Page 4 of Heart Check
Dawson rolls his eyes. “Right. Well, since I only have ten left, this one’s gonna be busy. Can you cover my shift tonight?”
He’s already fiddling with his phone, barely looking at me as he asks. As if I’m simply going to say, “Sure, whatever you please, Lord of the Hockey Puck!”
I hate that we have to work together at his family’s restaurant, and it sure hasn’t done anything to change my opinion about hockey players. He rarely acknowledges me, taking care of his duties without any small talk. Too good for nonathletes, I guess. Like the rest of this town.
“What if I have plans?”
He looks up from his phone then, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”
I frown. No, I don’t. I never have plans other than working, whether it’s at the Lakeside Diner, or building my business, or on school stuff. I can’t let up if I’m ever going to get out of Hamilton Lakes.
I need the money from this shift. Since it’s clear there’s going to be no school support this year, I need to save every cent I can. My parents aren’t going to be able to pay my way through a good business program, which isn’t something someone like Dawson could ever understand. I can’t imagine how much his parents have spent on coaches and equipment and ice time over the years, and Iknowhe only works at thediner because it’s a family expectation to chip in. He doesn’t need the job like I do.
And the way Dawson swans around like hockey’s the only viable pursuit in this town—the way he assumes I can’t have anything important to do myself—well, it all just heightens my determination to make my business a success this year. He’s not the only one who works hard.
“My only plan is to have a conversation with Principal Castillo about what a gross misuse of funds this arena is.” I smile tightly. “But I’m sure I can fit in a shift around that!”
Dawson doesn’t even fake a smile back. “Cool. Thanks.” We stare at each other for a long moment filled with mutual disdain. The heat rises in my cheeks, as it always does when I have to interact with the king of the jocks. Noah may be the captain, but Dawson’s the one who’s had all eyes on him for as long as I can remember.
He’s the first to break the staring contest—I almost crack, my mouth twitching in a triumphant grin—giving Marissa a brusque nod before brushing past. At least six fans trail behind him. I don’t love the term puck bunnies, but if the jersey fits…
As soon as he’s gone, Marissa and I whirl to each other in outrage. “I can’t believe he acknowledged my existence,” she says with an eye roll.
“Ican’t believe you asked him out in ninth grade,” I say.
We both shudder.
“Momentary lapse of judgment,” Marissa says. “Study hall goggles. Thank God he turned me down.”
“I’m not sure God had anything to do with it. More like the charms of Hannah Kennedy.”
We’re silent for a moment, remembering the way Marissa came out of study hall all smitten from Dawson’s flirtatious pencil borrowing, convinced there was a spark there. The smile he turned on her in the halls, the inside jokes he referenced from their shared hours of boredom.
The awkward silence after she shot her shot, when he told her he didn’t date during the school year. Too busy, focusing on his game, blah blah blah.
And then the way he turned around and went to homecoming with Hannah a week later, and barely acknowledged Marissa’s existence ever again.
“Jerk,” we mutter simultaneously.
Good thing he showed his true colors so early on. It’s almost impossible to believe now, but there was a window—abrief, impulsive, unfoundedwindow—when I’d also thought Dawson was pretty cute. When I walked into his parents’ diner only to be informed that the dark-eyed guy with the sleepy smile was going to train me, the first thought zipping through my mind was:Fuck. There goes this job. Because it’s going to be impossible to maintain any kind of good judgment around that level of off-the-charts attractiveness.
It only got worse that first week, as he patiently walked me through all the details of opening and closing, not seeming to mind at all when I messed up the fryer. He’d even made a few jokes at his own expense, and I’d gotten that swoop in my stomach that set off blazing red IMMINENT CRUSH alarms.
I couldn’t have a crush on my bosses’ son. I needed this job.
But then Marissa set her sights on him, and despite a brief moment of dismay, it made things a lot easier. Girl code. Thou shalt not pursue thy bestie’s object of desire.
When we both realized the truth, things got alotsimpler. A lesson everyone must learn, I suppose—a cute smile and a nice butt can hide all manner of evils. I’d felt so stupid, thinking even for a moment that Dawson might not be as egotistical as I’d assumed. It was a rude wake-up call, like getting dumped out of a cozy bed and onto a cold, bare floor.
Never again. My own foolishness is one thing, but Marissa’s honor is another. Girl code commandment the second: hold thy bestie’s grudges until the end of time.
“Well, at least it taught me to steer clear of the hockey team.” Marissa sighs and hoists her backpack higher. “Meet you in the library after lunch?”
I nod. “Yeah. I need to squeeze all my homework in before Dawson’s stupid shift.”
Marissa wrinkles her nose, waving goodbye before heading toward the science wing.
I linger, taking one last look at the sparkling rink.
