Page 62 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
For a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to choose him instead.
Then I shove the thought down, sit back down at my desk, and get back to work.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering longer than it should. Every word feels wrong, but I type it anyway.
Me: Won’t make nine. Coach moved pre-trip checks up to tonight.
The three dots pop up almost immediately. I brace myself for the sting, for the silence, for him to finally show me what it looks like when he gets tired of being let down.
Instead—
Eli: Guess that means I’ll see you for my shoulder check. ??
And after you finish poking and prodding everyone else, you can stop by and give me a personal once-over.
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course. He makes it sound easy. Light. As though it doesn’t matter that I just pulled the rug out from under him.
But I canfeelit—the weight beneath his words. The way he masks whatever flicker of disappointment is there with teasing, with sunshine, because that’s who he is. He refuses to dim, even for me. Especially for me.
And it guts me.
Because I don’t just want to see him for a check. I don’t want to show up hours later smelling like antiseptic and tape, stealing scraps of time. I want all of it—his grin, his warmth, the way he makes me laugh like I haven’t since before my whole life went sideways.
I want him.
And the terrifying part is, I think I already have him.
The realization hits so sharp I sit back hard against the chair, phone clutched in my hand. Shit. I’m falling for him. Headfirst, no brakes.
And if I’m not careful, I’ll crash the same way I did before.
Before I can overthink it, before the sensible part of me can shove the phone back in my pocket, my thumbs are already moving.
Me: You still at the diner?
It’s rash. Stupid. Not trainer behavior, not professional, not me. But the second I hit send, my pulse starts hammering.
His response is instant, as if he was waiting for it.
Eli: Yeah. You coming?
My throat goes dry. I should say no. I should back out now, salvage what’s left of my common sense.
Instead…
Me: Might stop by.
And just like that, I’m walking. Out into the cold, down the shoveled path, my breath puffing white in front of me as I cross toward the glow of the diner windows. Through the glass I spot them—Eli, Daniel, Todd, Peter. Normal. All of it painfully, beautifully normal.
I push the door open, the bell overhead chiming, and four heads turn my way.
“Calder?” Todd blinks, confused.
I clear my throat, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets as if that’ll make me look less out of place. “Was grabbing coffee, figured I’d, uh—stop in. Didn’t know you guys were here.” A lie. They all know it.
Daniel and Todd share a look, something wordless passing between them. Peter shrugs, unconcerned, and turns back to his fries.
And Eli—sweet, infuriating Eli—doesn’t miss a beat. He scoots closer to Daniel, patting the empty space on the bench beside him. “Plenty of room, Calder. Sit.”
