Page 74 of It’s All in How You Fall
“Are you nervous about next week?”
What.Oh.The Northfield tournament. The look of concern on his face is about to melt me faster than this heat. I study my rapidly liquefying treat before I become a puddle. “No, no.”
Alex takes a quick bite. “You don’t have to do it. Easy enough to pull out now. Even the hour before. Seriously—”
I cut him off with a hand to his wrist. We both freeze. “Alex, no it’s not that.”
“Is it your back? There’s a trainer in the clubhouse who could take a look if you…”
I furiously shake my head and Alex’s words trail off into a bite of chocolate malt that he’s clearly forced upon himself to give me more time. But I’m not sure I need time as much as I need everything to realign in my brain and stop being a jumble. I’m so afraid this is going to come out wrong and controlling and like I’m entitled to his thoughts and choices. I yank my hand away from him because contact with Alex is definitely not helping me think. “How do I say this?”
I don’t even realize I asked that question out loud until Alex glances down and says, “Caroline, if it’s about Sunny—”
“I talked with Coach Bev before you met me at the gate,” I blurt out so he won’t finish the “Sunny” thought because the last thing I want is for him to feel guilty about that. My eyes fly up and he’s looking at me, measured and still. I glance back down and fiddle with my little wooden spoon. “She was pretty honest about what she thinks you’re giving up by not accepting those wild cards or doing any tournaments, except, well, this one.”
He laughs and it’s a little darker than I expect. “This one, which I’m basically being forced to play because it’s my home tournament.”
“And… maybe you should reconsider your time off.”
He swallows. “Okay.…”
“I know how you feel about this.” My eyes flash to his. “I’m not saying you should dive back in with two feet. I just… maybe keep a toe in the water? Accept one wild card. Go to one big tournament. And then come back and play your soccer games. Prep for basketball. Eat pizza and blow out your speakers with Broadway compilations. I just… you have the chance, and I think you can do the big-time junior tennis stuffyour way.”
He’s silent and again my hand seeks to touch him, landing on the very solid meat of his forearm. Somehow this doesn’t seem as intimate as his wrist, and I give him a supportive squeeze. “I meant what I said weeks ago. If anyone can have it all, it’s you.” I let that sit, the forced air of the fans mounted over the snack bar whipping my ponytail around my face.
Alex’s expression gives away almost nothing, except for the high color rising in his cheekbones and the wink of a dimple as he worries his lip. Pensive looks better on him than it should on any human. It’s really not fair.
I extract my hand from his forearm. The second I peel my fingers away I wish I hadn’t. I drop my spoon into my cup and hold both hands up in the universal gesture for “all done.”
“I’ve said my piece. I promise not to badger you one more second about it or to use my tale of injury woe to guilt you into continuing a path you’re not sure you want to choose. I’ll just stand here next to you as a vertically challenged defender of your perfectly reasonable life choices.”
Alex’s eyes meet mine and there’s something in them that is so electric I almost fall off my chair. “Thank you, Caroline.” His lips are rosy from the cold treat, and after a blink I swear they’re closer. So close that even with his world-class reflexes, if I were the kind of person who would gamble not one friendship but two, I could steal the kiss I want more than nearly anything in this very moment.
Instead, I inch myself back from his mouth, lift my eyes, and remind myself verbally why this cannot be. I swallow and blessedly the words come out as I’ve directed them to. “I should go. I refuse to ruin the upholstery at Eomma with my sweaty self.”
33
I’m late to Eomma.
Of course, Alex gives me a ride home without my asking.
Of course, I can’t say no. It would’ve been both a logistically and vainly stupid move, especially given how I decided to exit our snack bar conversation.
And, of course, as we pull up to my house, he offers to wait around and drop me at the restaurant after I clean myself up. That’s typical Alex-level nice, but… I just can’t hog any more of his Friday night.
God, when I have my driver’s license, I will just zoom away from every awkward interaction.
But because I’m fifteen and stubborn, I simply say goodbye to Alex, race through a shower, and hoof it the mile to the restaurant as I’d originally planned.
When I walk in, I spy Sunny in the back, cup of tea already nestled in her hand and an assortment of kimchi arranged in an elegant row before her. She’s alone, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I’ve somehow managed to beat Peregrine in the late-to-dinner Olympics.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” I tuck my napkin over my lap, take a quick sip of ice water, and turn my surprise into a question about our missing piece. “Wow, I really thought I’d be the last one here—Peregrine didn’t ride with you?”
Sunny swallows her sip of tea. “Actually, I asked her to pop in at six thirty.” It’s ten after now, and as I’m trying to process this information and square it with the possibility that maybe that coffee text from Ryan actually went somewhere, Sunny gently sets down her teacup. “You and I have something delicate to discuss.”
I can’t read her expression. She’s calm, yet… guarded? “I—er, what?” I stumble, unsure of what to say.
Of what this could be about other than, well, Alex.
