Page 62 of Chasing The Goal
“Feels like yesterday I wanted to throw those crackers at you.”
“Still kind of your love language, though.”
She laughed again, and something about the sound made my throat tighten.
“You nervous?” I asked, before I could stop myself.
She didn’t rush to answer. Just twisted her straw wrapper into a tight spiral.
“Some days,” she said. “Mostly I just... want to meet them. Know who they are. It’s hard doing all this without a face to imagine.”
“Still don’t know the sex?”
Sheshook her head. “Decided to wait. Figure I won’t get many real surprises in this life—might as well let this be one.”
“I like that,” I said. “Very you. A little chaotic, but kind of beautiful.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Chaotic?”
“You’re the only person I know who keeps granola bars in every coat pocket but never eats them.”
“Emergency prep is not chaos.”
“It is when all of them are expired.”
She shoved her straw wrapper at me. “You’re the worst.”
I grinned, but it faded slower this time. I let the question rise again.
“You thinking about names?”
Her face softened. She looked down for a second before answering.
“Yeah. I have a few I like. Nothing locked in, though. I don’t know... I keep thinking I’ll just know when I see them. Does that sound stupid?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Sounds exactly right.”
She smiled. A real one.
“What about you?” she asked. “Ever thought about what you’d name a kid?”
“Not really,” I said. “But now that you mention it, probably something solid. Like Nora. Or Theo. Something they won’t hate on the first day of kindergarten.”
“Classic,” she nodded. “Respectable. Definitely not Braylix.”
“Oh God, please no.”
The food came then, and we dug in. Talked about nothing for a while. Team drama. Logan’s new obsession with protein waffles. Dakota’s recent crusade to ban low-rise jeans. I made her laugh so hard she snorted iced tea through her nose, and I pretended not to be secretly charmed out of my mind.
But beneath it all, there was this pull.
A thread of something unspoken. Something we weren’t calling by name. And I didn’t know how long I could pretend I didn’t feel it—this quiet hum in my chest every time her eyes found mine and held on for just a second too long.
When the bill came, I reached for it automatically.
“Jaymie—”
“I invited you.”
