Page 29 of Gap Control

"I'm showing off my natural charm."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

I pushed further down toward the foot of the bed. "It's PR. Strategic visibility. Controlled narrative momentum."

She narrowed her eyes. "I bet you took him to dinner."

"It was lunch."

"You wore your decent jacket."

"The hoodies need laundering."

"You shared fries."

I didn't respond.

Her voice softened. "You like him."

"I barely know him."

"You mentioned him to me on the first day of the season."

"Teammates watch each other."

"But you only called out one."

I let that sit.

She sighed. "Listen. You don't have to label it. Or tell the internet. Still, maybe you should tell yourself."

I exhaled slowly. "I don't know how to do this."

"Then don't do all of it at once. I suggest you keep showing up, for a start."

We were both quiet for a second. I heard her kitchen clock ticking behind her.

"You looked happy in the photo."

I blushed slightly. "Yeah, I think I was."

Another pause.

Then, from the other bed: "Tell your sister to stop analyzing your love life while I'm trying to sleep."

I jumped out from under the bedspread. "Mercier! I thought you were unconscious!"

"One of your fries touched my sandwich in a dream. It woke me up."

Peggy snorted.

I ended the call with a quiet goodbye, dropped the phone on the nightstand, and stared at the ceiling.

The bed was too soft. The pillow smelled like hotel laundry detergent and not much else.

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a while, I let myself think about the rest of the day without immediately panicking.

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