Page 85 of Hockey 101

I squeeze her tighter. She feels smaller than usual, diminished by everything that’s happened.

I continue, It kills me to hear you say that I deserve a better girlfriend. I’ve always thought you were way too good for me. You’re so smart, beautiful, and ambitious. You work so hard and get so much done. I’m just a hockey player, and when I graduate, I won’t even be that.

That’s crazy, you’re the perfect guy, Andy says flatly.

Neither one of us is perfect. But maybe we’re perfect for each other. For once, I’ve gotten the words right. Andy wavers—will she let go and trust me to catch her?

Instead, she gives the tiniest shake of her head, and my heart falls. We were so close.

I hold her out at arm’s length. Andy, you’re always telling me to stand up for myself. So, I will. You pour yourself into everything you do: writing, editing, advising residents, helping friends. But you hold back when it comes to us.

She looks up at me, seeing me fully. I go on. I’m right here, and I think you’re so close. Can you take that step and be all-in on us? Because while what we have now is amazing, it’s nothing compared to what we could be. I truly believe that.

I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Maybe that I’m nuts to be pushing her at her lowest point?

I lean in to kiss her on the forehead because I need to feel my lips against her skin once more. Just in case it’s our last time.

You don’t have to answer me right away. Take all the time you want. Or, if you decide you want to accept Bryce’s offer and be the sports editor instead, I’ll understand that too. I only want good things for you.

Then I walk out without looking back.

It’s agonizing to offer up the end of us so casually, but it’s exactly what Andy always encouraged me to do—ask for what I want. I want a trusting, loving relationship where I’m not always the one pushing for more. Andy has to want us too.

I want a future that doesn’t end when she graduates—no matter where she goes. And now, the power rests with her.

22

SUPPORT SYSTEMS

ANDY

AFTER DINNER, I start a new book but toss it aside after reading the first paragraph four times. I can’t even concentrate enough to read—so frustrating.

It’s been almost a week of self-inflicted misery. I was never going to break up with Jack to get my editor position back, but once Bryce’s deadline passed, I dithered. Since I’m usually decisive, this state of limbo has been agonizing. Jack is right—he deserves a girlfriend who can be completely committed to him. And my head tells me that I’m not ready to be that, no matter how much I miss him.

Yet, his absence is like a visceral void. I started out unhappy and it’s worse now—I hate myself for not even being able to make a decision.

There’s a sharp tap on my door. I groan and drag myself off the bed. I have zero energy, but an RA can’t play hermit. I swing open the door.

Emily and Dawn are standing there with loaded tote bags.

Hey. What are you doing here? I don’t remember any plans.

Girls’ night, says Emily at the same time as Dawn says, It’s a fucking intervention. They barge into the room.

Which is it? I can’t even muster the energy to be annoyed.

How about a girls’ intervention night? We’re worried about you, says Emily. She starts unpacking her bag. There are chips, cookies, Sour Patch Kids, and KitKats. This looks like Emily’s emergency stash of comfort food. Meanwhile, Dawn slides out a takeout pizza and a six-pack of canned vodka spritzes.

Oh, no. We’re not allowed to have alcohol in the dorms, I protest.

Dawn rolls her eyes. Please. It’s not like the RA is going to report you.

I frown. Yes, but I’m supposed to set the example.

This is your problem. You need to stop following all the rules, especially the stupid and arbitrary ones you create for yourself. Dawn’s scowl stops me from arguing further.

Fine…but you have to hide them if anyone comes by, I say weakly.

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