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Judging by her passive tone, I don’t need to.
Back in our room, I kick off my shoes and unbutton my dress shirt. There’s a weight in the air that wasn’t in the car when we first got on the road, this weird edge I can’t describe. Nova unbuckles her heels and slides up on her bed with a yawn, crossing her ankles as she leans against the headboard.
I pass the foot of her bed. “If you give me a second to wash up, you can have the bathroom.”
She doesn’t respond, but I figure it’s a go.
When I leave the bathroom in athletic shorts and a tee, my dress clothes neatly folded in case I need them again in the next few days, Nova sets her cell phone on the nightstand between our queen beds.
“Hey, I posted a few pics from today. I hope that’s not an issue. You’ve never mentioned dating anyone seriously, but I can untag you if you want.” She kneels and rifles through her suitcase. “I don’t want to incur the wrath of Devin Hawthorne groupies.”
Oh, there are probably a few girls stalking her profile as we speak, but no one I owe an explanation to. On the other hand, Nova had a not-so-pleasant, public break-up with her boyfriend back at the end of April—somethingIlearned from stalking her.Not because she filled me in. I imagine her tagging me is payback to her ex, but I won’t call her out on using me.
“Tag me all you want. I’m a free agent.”
She continues digging through her clothes, and I turn my back, pretending to look out the window at the Chicago River when she fails to hide her smile. I’ve stared at her enough tonight, and those dimples, man. Those things may put me in an early grave.
As she swings the bathroom door shut, Nova stops. “Are you any good at baseball?”
I pause in the act of drawing the curtains closed. “I can hit a ball, but only ten percent of college players are drafted by the MLB, so I’m not holding my breath.”
“Do you love it?”
I look over my shoulder. “I’ve never deluded myself into thinking I’d play pro.”
Nova holds my stare. “But do you love it?”
Do I love it?I’ve played various team sports my entire life. In the beginning, I played because my Dad was cheering me on like many fathers do. Once he left, I kept playing because I thought if I were good enough, he’d come back. A child’s logic. When did the games become about me and not him? I can’t remember.
“You do.” The corner of her mouth tugs in a melancholy smile. “You love it. Your eyes light up when you’re thinking about it.”
Feeling exposed, I offer the same somber smile as she shuts the bathroom door.
Do I love it? More than I’ll admit, but my love’s tarnished with a shade of darkness. A son whose father left him. A mother too busy to be there. A secret, and a friend who no longer lives.
four | devin
I propmy forearms on the Audi’s canvas top. “Am I driving?”
Other than a muttered good morning, those are the first words I’ve spoken since Nova called me out last night about my love of the game. When the bathroom faucet turned on behind the closed door, I slipped into bed, pulled off my tee, and replied to Mom’s ten texts, while ignoring the others from various girls. Then I rolled over and faked sleep to keep Nova from talking. With the ice broken and a fresh night’s sleep, the climate between us has cooled. Things are less tense.
“Are you purposefully making puppy eyes at me?” The car doors unlock.
I shift from begging to smoldering, biting my lip for effect.
Nova takes one look and collapses into the driver’s seat with laughter. “Oh my gosh, you’re too much.”
Chuckling, I load her suitcase and my duffle into the back seat and slide in beside her. I hate that I love this car since I doubt I’ll ever afford one of my own, but the leather seats are like butter. So cliché, yet so true.
“One of these days, you’ll let me behind that wheel.”
“Keep dreaming, Hotshot.” She digs her phone from her purse.
“I knew you had a list. Hand it over.”
Tightening her jaw, she angles her phone from my view. “I told you I have aplan. You think the entire trip is in my head—”
“Ms. I-made-honor-roll-all-four-years-of-high-school, you’re damn straight I figured you had it in that big brain of yours.”
