Page 92 of Practice Makes Perfect
“And apparently he’s a ‘unicorn,’” I make air quotes with my fingers, “because he’s hot, funny, smart, and actually nice to women he sleeps with.”
Lea’s lips twitch. “This is… news to you?”
“No,” I admit, pushing off from the wall and heading for the exit. “But hearing them talk about him like that made me feel… weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Weird like I wanted to trip them as they walked past,” I mutter, avoiding her eyes. “Or maybe accidentally spill something on their perfect hair.”
Lea’s eyebrows shoot so high they nearly disappear into her hairline. “Em Dubois, are you jealous?”
“No!” I protest, then immediately cave under her knowing look. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Lea says, linking her arm through mine as we head toward the exit. “But it is interesting.”
I say nothing as we step out into the cool night air, a welcome relief after the stuffy arena hallway. I take in a deep breath of fresh air, glad Lea snapped me out of my brain’s swan dive into the abyss of uncertainty, but not really wanting to hear her dissect my contradictions right now.
“So,” Lea says as soon as we’re away from the throng of fans outside the arena. “You were jealous of random girls discussing Linc’s bedroom skills.”
I groan. “Can we just pretend I never said that?”
“Absolutely not,” Lea says cheerfully. “This is the most entertaining thing that’s happened to me all day.”
“What about watching your brother captain a championship-level hockey team to victory?”
“Eh.” She waves her free hand dismissively. “I’ve seen Mike play hockey since we were kids, and he’s on the bench, not the ice. But I’veneverseen you get jealous over a guy before. This isunprecedented territory, and after my emotional turmoil last semester, it feels like you’re owed some counselling.”
I pull my jacket tighter around me as a gust of wind cuts through the quad. “I think I’m falling for him, Lea.”
The words hang in the air between us, more real now that I’ve said them aloud. Lea doesn’t respond immediately, and I glance over to find her nodding slowly, a small smile playing at her lips. It’s like she’s been waiting for me to say those words.
“Well,” she says finally. “I can’t say I’m shocked.”
“You’re not?”
“Em, you wore his jersey to a game. That’s basically a marriage proposal.”
“The jersey was your idea!” I protest.
“And you couldn’t wait to put it on,” she counters.
I can’t argue with that. I’d practically snatched the jersey from her hands, and the weight of it on my shoulders had felt oddly significant, like I was wrapping myself in a piece of him.
“Besides,” Lea continues, “the way you look at him… it’s not exactly subtle.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Only to someone who knows you as well as I do.” She pauses at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. “So what are you going to do?”
I stare at the blinking pedestrian signal. “I have no idea.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, so as we cross the street, I sigh and fill her in on what happened the other night—how Linc showed up at our door unannounced, looking stressed and vulnerable. How we watched a movie together, and then one thing led to another…
“Wait,” Lea interrupts, her eyes wide. “He came to our place? Just because?”
“He said things were tense with Mike.”
“That doesn’t explain why he came to you specifically.” She gives me a look. “He could have gone to Dec’s or Maine’s or literally anywhere else.”
