Page 40 of The Breakaway

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The spa smelled like flowers and teenage sleepovers, that mix of nail polish and hair products. This was a school, so there weren’t cushy arm chairs and fluffy towels, but we didn’t care in the least. Factory line facials? As Maddie said, yes, please.

Crystal found Jenna, and they ushered us in. We settled onto massage tables next to each other and were treated to steaming towels around our necks as slow Zen chords played from the speakers. The aesthetician cleansed my face with a solution on a cotton pad, then slathered a cool mask over my face, tingly and soothing all at once.

The calm seeped down to my bones, languid and soft as honey. If only I could bottle this feeling and carry it with me. But for now, I let myself drift. Let the eucalyptus-scented steam blur the edges of my worries until they floated up and away.

The mask hardened, making me feel like my skin was going to crack, and as the aesthetician wiped it away, I felt shiny and new. She prompted me to sit, and I turned to find that Crystal and Maddie looked dewy and content.

“I’m the best, right?” Crystal held out her hands, and Maddie and I nodded our approval.

We floated out of the spa on a cloud of bliss and walked back to the north side of campus. After thanking Crystal profusely, I detoured to the cafeteria, snagging a slightly wilted salad that had seen better days and an iced tea. I ate quickly, then headed across the square. The library beckoned. I needed to study past quizzes before my music harmony free write.

But first, email. The computers glowed in invitation, and I plopped down at a free one, the plasticky seat squealing in protest. I jabbed at the power button, drumming my fingers as the screen flickered to life, and I signed in with my student ID.

I blinked at Logan’s name at the top of my inbox, the subject line screaming, "YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS!"

I clicked.

Sharla holy shit you'll never guess who I just met at training camp only JARED HALL can you believe? He's like a literal legend scouts are basically drooling over him says he mightput in a good word for me with some of his NHL buddies if I keep killing it out here not to brag but coach says I'm 'really impressing' him with my work ethic and natural talent so ya know not to big of a deal or anything

I pieced together the sentences despite his lack of punctuation and grinned from ear to ear. That was amazing news, and I was so proud of him. He'd worked his ass off to get here, and if anyone deserved a shot at the big leagues, it was him.

That’s incredible! SO happy for you, babe!

My fingers hovered over the keys. What next? More gushing? That was what he would want, undoubtedly. And what else could I say, really?

Over here things are pretty same old same old. I’m still hunting down first chair in the orchestra, ooh! And I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown. I almost got assaulted in the square and Rob came to my rescue. Also, funny story, I thought you were washing my water bottle for me these past months but it was actually him. For no reason. He held me one night when I was having a panic attack, and now I can’t stop thinking about that either, especially since I haven’t ever let you do something like that. I spent the weekend with my friend so I didn’t have to look him in the eyes. Phew! Looks like we’re both having a great week!

I stared at the screen, hypnotized by my blinking cursor. My fingers started typing.

I knew you’d take the hockey world by storm! I’ll be cheering you on from home! Keep sending me updates!

So. Many. Exclamation points.

I hit send, hoping the swooping in my stomach was because of the questionable salad.

An hour later, I emerged from the library in a daze, chords and intervals swirling in my head. I attended my class, finished my free write early, and made my way back to the townhouse on autopilot, ready to collapse into bed and not think for the next twelve hours.

But when I swung the door open, I froze. There was Rob, lounging on the couch like some kind of off-duty model, his hair all artfully tousled.

Right. Exactly what I’d been actively avoiding.

He glanced up as I walked in, lips twitching. "You’re not dead."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the traitorous flutter in my stomach. "Disappointed?”

Rob didn’t move, just watched me as I took off my shoes and hung my coat. “You stayed with Maddie all weekend?”

I pretended to fix something on my bag. “Yeah. Did you guys have a game?” I knew they didn’t, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and it felt important to make him think I wasn’t thinking about him or his team all weekend. Since the opposite was most definitely true.

I glanced up as I passed through the kitchen and living area. How, in one split second, did my brain register the way his t-shirt clung to his shoulders and the sinewy muscles of his forearms as he gripped the TV remote?

I nodded once and escaped to my room before I could do something idiotic like run my fingers through that perfect messof hair or trace the angle of his jawline with my tongue. I wouldn’t do it. But the fact that it crossed my mind sent my heart into palpitations.

Violin. That's what I needed. It was only seven, so the neighbors wouldn’t get pissy if I played. I reached for my case and?—

Wait. Where was my case? I always left it tucked into the corner, but now there was only empty space staring back at me.

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