What if you tell her you’re going to the museum to meet up with Bodan for a lunch break? If the press or any of her friendssee us together, you have a built-in excuse. You’re hanging out while you wait for him to get a break. Totally innocent.
I hold my breath while I send it.
Using Bodan to our advantage, huh? It could work. I’ll text Bodan and see what time works for him, and we can meet there.
I exhale in relief and grin. Tomorrow just became the most important day of my life. It’s the day I finally tell Lottie exactly how I feel.
If everything goes well, we’ll finally be together.
twenty-two
Lottie
Itellmymomexactly what she wants to hear. I’m going to the workshop Bodan is teaching at the museum.
It’s technically not a lie.
I’m going.
I’m just going with Ty—one of the people my mom despises. On top of that, he accidentally confessed his feelings to me, thinking he was only talking to my brother, and now he acts like it never happened. The tension is so thick, I know that as soon as we get the right moment to talk, it will all be ripped wide open.
When I arrive, I find him standing near the stone steps, hands in his pockets. He’s got that lazy, one-sided grin that unravels any defense I may have had, and my heart lurches. I didn’tknow I had a rebellious streak in me, but the fact my mom has forbidden this makes this excursion all the more exciting. My entire life has always been neatly balanced on the edge of perfect public perception.
Frankly, I’m sick of the pressure.
His lazy smirk grows when he sees me. Rebellion seems to be calling my name, and I plow forward. “Hey, you.”
He’s wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. When he waves, the fabric pulls just enough across his chest to steal my breath. I wonder if he planned to look this good? The moment our eyes meet, something ignites.
“You came,” I say, which is stupid because obviously he did. He wouldn’t be standing here otherwise. My gut is doing gymnastics, sinking low with nerves, soaring high with anticipation, pulling taut with hope. I don’t doubt if this continues, at some point I will just stand and grunt as I clench my stomach, praying to steady it. Ever since I found out his true feelings for me, my bodily functions haven’t been cooperating.
“I said I would.” His eyes sweep over my face, and his lips part as if he wants to add something, but then he dramatically looks behind me and declares, “I was half-expecting you to show up with Toast or Crunch.”
“Don’t worry. I left them all at the farm,” I say solemnly. “I still feel terrible about your jersey. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” He chuckles quietly, like it’s just for me, causing something to loosen in my chest. Without another word, he opens the door, and we head inside, falling into step with each other. I stop when I spot a low-hanging banner with Bodan’s face. The title of the presentation reads:250 Years of the American Story,as presented by Bodan Bowey. There’s nothing wrong with the photo, but it hauntingly reminds me of the banners my mom makes for herself. I stare atthe sign, and a shiver—definitely not the good kind—spirals up my arm.
“That sign is uneven,” Tyson whispers.
I squint and follow the horizontal line it makes, and he’s right. It is noticeably higher on one side. “Great,” I mumble, with an air of teasing in my voice. “Now I can’t unsee it, and it’s all I can focus on.”
“Welcome to my world.” He chuckles. “I always notice things like that.”
“Sounds rough.”
“It can be.” He grins at me, and we slow near a display case. Wanting to talk about something other than the sign, I lower my voice to change the subject, “So, how was practice?”
“Good.” His smile twists wryly. “We’ve got a practical joker in the locker room. At first, I thought it was Taz. My jersey was sewn shut the first day, and then at the parade he was hanging out with someone who had a professional sewing kit. It was just too perfect—I still think he pulled some pranks—but now some things are happening that I don’t think he could manage. It’s been… interesting. And since the first couple of days, when the jokes were aimed at me, I ended up completely frazzled. Honestly, I probably didn’t make the best impression on the coach.”
“That’s not good.”
“Yeah, you know how first impressions linger, but I’m determined to win him over, and the team too. Scoring in the game helped.” His shoulders lift in a stiff shrug, though it’s not convincing. “It’s a tough situation since we only play together for a few weeks, and everyone is pushing to do their best. I really want to earn their respect.”
“From what I saw on my phone under the table, it didn’t look like you were struggling at all. You were amazing.”
“Oh, yeah?” His gaze holds mine, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip, that telltale pause when he’s figuring out what to say. “That’s your professional analysis?”
“It is.” I tilt my head. “Well, at least the free one. If you need a comprehensive one, I charge extra.”
