Page 34 of On His Team

“You are.”

“Okay.”

I pick up my skate. “See you.”

“Wait.”

I stop.

Her entire expression changes. “Party at Hawthorne?”

“No.”

She closes her eyes like I’ve personally disappointed her. “Unbelievable.”

I laugh and head back to the room.

Saturday is tighter and uglier, because Penn State has already seen everything we did to them the night before. We win three-one. Benson scores twice, Percy stops thirty-one, and I spend most of the night finding out that seeing the second option doesn’t automatically mean choosing the right one. I’m tired of talking about retrievals.

Hawthorne is full when we get back.

Still not a party.

That distinction seems to matter mainly to Gianna and Mara.

Stanley has music going, pizza boxes have taken over the coffee table, and every seat in the living room is occupied by somebody I know. Nobody random has walked through the front door all night.

A year ago, that would have been weird. Now it just feels like Saturday.

I take the couch and stretch my legs out. Two games in two nights leaves everything about half a second behind where I want it. My quad is tight, there’s a bruise on my hip, and my right shoulder hurts enough that I’m going to regret sleeping on it.

I get through two slices of pizza before Gianna appears beside me. She sits on the arm of the chair next to the couch and looks down at me.

“Rowan.”

I glance up. “What’s up, G?”

“Do you still have your SPM 240 stuff?”

I think about it. “Probably.”

Her eyes narrow. “Probably yes or probably no?”

“Probably yes.”

“You hesitated.”

I grin, looking up again. “Because it’s been two years.”

“So go look.”

I laugh. “You’re making me search for it right now?”

She takes the pizza box off my lap and steals a slice. “Yes.”

“Bossy.”

“I need the forms.”