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Here?
I’ve found my people.
I have a job where I can bemeand not worry that someone’s going to tell me I’mnot grown up enoughbecause I love to laugh too loudly and I still squeal with excitement when I see squirrels doing crazy things in the yard and when I just stop and stare at the sunrise or the sunset because it takes my breath away.
If I could find amanwho loved that about me…well, my life would basically be the best life ever.
And I wouldn’t take it for granted.
“They gave me this funny card game calledExploding Kittenstoo,” I say. “Let me put the pasta on the tree, and then we can pour some whiskey shots and check that out. Unless you want to go to bed. I can totally explode kittens on my own. Wait. That sounded wrong. I wouldn’t do it for real.Ever. I love kittens. This is like, a satire game. At least, I think it is. Zeus doesn’t strike me as the kitten-hating type.”
Trevor stares at me, and I can’t even begin to guess what he’s thinking.
But he blinks once, turns, and disappears into the kitchen.
His bedroom’s off the kitchen.
I sigh.
He’s probably done with me and is heading to bed, and all of these little subliminal messages I’ve been reading into the past few weeks that say thathe likes meare nothing more than my fanciful imagination.
My mom says I’m a lot sometimes.
She also says I should never apologize for that, and that it’s a superpower, especially when it comes to relationships. She says it means when people stick with me, they areseriouslywith me, and I can count on them.
I’ve always thought that was a compliment, likeway to go, Meg! You have magic people-weeding skills, but really, it’s meant I’ve had times when I’ve been super lonely.
Like now.
When I wonder if my family is intentionally skipping Christmas so they don’t have to do it the Meg-magnified way.
Trevor strolls back into the living room with a bag of—oh my god.
“Is that Baby Ash pasta?” I squeal, and then I hear myself, and then I remember that he probably doesn’t want the reminder of the adorable new mascot of the team he just left behind.
But that pasta bag has the Copper Valley Fireballs mascots on it.
He nods. “It’s all the mascots pasta.”
I stifle another squeal of excitement, but I can’t make my mouth shut up. “Don’t tell Jude, but I wastotallycheering for you and the Fireballs the last two years. The way you guys turned the team around and went from the worst to the best? It’s like a fairy tale. I know it sucks that you can’t play anymore, butoh my god, Trevor, you’re alegend. You know that, right?”
His blue eyes waver as he studies me.
“I mean that in a good way,” I whisper. “Not in ayou’re doneway. There’s still so much you can do. I saw Cooper Rock onThe Late Showthe other night and he was talking about how you were always such a great leader on the team, and how much he hopes you come back and work for the team with player development.”
“Cooper never says a bad word about anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s wrong. If anything, it means he’sextraright, because he takes the time to pay attention toeveryone’ssuperpowers. Also, Jude says the same thing. That you’d be the best coach to ever—”
I cut myself off as he stares at me, his lids lowering, his mouth setting in a grim line. “I don’t want to coach, Meg. Stop trying to solve my problems.”
He shoves the mascot pasta at me, and this time, when he leaves the room, I get the feeling he’s not coming back.
And sure enough, there’s the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut.
Nice, Meg.
Also,he doesn’t like you.
