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“Hey, girls,” Dex said. He raised a hand and impressively, they quieted right down. “Warm up is two laps and I’ll bring out the cones to do drills. On three, say, polar bears. One, two, three–”
“POLAR BEARS!” the girls shouted in unison, then poured onto the ice and began their laps, clearly not wanting to let Dex down.
He turned back to me.
“Am I the only one who doesn’t know who you are?” I asked, seeing adults in the stands aiming their cell phones our way, taking photos of Dex, of course, because they definitely weren’t taking any of me.
He took my chin and lifted it with his fingers so I had to meet his gaze. I felt like an idiot for being so clueless. “Sugar, I think you’re the only one who really knows who I am.”
With that, he grabbed a helmet and mini-cones that were stacked on the half wall and stepped onto the rink. He skated off in an effortless way that showed he was almost more comfortable on the ice than off.
Flustered and confused, I watched him drop cones onto the ice in two long lines before I spun around and looked for Aspen in the stands. She waved and I saw that Bridget was beside her. Good. I didn’t have to wait to yell at my sister.
I climbed up the bleachers to join them. I flopped down onto the cold metal as the clack of skates and sticks on the ice rang through the lofty arena. It was chilly in here, twenty or more degrees colder than outside. Dex was doing the second lap with the girls but going backwards. Show off.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Bridget, keeping my eyes on Dex.
“Dex talked to Mav earlier and told him about coaching. I thought I would come and watch because Mav’s doing CEO stuff. And before you ask, the contractors are busy at the house and have my number. And Mav’s.”
She thought of everything and shut down every option of more questions. Except one.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Dex played hockey. How could you?” I asked even when I could tear my eyes away from the man in question.
“You didn’t know?” she asked, leaning around Aspen to stare at me, wide eyed. She pushed her glasses up.
“Everyone knows Dex James,” Aspen added, making me feel even more of an idiot.
“Well, I don’t. I don’t follow hockey.”
Or any sports.
“He’s been in People’s sexiest men list three years in a row! Sport Illustrated. ESPN. I mean, how could you not?” Bridget asked.
“Did you seriously know before you met Mav?” I asked her. “You know as much about sports as me.”
She looked away, guiltily.
“Well, I did,” Aspen said.
Dex pointed to the girls and they formed two lines, then he demonstrated what he wanted them to do, borrowing a stick that looked much too small for him. He moved with such precision through the drill he made it look easy. If I got out there, I’d look like Bambi on ice.
“I don’t follow hockey. I don’t read People or Sports Illustrated, okay? But he’s been around almost as long as Mav and there’s been ample time to spill. Why do you keep the important things from me?”
Bridget winced, then took a deep breath and stood. “Aspen, trade spots.”
They did a little shuffle and swapped seats so Bridget was right next to me. Her dark hair was back in the usual ponytail and she had on jeans and a hoodie.
“You’re still mad about MIT.” She didn’t make it a question, but fact. She only told me last week that she hadn’t dropped out but had actually been expelled from the university for plagiarism, when in fact her professor had seduced her to steal her notes and rough draft and used them to publish a paper as his own. For six months I thought she just gave up, which was how she explained her return.
That had me making assumptions of her. Wrong ones. Just like Dex and not giving me the full picture. I made bad assumptions with him, too.
“I’m mad that no one thinks to share things with me.”
Bridget cocked her head and gave me a smile that screamed pity. A pity smile.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about MIT,” she admitted. “I am. But this was a problem I brought on myself.”
“Men are assholes. You didn’t have to do it alone.”
