In front of them, standing on his own cloud, was Tolliver.
He seemed completely at ease.
His hockey jersey and sweatpants looked comfortable, and he held a hockey stick in his hand.
"So," Viola said, "you and Freya."
Tolliver smiled. "Yeah?"
"She seems happy."
"I hope so."
Lottie tilted her head. "What are your intentions?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"For our girl. You seem nice, Toll, but we have to look out for her. You understand that, right?"
Tolliver nodded. "Well, I intend on doing everything I can to keep her happy."
"Good answer," Viola said.
"Great answer," Lottie replied.
"But does he mean it?"
"I think he does, Vi. Look at that face."
Tolliver's earnest expression was enough to win even the hardest of hearts.
I should know.
I'd tried to resist him all summer. But since seeing those impossibly blue eyes staring intently into mine, I'd been a goner.
Viola hummed in thought. "Freya loves violin."
"I know," Tolliver said. "She has more talent in her pinky finger than I have in my whole body."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"It is."
"The point is you have to accept how much of her life revolves around music. This summer was kind of an anomaly. She wants to seriously pursue violin, and she needs someone who's behind her one hundred percent."
"I can be that person."
He paused.
"I want to be that person. If she'll let me."
Lottie sighed. "So romantic."
Viola nodded in agreement. "I think you might be good for her—besides the whole concussion thing."
Lottie gasped. "What? Who had a concussion?"
"Freya did. Because he can't play basketball."
