Page 58 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

“I took a friend home from the party. And then some of us played pickup at the park.” I open the fridge and pull out my favorite blue sports drink, uncapping it and guzzling half in one go.

“Friend, huh?” Danielle gives me the look, full of skepticism and teenage attitude. “I’m pretty certain that Rhoads is in love with her,” my sister says to my mom.

I roll my eyes. “One, I’m not in love with her.” I tug on her ponytail gently. “And two, even if I were, it’s none of your business.” I steal a bite of her toast with blackberry jam just to be annoying.

“Is it my business?” Mom asks, laughing at me as she hands me a plate piled high with hash browns, over-medium eggs, and bacon.

The sight and smell of it make me think of Chloe again. Breakfast will always make me think of her from now on, which, depending on how things go with us, could either be amazing or simply tragic. It would be a travesty to never eat bacon and hash browns again.

“You not hungry?” Mom asks, and I realize I’ve been frowning at my plate.

“I’m starving.” I take the plate from her and start shoveling food in my mouth, so I don’t say something to incriminate myself.

I’m not in love with Chloe. That’s ridiculous.

“So this friend.” Mom sips her coffee while eyeing me over the rim of her mug. “Same one who came to study the other day?”

I swallow hard and cough to dislodge the bacon that caught in my throat. “You weren’t even here.” I give Danielle a pointed look.

She shrugs. “I told her you had a girl over. I didn’t realize it was a secret. Why are you scowling?” Mischief lights her toffee-colored eyes. “Unless it was supposed to be a secret…for…reasons. Like you’re in loooove with her.”

I chomp off half a piece of bacon and glare at my sister because she’s annoying but also correct. About Chloe not being a secret. Not the other part.

Of course.

“We worked on soccer skills and studied economics. It was hardly worth your notice.”

Danielle finishes her toast and smirks. “Sure. Just like it was hardly worth your notice when her ex-boyfriend delivered my pizza.”

“Okay, that’s enough, Dani,” Mom says. “I think it’s great that you’re spending time with other friends. Jenson will be home soon, I’m sure, but it’s nice for you to hang out with someone who can keep up with you at the moment. And if that person happens to be a smart, pretty girl who also makes you laugh, so be it.”

Stunning, not just pretty. Competitive, witty, challenging. My mom’s description doesn’t even begin to cover Chloe Baker.

Instead of saying this out loud and continuing the torturous conversation, I nod and guzzle the rest of my blue drink. “Speaking of Jenson, I’ve got to go finish my gift for him, so I’m going to be in the workshop for a while this morning.”

I leave my mom and sister to do whatever it is they’re doing today, and head to my second sanctuary, the workshop in the yard. I can’t believe Chloe and I were in here together only last night.

Showing her this part of myself had been so difficult, but I’m glad I did it. I think it brought us closer together. Again, my mind goes to the missed kiss, but I shake it away.

I sit at the worktable and try not to think about Chloe. Instead, I focus on the new snow globe I’m making for my best friend.

It feels a little silly given that he’s stuck in the hospital. A small gift like this isn’t going to miraculously make his bones mend and his internal organs stabilize, but having something to focus on keeps me from breaking down.

And he liked the Lego one I brought him before.

My mind wanders to the vacation Jenson, and I took with our families last summer. We went to Jenson’s family’s lake house and spent a week grilling out and water skiing and tubing from the back of his dad’s speedboat. We both felt so free on the water, and I smile at the memory of Jenson doing back flips off the side of the boat and splashing his younger brothers and Danielle. That’s the Jenson I remember, and the one I want him to remember, too.

I glue the sand to the bottom of the globe base. Then, I put the miniature boat and wakeboard figures inside the glass bulb, fill it with water colored light blue with food dye, and plop in some small stones. Once the base is secured, I place it in the holder so it can dry fully.

I watch the materials float and flounder in the water. It’s crazy how quickly things can go from perfect to broken.

I check the clock and realize it’s been two hours already. I need a snack.

On my way out, I bump into the corner of the worktable, which shimmies the shelf behind it. One of the globes I recently finished falls from its perch.

I reach out to catch it, but I’m not a goalie. My hand-eye coordination and reflexes are too slow. It lands on the table with a thunk. Luckily, it doesn’t shatter, but there is a small fissure in the globe’s glass. Just a thin line, like the first crack in ice.

Not disastrous now, but only time will tell.