Page 214 of On His Team

Nothing is packed because graduation is still months away. There might be another year if grad school works out. I know all of that. Still. Tonight could be my last game in this building if I don’t get in.

My phone buzzes.

Gianna: Downstairs.

I look at it.

Me: Why?

Gianna: Because your girlfriend is downstairs.

Gianna: Come here.

I go, and she’s standing near the back door in jeans and a Camden sweatshirt when I walk into the kitchen.

The second she sees me, her face changes slightly. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You have the face,” she says. “The one where you’re thinking too much.”

I open the refrigerator.

She follows me. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“Good.”

“But you can.”

“I know.” I take out water.

Gianna leans back against the counter.

“You nervous?”

“A little.”

“For hockey?” she asks.

“No.”

She nods, and she doesn’t poke anymore. She reaches out and catches the bottom of my shirt between her fingers.

“Come here.”

I step closer. She wraps both arms around my waist and presses her face into my chest. I look down at the top of her head.

“You called me downstairs for a hug?” I ask.

“Basically.”

I put one arm around her, and Gianna squeezes me tighter like she has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“I’m proud of you,” she says.

“Game hasn’t started.”

“Not about tonight.”