I’d told them about the list the second I got home from my parents’ house last week, but they think it’s hilarious and that I can easily complete everything by the end of the year. I’ve been trying to tell them that it’s not that simple, but they still don’t get it. Like a lot of things to do with my family, neither of them fully understands how it feels, and that’s okay. They do their best to support me in whatever way they can, but sometimes I know they think I have it all really easy.
“I’m fine. Just irritated, I guess,” I explain, fiddling with the tassels of a cushion. “I got paired up with Evan for a project for my fashion and business class. And he, as usual, thinks it’s great we’re working together.”
Wren shrugs. “Things could be worse.”
“Really? How could things possibly get any worse?”
“He could actuallyhateworking with you and be making your life a living hell.”
“I honestly would prefer it.” Kennedy and Wren share a look like they want to say something, before turning to me, the expression gone. “What was that look?”
“Nothing,” Kennedy says innocently. They both share another look, but I don’t have the energy in me to decipher their secret-eye-contact-mind-reading thing right now.
“Oh, and I haven’t got started on that list either,” I add, rubbing salt into my own wounds. I’ve hardly had time for anything this week after catching up on the homework I was behind on and now starting this project.
“We did offer to help you with it,” Wren mentions.
“As much as I wouldloveyou to, the last time I asked you guys for help trying to do something for my family, we quite literally ended up in jail.”
“It was a holding cell,” Kennedy mumbles.
“Still jail.”
Wren’s cheeks turn pink like she’s still embarrassed about what we did when we were teenagers. “Okay, fine, don’t accept our help, but you need cheering up and Kennedy needs some eye candy. And I know the exact place to do it.”
“Karaoke?!” Kennedy asks hopefully.
“No, the—”
I close my eyes. “Wren, if you say the h—”
“The hockey rink,” she finishes, jumping up from the couch. “Miles has a game today and I promised him we’d all go.”
“You didn’t think to ask first? What if I was really,reallybusy right now?”
“But you’re not, so . . .” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I can’t help the laugh that comes out of me. “Wear your jersey if you haven’t burnt it yet.”
“It’s still on my to-do list,” I grumble.
EVAN
I knew I’d regret promising to go to Miles’s hockey game because after the day I’ve had, I’d much rather be anywhere else but here.
There is no amount of staring-at-the-wall time or caffeine that can make sitting through tonight’s game any easier.
I really shouldn’t complain too much though, because the look on Miles’s face when he sees meslightlymakes up for it. Our friendship has grown in the last year or so—especially after Xavier and Miles lost their best friend and our other housemate Carter in freshman year. I didn’t want to bombard them with my existence, but I still tried to be there for them. I cooked most nights, cleaned up when they were too tired to, and made sure the house was still standing. Since then, I’ve kind of taken a back seat. Maybe if I didn’t, I wouldn’t find spending so much time with them this irritating. But this is me trying to change that. This is my contribution to our friendship. One I hope my dad will recognize.
I make my way to the seat Miles has reserved for me behind the players’ bench, and I immediately realize how out of place I look. I still haven’t bought a jersey, so I settled on an NU Bears cap, wearing it backward to hide my messy hair, and a plain cotton T-shirt. I always feel a little weird when I have too much skin exposed, but I try not to think about it.
I’m making myself comfortable when I see the three girls making their way toward me. Wren is already scanning the ice as the team warms up, trying to find her boyfriend, and Kennedy is chanting something unintelligible as she shakes Scarlett’sshoulders. Scarlett, as usual, looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.
When they get to our seats, Wren and Scarlett stop by the boards to grab Miles’s attention and Kennedy takes the seat next to me. I’ve always liked Wren and Kennedy. They’re both nice, funny in their own way, and they think whatever is going on with me and Scarlett is hilarious. I’m just glad someone else besides me thinks it’s somewhat amusing.
Kennedy leans into me and whispers, “If you look at her any longer, she’s going to notice.”
I straighten, and I’m pissed that I don’t have any sleeves to fuss over to distract from my nervousness. I don’t know Kennedy that well, but she’s always friendly and makes the effort to talk to me when we’re alone—even if 99.9% of the time, it’s about Scarlett.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, taking my eyes off the back of Scarlett’s head. I tap my knee three times, but Kennedy’s gaze is still on me, and the itch isn’t gone. I tap it again nine more times, until my breathing returns to normal.
