Page 25 of High Hopes

Birdie

seriously, though. the prof tore into one of my pieces. said it felt “contrived”

I sit up, frowning at the screen. I know how much effort Birdie puts into her work. Contrived? No fucking way.

Liam

contrived, my ass. what a pretentious dipshit

Chase comes out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, and shoots me a knowing look. “You texting your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say automatically, though my mind lingers on the word a little longer than it should.

He smirks. “Not yet, huh?”

I ignore him, my focus back on my phone.

Birdie

you’re just saying that because you’re biased

Liam

or maybe I just know talent when I see it

I can almost hear her laughing through the screen, and something warm settles in my chest. It’s weird how easy it is with her, how much I look forward to these conversations. Small talk isn’t my thing. Yet, I find myself wanting to keep going with her, like the conversation could stretch on forever and I wouldn’t mind.

Birdie

what about you? how was the game?

Liam

stellar. I was bored

Birdie

lol if not even winning a game can keep your interest, we need to find you a new sport. ever considered bog snorkeling

I’m about to reply when Chase chucks a sock at my head.

“Hey, we’ve got fifteen minutes,” he says. “You better get moving.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I shove the sock off my bed, still glued to my phone.

Liam

no, but I know I’d be excellent at it. I have to go out for our team dinner now. talk later

Birdie

have fun xo

Chase leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking. “You coming or what?”

I glance at my phone, the screen still glowing with Birdie’s last text, and for a second, the pull to stay in and keep talking to her is overwhelming. But I shove the thought—and my phone—into my pocket, forcing a nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Dinner’s loud, as usual. The team’s riding high on the win. We’re all squeezed into this dimly lit, family-style Italian place near the hotel. Plates of pasta and pizza litter the table, and the noise level’s almost unbearable—laughing, shouting, forks clattering, the whole deal.

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