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“Huh?”
“The name of the girl you’re so eager to skip this tutoring session and go see. Do I seriously need to remind you that hockey and graduating are on the line for you here?”
NowI’moffended. “There’s no girl. You don’t want to tutor me, and you just got a better offer. I can do the assignment and give it to you to grade again.”
“I haven’t even looked at the first one yet. Eighty-five was the deal.”
“I know what the deal was.”
Rylan huffs. “You might not take your responsibilities seriously, but I do. I said I would tutor you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
She’s infuriating. I was trying to benice, to let her focus on her own work and spend time around a guy she liked enough to give him her number. She’s acting like I accused her of slacking off.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to rein my temper in before responding. “If I didn’t take myresponsibilities seriously, I wouldn’t be here.”
The rest of our walk to the library is silent.
I’m irritated and she’s annoyed, and it bodes badly for the rest of tonight going well.
I’m already stressed about Thursday’s game, about keeping my grades up in the rest of my classes, and about going home soon. Having tonight start off so poorly isn’t helping with any of it. Neither is the fact my preferred form of stress relief hasn’t happened since last weekend because…I don’t really know. Some combination of failing a class and playoffs approaching and my family and how I keep comparing other girls to the one walking next to me.
A few people call out to me once we’re inside the library. Lots of mentions of Saturday’s game and eagerness about our next home one.
I nod or smile back but don’t stop to talk to anyone like I usually would.
I follow Rylan inside the elevator without questioning why we’re not working on the busy first floor, intent on getting through the next hour as painlessly as possible.
She seems to take anything I say the wrong way, so I might as well say nothing unless it’s related to Stats. At least she’ll have less to criticize there. I hope. I had Andy Pierce look over my assignment yesterday. He’s an Econ major and took a Stats class last semester. Guy jumped at the chance, probably worried I was holding a grudge about the bruise on my ribs that hasn’t fully faded yet. According to him, I did know what I was doing.
I’ll get through this tutoring session, then head home to tackle the rest of my homework. Hunter and Conor probably won’t be back until late. There was talk of going over to Sampson’s place after getting food at Gaffney’s. I could meet them over there, but I probably won’t.
Tomorrow will be busy; we have a dryland practice and a film session before Thursday’s away game. And I’m exhausted, the coffee I’m holding doing nothing to wake me up so far.
I take another sip and then exhale, resting my head against the wall of the elevator as I watch the numbers tick higher.
“You okay?”
Startled, I glance over at Rylan. I thought she’d be looking at her phone, not studying me with something that looks a little like concern.
“Yeah. I…yeah.” I rub a hand across my face. “I don’t know how Hart deals with it.”
“Deals with what?”
“The pressure. I hadonedecent game, and everyone’s expecting…” I sigh. “Whatever. Never mind.”
“It sounds liked you’re scared of the expectations.”
“I’m notscared. I just don’t like them.”
“Huh,” she says.
I resist the urge for one, two, three… “What?”
“I used to fake coming with my ex a lot.”
Unfortunately, she says that as I’m mid-sip. I cough threetimes to clear the coffee from my throat, and can hear the smile in Rylan’s voice as she continues talking.
“That night we hooked up, I didn’t fake it either time.”
