We get started on planning out our presentation, outlining the specific points we want to make before figuring out how we’re going to present it. This is our final chance to show how hard we’ve worked and how badly we want to be considered for the SEI, so we work mostly collaboratively. I don’t have many objections to any of her ideas and neither does she to any ofmine. It’s like we’re on the same wavelength for once. It’s nice being able to bounce ideas off each other without arguing.
We work for hours, until well after the sun sets, then I drive Scarlett back to her apartment. She talks a little about the interview she’s planning to do with her aunt, and I offer to go with her. It takes the entire car journey to persuade her, but by the time she’s slamming my car door and running inside to the warmth of her apartment, I’ve managed to convince her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: SCARLETT / EVAN
SCARLETT
Since Wren started dating one of the most annoying men on the planet, I’ve been both invited to and forced against my will to parties at Miles’s house.
I can’t really complain because Miles is good to her.Sogood to her. After they started fake-dating as a plan to keep Wren’s figure-skating team afloat and get Miles back on the ice after losing his best friend, they found a lot more comfort in each other than they were expecting. It was beautiful and frustrating watching the entire thing unfold, but now they’re happier than ever, and I love seeing my best friend’s face light up whenever she’s around him.
Even now she’s making googly eyes at him from across the room. I grimace over the lid of my beer can and try not to let Wren or Kennedy see me, or else they’ll lecture me about how beautiful love and romance is. Trust me, I get it. I can see the appeal. I’m just not fully sold on it yet.
Miles takes these game nightsveryseriously. He and Kennedy plan the entire thing in advance, setting up different games and teams with a carousel-style program, so we all get to play against each other. Most of Miles’s hockey team are here and some of their friends, so his house is packed with people, music, food, and games.
Tonight is supposed to be a distraction from everything else going on, but I can’t stop thinking about the presentation Evan and I are going to give after Thanksgiving break and the fact thathe’s offering to help with my list. Accepting the help from him was weird enough the first time, but actually having to spend time with him outside of anything related to class is going to be even weirder.
Kennedy twirls to stand in front of me and Wren, a determined look in her eyes as she places a hand on each of our shoulders. “Weneedto win tonight,” she says, and I swear the woman’s eye twitches.
“We always win,” I say, laughing.
“I know, but tonight, wereallyneed to.”
Wren and I share a look. “Why? What’s going on?” Wren asks.
Kennedy glances behind her, as if she’s looking for someone. “Harry’s here and I can’t let him beat me again.”
I suppress a grin.
Harry Butler is a goalie for the NU Bears. He came here on a full-ride scholarship from Sydney, and according to Miles he’s the best goalie their team have had in years. He’s a grade below all of us and he’s been following Miles around since the day he got here.
At the party where Wren met Miles for the first time, Harry may have crushed us all in a game ofJust Dance. I have never claimed to be a good dancer, and Kennedy and I somehow got the blame for losing the game that landed Wren and Miles their first date. Kennedy still hasn’t let Harry live it down, and since then they’ve been as thick as thieves, always sneaking off together on late-night drives and having movie nights in our apartment.
“You know, you’re the only one who is keeping up this feud between you two,” I tell Kennedy.
“That’s a bit rich coming from you.” I glare at her. She glares back for all of five seconds before her dimples pop out and sheforgets all about it. “And it’s different with Harry. He’s my best friend. It’s our banter.”
“Ouch,” Wren mumbles and I pretend to hold a hand to my wounded heart.
“Secondbest friend,” Kennedy connects. “You two are tied, obviously.”
I give her a proud smile, before it quickly turns into a frown when I look at The Whiteboard that we let Miles borrow to write up the games and the scores. Kennedy must catch my expression because she jumps in front of me, standing on her tiptoes to look at our team name on the board.
She whips her head back to us. “Arm wrestling? Seriously? Who thought that would be a good idea?”
I snort. “You did.”
“Right . . . Well, Wren’s the athlete. She should go first.”
Wren’s eyes widen in alarm. “Absolutely not. I’ll go last.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll go first.”
A loud buzzer sounds somewhere in the house before Miles’s voice rings out from the speakers of the karaoke machine Wren gifted him for his birthday. He announces what each team should be doing, before hopping off the coffee table.
The arm-wrestling station is set up inside the den, a small coffee table marked with red and blue tape for where we should rest our elbows. It all looks so professional that I give Kennedy a thumbs-up before rolling up my sleeves. And because it’s flu season, and Evan is clearly very particular about germs, they’ve set up a hand-washing station in the downstairs restroom for anyone participating in the arm-wrestling.
After scrubbing my hands clean, I take my seat, waiting for my opponent.
