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Thomas snorts. “Right. It’s all good. I’ve got some fun plans for the rest of senior year.” He grins at me. “I’ll probably see you out.”
I grin back. “Yeah, you probably will.”
“See you, man.”
“See you.”
Clayton leaves. I take a piss, wash my hands, and am drying them when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I toss the paper towel in the trash and pull it out.
It’s my dad.
I suck in a deep breath, then answer. “Dad.”
“Aidan.” He sounds so surprised, I almost smile.
Obviously, he’s become as accustomed to leaving annoyed messages as I’ve become to receiving them.
“Did you get the plane ticket?”
NoHow’s hockey?NoHow was your winter break?No asking about my friends or any part of my life.
“Yeah,” I lie.
I mean, I probably did get it. I just haven’t checked my email lately, but admitting so will give my dad one more thing to complain about.
“Good.”
I take a deep breath, staring at the puddle of water on the counter. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s doing well. Excited about the wedding.”
Yeah, I bet she is.
“School going well?”
“Yep,” I lie again.
“I’m getting pulled into a meeting,” he tells me.
Bullshit. It’s dead silent in the background.
“You called me, Dad.”
A beat of silence. “I’ll see you soon, son.”
He hangs up first.
I scoff and stuff my phone back in my pocket.
“I can’t wait to watch you play on Saturday,” Mariah gushes.
“Thanks,” I reply.
There’s a flash of confusion on Mariah’s face before her expression reverts to sultry.
Usually I’d at least tack on agorgeous. More likely I’d tell her to make a sign for me, or say that I can’t wait to celebrate with her after we win.
But I do none of that.
