Page 54 of Snowballed

I take Zoe by the shoulders until she’s facing me. “Okay, it’s way too early in the morning for this conversation, but three things. One: I like to take things slow when it comes to relationships. Two: I am interested in someone. Three: it’s not Helen.”

Her smile is impish. “Who is it then?”

“Do we have to go through this?” I hate relationship talks.

Zoe crosses her arms. “Yes, we do. I’m sure I’m not the first one to tell you this, but you’re not the easiest person to read. I have no idea how you feel.”

“Really?” I point to the floor. “Because we kissed in this exact spot.”

Zoe’s cheek flame up. “And that kiss was amazing. But you didn’t follow up by asking me out or anything.”

“Why is it all on me?” I ask. “Besides, it’s hard enough trying to weave my way through all the Martins and Bobbies.”

“Oh please. If there’s anyone in this barn who has to fend off dates with a pitchfork, it is not me.” Zoe crosses her arms and waits.

“Okay. Zoe, would you like to go out sometime?” Then I shake my head. “This is dumb. What am I going to do? Knock on your bedroom door to pick you up?”

“It’s not dumb. I deserve to know when it’s a date or we’re just doing chores together.” She sounds a little pissed, so I don’t point out that milking goats takes two hands so that precludes anything intimate. Besides, doing anything together is fun.

“Okay, let’s do something when you get back from your road trip on Sunday,” I say.

Zoe beams. “Great, let’s—oh wait. We have to fulfil our auction dates first. Because we’re supposed to be single.”

“Who cares,” I say. “It’s not like we were ever going to get serious about someone just because he or she bid on us.”

She frowns. “It’s the fantasy you’re bidding on. The idea that romance might happen. Well, I’m going to get my date over with. I’ll see if he can go out on Sunday night.”

“Instead of our date? Isn’t that rushing things?” I ask.

“Well Mr. Turtle, you may like to take things slowly, but I’d really like to get this fake date over so we can go on to…” She hesitates and turns pink again. “Um, whatever it is we’re going on to.”

Ironically, for someone who plans a lot, I have not thought about what will happen between me and Zoe. I like hanging out with her, and I want to see what develops.

“Besides, with games every weekend, it’s not like we have a ton of free nights,” Zoe says.

“What are you talking about? We’re together almost every night,” I say.

“Yeah, but we’re not together-together,” Zoe says. Then she absentmindedly pokes one finger into the circle of her other hand in the signal for fucking.

I laugh, and when Zoe realizes what she’s doing, she turns red and rushes out of the barn. Zoe’s unexpectedness is what makes her so intriguing. I resolve to text Helen this afternoon, so Zoe and I can go on to… whatever.

The weekend goes by quickly. We play Maine and win both games. Our winning record is getting fans excited about the team, but it’s way too early for all that. It’s boring at the farm when Zoe is not there, so I spend more time on campus. I’m either at the library working or hanging out with the guys at the hockey house.

Finally Zoe returns from her road trip, and the house is alive again. She does a circuit of the farm, and I follow her.

“I know you’re checking up on me,” I say.

“I’m not. I just like seeing the farm after I’ve been away,” she says.

“Please. You were inspecting udders to make sure the goats were milked enough.”

“Okay. I have trouble delegating. But you’re doing a good job,” she concedes.

I have a secret weapon. I message Meysy if I’m having problems. I don’t ask Zoe because I don’t want her to worry.

“I found out how Helen won you,” she says.

“How?” I ask because she expects me to, not because I’m interested.

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