Page 45 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

Once I’m buckled into my car, I idle for a few minutes, trying to name what just occurred. I don’t know what the bicycle snow globe means to him, but it feels important that he allowed me to see it. A Big Moment in our growing friendship. Like he’s trusting me with a secret part of himself.

My heart is leaning forward, toward him and whatever attraction exists between us, even though my head keeps trying to pull me back.

If I open up to him, will I be like the bicycles, defying the laws of gravity?

In my mind, their tiny wheels balance, their spokes glimmering with hope. I tuck the image away as a small reminder that sometimes, no matter how small the chance, sometimes things do work out.

Twenty

CHLOE

“Relax, Chloe.” Anita finishes my two plaits and pats me on the shoulders. “You’re going to be fine.”

I assess myself in Charlotte’s full-length mirror and tug on the hem of my costume. “This is way shorter than I remember it being.”

Charlotte steps out of her walk-in closet, decked out in her glittery golden leotard. “That’s because you lent it to me last year for that festival you missed for some ridiculous reason.”

“It was a legit reason, actually. I had soccer. You shortened it?”

“You’re taller than I am. And it cut me weird. I didn’t think you’d want to wear it again.” She shrugs. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. Your legs look a mile long.”

I frown at my reflection. The dress hits me mid-thigh. I never wear anything this short. Even my soccer shorts nearly graze my knees. “I wish you would have told me. I could have picked a different costume. Like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

She flashes a saucy smile. “What fun would that have been?” Charlotte nudges me with her hip and takes her place in front of the mirror. She dips a wand into a bottle of liquid liner and draws winged tips at the corners of her eyes. “Own it. You’ve got a hot athlete vying for your attention.”

“Not the point of tonight, even if it were true.”

Anita tugs on the red cowboy boots and tucks her skinny jeans into them. “Well, at least flirt with him. You two definitely get an A-plus in banter.”

“Hey, what are you so worried about?” Charlotte turns her attention to me.

I don’t want to admit what’s really got me rattled. But these are my best friends, so of course, I cave. “You think Graham will be there?”

Anita’s fists clench. “If he says anything to you, I will render his masculine anatomy inoperable.”

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to get back together with him?” Charlotte asks.

“No, no. Nothing like that.” I’ve already told them about Graham showing up at the car wash and Rhoads’s house, of all places. They think he’s shady. I think we just live in a small town.

“Ohhhhh,” Anita says. “I understand.”

“You do?” I say. “Then please, explain it to me so I can comprehend my own romantic life.”

“It makes sense. You’re worried Rhoads will get the wrong idea if Graham is around, that he’ll think you and Graham are reconnecting, and he’s lost his chance.”

Huh. “Well, I wasn’t worried about that before. But now I am. Maybe.” I shake my head. What am I even saying? “No, never mind. That doesn’t matter. Because Rhoads is who he is, a charming flirt. And I’m, well, me. Graham doesn’t change any of that.”

“You know,” Charlotte says, swiping gloss onto her lips. “I actually haven’t seen Rhoads flirt with anyone else since you two started hanging out—I mean, training together.”

Instinct wants me to rebuttal, but now that I think about it, I haven’t either. Hmm.

“If everything we’ve said doesn’t matter, why do you care if Graham’s at the party?” Anita asks.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird seeing him again, I guess.” I’m not even at Dionne’s yet, and I’m already exhausted.

Charlotte turns around. “Just chill out, okay. Have fun. Be your lovely, charming self and everything will work out. Stop worrying so much.”

“Easy for you to say.” I slip my feet into the ruby slippers, glad I’d ignored Charlotte’s advice and opted for flats instead of heels. This night is going to be tough enough. I don’t need to make things more difficult on myself.