Page 88 of Love Lessons
I wonder if she’s taken her anxiety medication.
I wonder if she’s scared.
But it’s not my turn to help her anymore. I don’t get to hold her. I gave that up last night by acting like a prick. So I take a seat alone.
Drake’s fancy jet has wifi. I spend the flight alternately watching oldMission Impossiblemovies and checking my phone for news of the trade.
When we land, my whole body is stiff. I open Uber to get a car, then swivel around to look for Vera. “Hey, want to share a cab?”
“I’m going with Sylvie and Anton,” she chirps without making eye contact. “But thanks.”
My friends all give me the side-eye like I’m radioactive. “What happened there?” Drake asks under his breath.
“I was a dick,” I grumble. “But we weren’t a serious thing, anyway.”
“Hmm,” he says. “If you apologize, maybe youcouldbe a serious thing.”
“Doubt it.” I plan to apologize when I get the chance. But not before I make a few necessary changes.
I get into my Uber alone. We’re crossing the George Washington Bridge when my phone starts pinging with texts. My stomach drops as I pull it out to look.Three-way Trade Changes the Face of Bruisers Hockey, reads the first headline I see.
With my heart in my mouth, I click on it.
I read the article three times through before I remember to breathe. There are two of my teammates’ names in that article. But mine isn’t there.
My exhale is full of relief. A huge bullet dodged.
So why do I not feel happy?
THIRTY
Chirps are Chirps
IAN
“A little to the left,”I say, squinting into the space between the wall and the back of the TV we’re hanging. “There,” I say when O’Doul and I have it lined up just right. “That’s it.”
We both ease our hands off the TV and step back to admire our work. “Nice,” he says. “This place looks great with the furniture in it.”
“Thanks for your help, man. Want a sandwich? The jetlag had me up at four in the morning, so I ordered groceries.”
“Nah, I’m good. Let’s hook up your speakers now. It’ll be awesome when it’s done.”
I pick up the box of cables and set them on my coffee table. “I appreciate the help, but there’s probably somewhere else you’re supposed to be.”
O’Doul plucks a coil of speaker wire from the table and shrugs. “Not really.”
“Look, I’m all right,” I tell him, suspecting that his help today has more to do with me telling him I’m depressed than with my home-movie setup. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know you’re okay,” he says, poking at one of my speakers. “But this is what we do. I’m pretty sure you and I installed Ivo’s TV when he rented my place. And now we’re gonna uninstall it for him when he moves out next week.”
He’s not wrong. “Kid was a long way from home, though. I only moved ten blocks.”
“Doesn’t matter,” O’Doul murmurs.
“You think he’ll be okay in Vegas?” I ask, picking up the other speaker.
“Yeah, he will. Change is hard, but that’s how we grow.”
