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“Yeah, it was a good game. I didn’t know your son also plays hockey,” Dad says with a big smile. “You should have called once you decided to move.”

“They sure did. This will be a good season for them, I can feel it,” the other guy agrees. “It all happened so fast with transfer and everything. We barely settled down.”

“Once you are fully settled, you have to call me. We can do dinner sometimes.” He turns around when he hears me approach. “There he is, MVP of the game.” Dad claps me on the back. “That was one good game, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Just then, I notice Jeanette, Brook, and Amelia also standing there. “I’m missing something?” My smile is light, but I’m sure Dad can see the confusion on my face.

“Ohh, yes. This is Samuel Sanders,” Dad introduces us, and we shake hands. “He’s Jeanette’s and Max’s dad. We went to med school together.”

I can’t believe it. What are the odds? The only guy that I can’t stand to be in the same room with, the guy that wanted my spot on the team and that’s messing around with the girl I want, is the son of Dad’s old friend. I want to groan out loud, but I suppress the urge.

At that moment Sanders decides to show up.

He greets his Dad and then goes straight for his sister lifting her in the air and making her squeal.

“Nice game. Now put me down, you dumbhead!”

The sound is so girly and carefree that I have to look twice to confirm if this really is his sister, but he lets her down almost as quickly as he picked her up and does the same with Amelia.

My fists clench at my side, and I grit my teeth. All I want to do is go over there and take his hands off of her, no matter how much force I have to put in. The more, the better.

Dad coughs softly in his hand, drawing my attention. He’s giving me a curious look, but I glare at him, ignoring whatever he wants to tell me.

“Don’t even try!” Brook warns him, pointing her tiny finger at Sanders. His grin is big as he takes one step towards her, but she glares at him and starts walking backwards. “I’ll see you in the car, Lia.”

Then she turns around and almost runs away. Sanders stands there, looking after her and shaking his head like he can’t believe she’s being so silly to run from him.

“So guys,” Dad looks between all of us, “any plans for tonight to go and celebrate your win?”

“Don’t we always, Mr. Sanders?” Andrew puts his hand around my shoulder. “Pizza at Charlie’s, and then there is a party later at my place.” He looks around, pointing a finger at everybody. “I expect you all to come. Even you, Dotty.”

“Andrew,” I say in a low voice. My hand goes around his shoulders, squeezing him in warning.

“We’ll be there,” Sanders agrees.

“Brook and I will skip.”

“What? Why?” I turn to look at Amelia. I was hoping for her to go and make it interesting, but now I have no desire to go at all.

“Brook barely agreed to come to the game.” She sighs. “And I promised her we’ll have a girls night afterward. So we are going back to my place to watch a movie of her choice.”

“Such a party pooper.” Andrew shakes his head. I don’t know when was the last weekend he didn’t have a party at his house. The whole concept of staying home and doing nothing on the weekend is as foreign to him as French. “I’ll see the rest of you later,” he walks away, waving over his shoulder at us.

“I have to go too.” Amelia nervously looks back at her junk of a car. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” Her dark brown eyes meet mine, and I see color wash over her cheeks. “That was a good game.” She looks me straight in the eyes. This is only for me, her eyes say as much. Not Sanders. Not Andrew. Hell, not even all of us. But me.

“Thanks.” I wink at her. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I watch her go to her car. She gets in and starts it. I see her and Brook talk about something before she gets out of her parking space and drives away.

Not long after, we all say our goodbyes. Dad and Mr. Sanders agree to stay in touch and have dinner soon, and I really hope he doesn’t expect us kids to be there too; that would be way too awkward.

Amelia

“Not you again,” I hear Brook grumble from the hallway. Groaning, I let my head fall and hit the counter. Popcorn pops in the microwave, and the smell of butter fills the room.

Again?

What the hell is wrong with these people? I feel like I’m living dejavú, like I’m in a vortex and one day is put on repeat, happening over and over and over again. There is no running away from it. There is no escape. You can only live it over and over until you figure out what you did wrong to deserve this kind of thing happening to you.

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