Page 43 of Home of the Brave

“I’m just saying that you went through a lot of trouble, and I don’t think you would have if you didn’t also think he was hot.”

“I would have done that for anyone I felt I had wronged.”

“All of it?” she pressed.

Okay, I probably wouldn’t have waited and talked to them after practice, but I wasn’t telling her that.

“Ha!” she pointed at me. “You admit it.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to! I saw the realization and acceptance.” She grinned. “You should work on your poker face.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You think he’s hot, and we know he’s single.” She ran her finger along the top of her laptop. “What a coincidence that you are also hot and single.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, but I’m––”

“If you even think of anything self-deprecating, I will slap you with a pillow.” Her eyes flicked to the bed, and I had no doubt she was serious. “You are gorgeous, smart, and he wouldn’t have stayed and talked if he wasn’t at least a little bit interested in you too.”

Was she right? He didn’t have to…he could have just walked away….he did stay.

“See?” she was beaming now. “There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“We don’t hate each other."

“Not anymore.” She slammed her laptop shut. “I’ve been staring at a screen for too long. We can finish this tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll keep going for a bit.” We had accomplished quite a lot, but I didn’t have anything else to do.

“I’m going out with an old colleague tonight. Do you want to come?” There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“A hot, old colleague?”

She smiled. “Maybe.”

There was no way I would become a third wheel when she looked so excited. “Have fun and stay out of trouble.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, go have fun.”

“You too,” she stood. “Don't stay in all night. Go see the city.”

I nodded, but had no intention of following through. “Bye, Cambrie.”

The door shut, and I sat for a moment, looking down at my screen. It was nearly six, and we only had a snack instead of a lunch, so maybe heading out for dinner wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

It wasn’t often I got to DC, and it did seem like a waste to spend the whole tournament in the hotel or arena.

But going out sounded exhausting. I could just order room service.

No, Victoria. Get up and get going.

I rolled off the bed and changed into a pair of jean cutoffs and a white tank, ready to head into the brutal humidity, and slid my bag over my shoulder.

Without a destination in mind, I walked out of the lobby and turned right. It was the general direction of the National Mall, and I figured I could take in the sights until I passed food that sounded good.