But I don’t make it that long.
Three days after I took her skating and all I could see when I closed my eyes was her smile and all I could feel were her fingers slotting into mine, I realized I needed her more than I needed most things—so I made Talon and Jay fake a stupid reason to throw a party to have an excuse to invite her over.
They didn’t need much convincing. They were more than happy to oblige, saying I hadn’t shut up about her since the date, and they’d do anything to go back to the relative silence of the house.
The only thing I said to them was that the date was great, and that Sloan was entirely inconceivable—because she was absolutely none of their business—but they claimed that was a ringing endorsement and the fact that I was more glued to myphone than I’d ever been, hoping she’d text me or call, was reason enough for celebration.
She comes to the party, hand in hand with Tia Valdez—who watches me like a hawk—but she doesn’t need to.
I’ve never been more interested in anything than making Sloan Joseph comfortable enough to smile.
She does smile. I even make her laugh.
I’m pretty high on myself over that one.
She sits with me in the corner of the living room, away from Talon and Jay and all the noise of the party, talking softly about things she likes and things she doesn’t—ancient civilizations rank pretty high, olives rank pretty low—and she listens more than anyone I’ve ever met when I tell her about hockey, but she’s more interested in asking me about geology.
She stays all night, until I notice her press her eyes closed, rubbing her palm across her chest, and when I come back from the kitchen, she’s not in the living room anymore.
She’s outside in the backyard.
“What are you doing out here?” The door clicks shut behind me, and Sloan whirls around when I walk down the worn wooden steps into the yard.
“Oh.” Sloan’s fingers tighten on her red cup, and a faint blush paints her cheeks. “It’s just ... quieter out here. And the snow—” She gestures to the giant flakes, drifting lazily down from the sky, illuminated by the light hanging above the back deck. “It’s my favourite when it snows at night like this.”
“It’s nice.” I reach forward, taking her cup, crouching down to set it on the frozen ground.
She blinks up at me when I stand again, closer to her than before, eyes brighter than all the stars in the sky, snowflakes catching in her hair and melting on her cheeks. “Are you going to kiss me now?”
I nod, eyes tracing the pout of her lips. “Yeah, Zlatícko. I think I will.”
She looks almost puzzled—a fleeting crease between her eyebrows and a wrinkle across her nose—but I cup her cheek, thumb sweeping under her left eye over a snowflake obscuring these three freckles that I think I’ll count to go to sleep.
She takes a tiny inhale, then my lips are on hers, and I think my life as I know it is over.
Now, she comes to my place at least twice a week.
I hate going longer than that without seeing her.
But we don’t share a single class. I have practice at least once a day, usually more, so my evenings are rarely free. Our schedule has us away for games more than we’re home.
I don’t mind going to her dorm. Tia has more sense than her brother and usually leaves to study so we can be alone—but practice runs late more often than not, and by the time I’m out of the shower, sometimes she’s just here.
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, usually in an oversized sweater, jeans or leggings, and a pair of my socks, with her textbooks spread around her and music playing softly on her phone.
Talon and Jay cut her a key the day after the party, when I couldn’t stop swiping my thumb across my bottom lip—right where hers had been.
Tonight, she’s got stacks of brochures and pamphlets spread out around her.
“What are these?” I point my chin towards the mess she’s got going before toweling off my still-damp hair.
“I went to that anthropology program open house tonight. They had a bunch of different booths with field study and internship opportunities,” she says, and I catch her shrugging when I toss the towel onto my desk chair.
“Oh yeah? Anything you’re interested in?” I drop down on the bed beside her, picking one up at random.
“Oh! That’s for the field study in Northern BC!” Sloan lights up, reaching forward to grab it from me. I circle her wrist, but she switches hands, holding it up.
Tugging her towards me instead—I’ve been thinking about her in my bed for the entire day—she holds up another pamphlet, eyes and smile bright. “Last year at this field school, someone found an entire pot!”
