Page 48 of The Overtime Persuasive

We keep walking, drifting farther into the residential blocks. The houses become a little wider, the gardens a little deeper. Fallen leaves gather along the curb, and somewhere nearby, a dog barks once before going quiet again.

Eva tucks her hands into her jacket pockets. “So.”

Nothing good has ever followed that one word.

“So,” I answer.

She keeps her eyes on the sidewalk in front of us. “How long have you and Tripp been doing that?”

I play dumb. “Doing what?”

She looks at me. “Whatever that was that happened when we were leaving dinner.”

“It’s not that we do ‘that,’” I say, giving the word that air quotes. “That is how we talk to each other.”

“Talk?” Eva snorts. “You were joking with him, and then you weren’t.”

My not-so-bright instinct so we can put this to bed would be to tell her she imagined it. Unfortunately, Eva owns a store, runs a business, and has spent years I don’t know, noticing things. More importantly, she doesn’t tend to let them go simply because someone tells her to. And she’ll be the first person to look me dead in the face and let me know I’m gaslighting her.

“We’ve always been competitive,” I say. “Now, we’ve found new things to compete over.”

“Like the run for the alternate captain position.”

I nod and Eva is quiet for a few steps. “So, the two of you aren’t really friends? You don’t like him.”

“No, that’s not it.” The answer comes easily. “That would probably make more sense, but no. I like Tripp.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“We’ve been pushing each other for so long, I don’t think either of us knows how to stop.”

“Only now he’s on your team and you both want the same thing.” There’s no judgment in her voice, and no accusation. Still, my shoulders tighten beneath my coat.

“I want it,” I say. “I want it so bad, Eva, I can literally taste it.”

She stops for a moment, making me pause my pace beside her. “I know.”

“No.” I look toward the houses ahead of us. “I want it more than I’ve said.”

Eva doesn’t respond, and I’m grateful for that. The words are easier to find without her watching me search for them.

“I grew up in a house full of guys who had letters on their jerseys,” I continue, walking the path again. “Dad was a captain, wore a C. My brother was an alternate for years, always had an A. My uncles…they had their own stories about being captains or being the person everyone looked to when things went sideways. I’ve been surrounded by this since I came home from the hospital.”

“Basically,” she concludes, “that letter has mattered to you since you were in the womb.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I chuckle. “Well, it matters to the Snyders, and that trait was definitely passed down to me.” I push my hands deeper into my pockets. “It wasn’t something anyone sat me down and explained. It was just understood. Being good got you on the ice, however, being trusted got you the letter. I want the coaches to see that I can do more than play my position and block shots. I want to help hold the room together. I can be the guy he sends over the boards when the game needs settling down, or the one the younger players come talk to when they’ve had a bad night.”

Saying all of this out loud for the first time feels strange, but it also feels good. Freeing. Like it needed to be said so I can finally stop worrying about it.

“I am ready to own this role, I want the responsibility,” I say. “And yeah, I want the letter to be on my jersey that says they believe in me too.”

“So, okay then…” Eva stays in pace beside me as we walk. “That’s why you paused.”

“That and—” I grunt. “Tripp can turn anything into a scoreboard.”

“Maybe.” She glances up at me. “But I don’t think he was trying to get under your skin this time. From what you’ve told me, I’d bet a hundred dollars he knows how badly you want it. The problem is, you, Mr. Snyder, do not like anyone knowing how much getting that A matters to you.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “Apparently, you’ve decided to make up for all the times you barely spoke to me by figuring me out in one night.”