I look at her. “I remember you sat behind me, and I never got a single thing done.”
“I behaved.”
“You let me borrow your pencil more than once.”
She laughs, and I remember it like yesterday. I searched my entire bag and then I gave up and turned around to ask her for a pencil. She gave me the one she was holding. Then I turned back around and asked for a piece of paper. She ripped one out of hernotebook. Before class ended, I returned the pencil but not the paper.
“I’m happy you came to Camden,” I say. “I mean –– I know it was something you really wanted.”
She says, “Yeah. And you, too. It looks like life is treating you well here. You look good.” She closes her eyes. “Sorry. I mean, you look happy here.”
“Better hockey program than the other schools recruiting me,” I say.
She grins at that. “You’re such rink rat.”
I smile at her. “You know me well.”
“Do you go home often?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“Why not?” she whispers gently.
I shrug. “No reason.”
She looks around. “It’s weird that I’m here, huh? I worked so hard to get my associate’s degree and get good grades to transfer here. And here I am.” She looks up at me with those big blue eyes. “I never meant to orbit you, just in case you think that.”
I smirk at her.
She shrugs. “I want to start fresh if that’s okay?”
I look at her, wondering what she means. If anything, I need a fresh start with her. I nod anyway because I can’t say no.
“Yeah.” I glance down at my water. “Yeah, we can do that.”
She smiles. “Perfect. I was afraid you were going to say no.” She slides off the barstool. “I need air.”
“Want company?” I ask.
She looks at me, surprised. “Sure.”
We go out the back door. The October cold hits me in the chest, and I’d forgotten about the cold. She’s in my jersey, and the jersey isn’t warm enough. I almost saylet me grab my hoodie for you.
We sit on the porch swing. There’s a foot of space between us. The party hums through the wall behind us. The yard is dark. A few people on the side patio are still smoking, soft red dots in the dark. A jack-o’-lantern on the porch railing has burned down to about a centimeter of candle and is flickering inside its own face.
A long beat of silence.
“It’s so cold, but I’m drunk, so it feels okay,” she says. “I’m tired.” She doesn’t move. “Gianna said we could crash here. Is that weird?”
She looks over at me.
I shake my head. “No, Benson is G’s brother, so of course you can crash here.”
“Promise it’s not weird? I don’t want to freak you out.”
I shake my head. “Nah, don’t worry about me.”
“But you might be weird in the morning.”
