Page 133 of Practice Makes Perfect
She sighs dramatically, setting the book down. “Fine. But I’m setting a timer for ten minutes.” She turns her laser focus on Linc. “And if I come back out here and find her crying, I swear to god I will make you regret being born with functioning limbs.”
Lea backs toward her bedroom before disappearing inside with a final threatening glare. And, once she’s gone, I push myself up from the floor, acutely aware of how I must look—unwashed hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday, eyes puffy from unshed tears.
But I refuse to hide from how much his rejection has hurt me.
I cross the room and stand directly in front of him, arms crossed tightly over my chest. It’s partly a defensive posture, but mostly it’s to keep my hands from trembling. I’m not sure what comes next, but we’ll find out in the next quarter-hour.
“You have ten minutes,” I say, meeting his gaze directly. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I keep my expression neutral. “Make them count.”
thirty-three
LINC
I perchon the edge of Em’s couch, every muscle in my body coiled so tight I might snap. My leg bounces like I’ve mainlined espresso, and my palms are slick with sweat. The fact that the last time I sat here was one of the hottest hook-ups of my life isn’t helping my concentration.
Em stands across the room, arms locked across her chest like a shield. Her face is carefully blank, but I know her better than that now. The slight tightness around her eyes betrays her—she’s hurt, she’s angry, and she’s waiting for me to explain why I nuked everything good between us.
I can’t sit still. I spring up from the couch and pace the small living area, my shoes making soft thuds against the floor. My hair is already a disaster from game sweat and skate sweat, made worse by the twenty times I’ve run my hands through it tonight.
“You have nine minutes left,” Em says, her voice clipped. “Lea wasn’t kidding about the timer.”
That breaks through the fog in my brain. “Right. Okay.” I take a deep breath. “I fucked up, Em. Massively.”
Her eyebrow inches upward. The silence stretches between us like a rubber band pulled too tight. “That’s it?” she says, finally.
“I was already emotionally on tilt when I saw you at the game,” I blurt out, the words tumbling over each other. “Coach called me into his office right before second period, and I found out my mother—” I pause, the bitter taste of betrayal fresh again. “She emailed him. Behind my back. About making me co-captain.”
Em’s carefully constructed mask slips, confusion rippling across her features.
“My co-captaincy—the position I thought I’d earned—she engineered it. She suggested it to Coach because it would ‘look good to NHL scouts.’” I spit the words out, pacing faster now. “Like I was some product she was marketing, rather than someone who deserved to earn that sort of thing.”
“That’s why you left the game?” Em asks, her voice softening slightly.
“I told Coach to go fuck himself.” I shrug. “Then I walked out and saw you, and you were talking about meeting your family, and it was just—God, Em, it was like the final straw. Everything was caving in. My hockey career, things with my parents… everything just felt like a house of cards.”
I force myself to stop pacing, to really look at her. Her eyes are wide, absorbing my words.
“You could have said or done anything in that hallway, and I would’ve reacted like an asshole,” I continue. “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t even about meeting your family. It was me, completely falling apart under pressure, and not realizing that you were the life raft that could have helped to keep me afloat.”
“So your brilliant solution was to dump me in a hallway?” Her voice is quiet, but cuts like a blade.
“No, my solution was to run away from everything—which was the stupidest possible choice.” I take a step toward her, then hesitate. “Instead of talking to you, I took all my anger and confusion and dumped it on our relationship. And, worse, Idumped it on you, a person who had nothing to do with any of it.”
Her shoulders soften almost imperceptibly. “That was hours ago. Where have you been since then?”
“At some random community rink, skating circles until my legs gave out. Then my dad found me.”
Em nods, waiting for me to continue.
“I told him everything.” My voice cracks. “Including about you, Em, and how much I love you.”
Her expression softens slightly, but she doesn’t move.
“I love your quick wit, your determination, the way you light up when you dance,” I say. “I love that you gave me your trust even when it terrified you.”
She bites her lip, and I see the conflict in her eyes.
“I fucked up,” I continue. “But if you’ll let me, I want to make it right. And if this has caused too much damage, if you want to walk away, I understand. Well, not walk away, because it’s your dorm, and that would leave me here with Lea. And, well, she’s in a mood, but you get the point.”
