My office door is half open when I get there. Nina disappeared for a moment and is now sitting at my desk, putzing around with my computer, hopefully clearing my calendar so I can just… obsess about Cecilia in peace, hopefully.
Rodrigo is sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk, trying very hard not to touch anything. He straightens into his skater posture immediately when he sees me, as though he’s been waiting for permission to exist in the space.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I reply, stepping inside. “I didn’t mean to make you wait, I got stopped by the physio on my way here.”
“Oh, no problem.”
“Alright, gang, I’m going to step out,” Nina says, already heading for the door.
“No!”
Nina stops mid-step. “Excuse me?”
Rodrigo lifts a hand, like he’s trying to keep the moment from collapsing. “Can you stay? Please?”
“Wow.” She looks at me and raises that damn eyebrow again. “I knew I was important around here.”
“I—uh. I want your perspective, too.” He nods quickly, then stalls, searching for a way to start the conversation. “I talked to Sandra.”
That gets my attention. Nina lets out a quiet hum andprops herself against the sideboard. I pull out the chair across from him and sit, turning enough to keep Nina in my line of sight. No desk between us.
“Okay.” I lean back. “What did she say?”
“And my parents, obviously,” he adds. “About… everything?”
“Everything,” I repeat.
He winces. “Yeah. That wasn’t very specific, sorry.”
Rodrigo takes a deep breath. His eyes go back and forth between Nina and me, and I don’t know if he’s searching for the least intimidating pair of eyes or if he really does not know how to articulate his thoughts.
“No, it wasn’t.”
He lets out another breath, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You know, about next year and stuff. What to do.”
I nod once, waiting.
“So, umm. I’ve been getting calls,” he continues. “Or, like… emails. Messages. Coaches reaching out.”
“I’m not surprised, Rodrigo.”
He huffs out a small laugh, and from the corner of my eye I can see Nina smiling at him. “Me neither. It’s just… different when it’s actually happening.”
I watch him for a second. The way he’s holding himself, the light tension in his shoulders, all of it carefully contained.
“So what did they say?” I ask.
“Sandra said to take my time,” he replies. “Which is helpful, but also not helpful.”
Nina mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “that sounds like Sandra,” but the conversation moves on.
“And your parents?”
“They think I should go somewhere with a strong program, but at the same time, they can’t afford for me to go to college in the US, so it also has to be a very competitive offer,” he blurts out. “Which—also not super helpful.”
There’s a pause. He shifts in his seat, then looks up at me more directly.
