.”

“You and Vince had a sleepover?” Jack raises his eyebrows.

“No, actually. I slept in Tory’s room. But nothing happened.”

“Vince wants you too? Since when are you so popular with the titans of high school?”

I grin and smooth my hair back with my wrist, heading toward class. Jack opens the to-go box and holds it while I eat the avocado toast. “Being hockey manager has its perks. I’ve got my pick of the dapper darlings.”

Someone clips Jack’s shoulder, and he weaves around them to keep up with me after falling behind a couple paces. “But you’ll choose Amato, obviously. You’ve been obsessed with him for…forever.”

“I don’t know that Tory is mine for the taking, Jacky Boy.”

He scoffs loudly beside me, and I look over as we turn the corner. I smile and greet Clover who is walking alongside Vince. They’re both seniors but I didn’t know they were friendly enough to walk to class together—or even through the halls side-by-side for any length of time. She grabs my elbow as we pass by one another and says, “Hey, sit with me at lunch today.” Her broad smile is sincere, and I nod excitedly, “Of course, girlie.”

Vince calls after, “See you then!”

Jack eyes me with an I-told-you-so expression plastered across his face. “Looks like you have a lunch date with Vince.”

“You better not desert me.”

“Um, Clover is my literal dream girl so I won’t be missing out.”

“Perfect. You can see how Vince acts and get a read on the situation.”

We shuffle into class and take our seats next to each other. Jack and I made sure to get seats together on the first day of math this year. We’re both in a senior class.

At lunch I make my way over to Clover’s table. Jack joins me and Vince is soon to follow. A couple other hockey players sit down beside me at the long rectangular table, and I marvel at the odd little crew. Some of Jack and my usual lunch table buddies jump at the chance to sit with senior hockey players.

Vince’s knee brushes mine, and I pretend not to notice. He’s one of those people who always has a body part bouncing. Either his fingers are tapping, or his head is bobbing, or, like now, his knee is shaking against mine. I act as though it doesn’t affect me, but it does. I’m nervous and warm and want him to keep touching me.

Then Tory sits down across from me, and I suddenly feel like I’ve betrayed him—or rather that I’m in the midst of the betrayal. Tory looks down at the table, as if he can see through it, at Vince’s leg against mine.

I move away.

“What’s with the glasses?” Vince asks Tory around a monstrous bite of his turkey sandwich.

“Ask Charity.”

Everyone looks at me. I try to kick Tory under the table, but he wraps his ankles around mine. A sweet prison. He leans back in his seat, maintaining his secret hold on my leg, and laces his fingers behind his head.

“Um…well,” I stammer. How exactly do I explain that Tory saw me in my glasses in his bedroom without any follow-up questions? I mean, Vince must have known I slept up there, but I don’t really want it broadcasted at the lunch table. He smiles, and it’s vindictive and I want to kick him with my other leg but he probably wouldn’t even give me the satisfaction of a reaction.

Sometimes his unflappability enrages me. Or maybe it’s when he chooses to be unflappable versus when he’s fiery. Tory is just so darn calculating—keeping every little show of emotion under wraps until he decides to let it out. I wonder if he’s ever actually let anyone in. Maybe his walls are as high as mine. Maybe he has a lot to hide too.

“I simply mentioned to Tory that I have glasses so we joked that everyone who has glasses should wear them.” I sound stupid.

Ronnie Bertram, the goalie of our hockey team, leans forward. “Mmm, I’m not really getting the funny part.” I look back at his spectacled face. He wears glasses every day, and he’s right, wearing glasses isn’t funny.

I look to Tory for support and find none. He’s beaming now. Jack and Clover are next but they’re both just as befuddled about where this pointless conversation is going and seemingly unaware that something deeper is going on.

“And I think you’re forgetting some things about the interaction, Charity. I saw you in your glasses, remember? A couple times, silly. You’re so forgetful sometimes.”

“No, I’m not. I just…” I flounder for a few more seconds, and it’s Vince who saves me.

“Well, whatever,” he says. “I’ll wear mine tomorrow, too. I think you’ll look cute with glasses.” He gives my shoulder a bump with his and I return the gesture.

“She doesn’t,” Tory says, full of venom.

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