Page 93 of The Home Grown
“Is everything okay?” I ask, watching Ellie fixate on her glass.
“Yeah, of course.” She pulls her eyes away from her drink and offers me a smile. But I’m not convinced. It lacks the warmth and brightness it typically holds, like she’s forcing it.
“Okay—I don’t believe you.”
She fiddles with a lock of hair. “Have you won this sort of thing before?”
“Well, yeah but?—”
“See, I feel like I should have known,” she says, pulling at her lip with her teeth.
I study her for a moment, trying to work out how I can lighten the tension of the situation.
“Well, I mean, if you were as obsessed with me as you claim to be, then…” I grin, trying to catch her eye, but she’s making it difficult. Like she’s feeling off. “Kitch, come on … talk to me.”
“I guess I’m just … I don’t know. Never mind,” she forces the smile again, though harder this time, and I think I’ve worked it out. She’s disappointed. Or at least, I guess she is, though I can’t be sure why.
Maybe it’s because she feels like this is the sort of stuff she should know? Or perhaps it’s because this highlights how muchwe don’t know about each other? I mean, there’s so much about her I don’t know either.
I sit on the observation for a moment longer, watching her sip her drink and fixate on the beer mat it rests on, now damp with condensation. Then it occurs to me: I should ask her to come to my game. I mean … we’ve moved forward tonight, right? The kiss … fuck me, the kiss that’s lingering on my lips in a way I never expected. And the declaration to Coach Sinclair … I should ask her, shouldn’t I?
I swallow down the anxiety of being rejected, then I brace myself, taking a sip of my drink, revelling in the coolness to calm my nerves.
“I, uh … don’t suppose you’d want to come and watch the game tomorrow, would you?” I ask.
She looks up, locking eyes with me as I wait. Hopeful.
“Tomorrow?” she says.
“Well, yeah. Tomorrow evening.”
“I—” She traces a droplet of condensation down the side of her glass. “I—I don’t know anything about hockey.”
“So? It’s literally just five skaters—three forwards, two defence—and a goalie. All fighting over a rubber disc. I mean, there’s more to it than that, from my perspective … it’s not about the puck so much but more of the other players… or D. It’s a game of trust and strategy and—” I tail off, realising I’m on transmit before clearing my throat. “I’ll get you a ticket next to Kelly. She can give you some guidance. Though she knows too much, if you ask me. And it’s even fucking worse now she’s seeing Johnny—our captain. The two of them together are like—” Ellie’s gaze drops to the table again and panic hits me.
This is too much. I’ve bombarded her with information, and now I’ve asked too much of her. And why, oh why, did I suggest she sit with my sister? That’ll open the door up to a load of questions and … I panic, almost stumbling over my words as I try to backtrack.
“I mean, you don’t have to sit by Kel,” I say. “I can get you another seat somewhere else, or you could just come another time. It’s not a big deal.”
“Where is it?” she says. “Home?”
I nod. “Yeah, since we were the highest seeds.”
“I see.” She’s quiet for a moment and I’m trying my hardest to think of something else to say, but she looks up again, her big brown eyes melting into mine. “I can see if I can, I mean?—”
Oh, shit. She’s hesitating. She doesn’t want to come.
“Honestly, don’t worry. It’s fine. I get it. You’ve got clients and then there’s travel…” I force a smile, trying to act indifferent.
“I would really like to see you play, Mike,” she says, stretching out a hand to rest on my own. “Can I let you know tomorrow? I’ll see what I can figure out.” She pulls out her phone and starts flicking through the screens. “I’ve got some afternoon appointments, that’s all. Maybe Kathryn can cover them for me.”
My heart, already thumping loudly, picks up speed as I nod. “Sure.”
Chapter Nineteen
ELLIE
I knewthis morning was suspiciously perfect. That’s what they say, right? If something’s too good to be true, then it probably is.
