Page 23 of For the Win

“Oh, sometimes I miss home.”I pick up a piece of broccolini and make myself smile.“But I love it here.When I moved here, I decided to see if I could make a living teaching yoga.I’m not rich, but I’m doing okay.”

He nods.

“I went to college at UND in Grand Forks.A guy I went to school with plays in the NHL now—Grant Forrester.”

“Oh hey.He got drafted in the same year as me.How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Me too.”He shakes his head.“See?We’re just meant to be.”

I freeze.I stare at him, my stomach contracting so hard it hurts.For a moment I’m not seeing Harrison, I’m seeing someone else.Terror grips me, making my skin cold and my mouth dry.Time stretches out.I can’t breathe.

“I-I’m sorry.I have to go.”I push back my chair, grab my backpack, and bolt out of the restaurant.

7

HARRISON

I gape as Arya vanishes.For a moment I’m too stunned to do anything.Then I stand too, tossing my napkin down on my chair.I catch the server’s eye.“Be right back,” I mouth at her.She nods.

I hasten outside and catch up to Arya, who’s crouched down trying to unlock her bike with shaking hands.My gaze lands on the small tattoo on the back of her neck, a delicate black symbol of some kind.

“Hey.”I keep my tone soft and I don’t touch her, even though I want to.“Hold up, Arya.What’s wrong?”

“Don’t.Don’t talk to me.Just...just leave me alone.”

I frown, my stomach knotting with worry.How can I leave her alone like this?But I say, “Okay.I will.I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“I upset you.Or offended you.Would you at least tell me what it was?”

Crouched beside her bike, she closes her eyes.“We’re not ‘meant to be.’”

We sure as hell are.I’m convinced of it.“Okay.I’m sorry.I was joking.I didn’t know that would offend you.”

“I’m not offended.”She stands and pushes stray strands of hair off her face.Her hair is still in a ponytail from class, and she’s still wearing leggings and a tank top with a loose blue sweater wrapped and tied around her narrow waist.“I’m...”

I want to jump in but hold myself back to let her finish.

“I’m...triggered.”

Okay, there’s a word that gives me anxiety.This means something terrible happened to her and I just reminded her of it.The fucking last thing I want to do.But also...something terrible happened to her.

Or did it?I went out with a woman who used that word for everything.She was “triggered” when someone talked with food in their mouth.If I disagreed with her about something, she was “triggered.”When she didn’t like someone, she found them “triggering.”Once I asked her, “Found them triggering of what?”She didn’t know what to say.We didn’t go out together long.

“I’m sorry,” I say again.“I had no idea.”

She sighs.“Of course you didn’t.I’m sorry too.”

“Please come back in.”I like her a lot, and I was having fun getting to know her better, and I want her to be okay, and I know I shouldn’t push, but...

You don’t get what you wish for, you get what you work for.

I’m not giving up on her.

She hesitates, studying me.“All right.”She takes a deep breath and follows me back inside.“Hopefully they don’t think we dined and dashed.”

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