Page 51 of The Do-Over Girl

“I try. What can I do for you, Jeb?”

“It’s what I can do for you—and APA. I’m a reporter here, and I finally convinced my producer to come up and cover your team's story.”

“That’s fantastic. What finally convinced your producer?”

“Social media if you believe it.”

“I do believe it. When will you be coming up?”

“We want to bring a crew up on Friday to cover the season-opening game. We’ll come early and do a series of interviews—including an interview of you if you don’t mind.”

A frisson of panic hits me, but this is a professional call, and it’s not the first time I’ve been in the spotlight while doing my job. “Not at all—though I don’t know that I have anything interesting enough to make the cut for your program.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. We’re going for the human-interest angle as much as the sports angle, and I hear there’s a reunion romance going on between you and Coach.”

Shit. Thinking fast, I use the old switch and bait trick. “Even better, there’s a new blossoming romance between the star hockey player and the pretty cheerleading captain.”

He laughs. “I’ll see you Friday bright and early.”

“You can report to the principal’s office—bet you never thought you’d hear those words again.” He laughs, and we end the call.

Nikki jumps from her seat and throws her arms around me, having heard enough from my side of the conversation to celebrate.

“This is fantastic. TV coverage is exactly what we wanted. Kali, you’re a miracle worker. Things are going better than I ever imagined.”

We end the hug, and I don’t tell her about the so-called human interest story Jeb has in mind. No sense in worrying about it because I’m sure I can find plenty of other angles for him to cover—like the new girl coming to town and adopting Andrews Point. Mia’s story is perfect since she’s already put it out there.

My reunion romance with Nash? No way can Jeb push that story if I don’t talk about it. I know how to withhold information without being difficult. This situation calls for every bit of the professional finesse I’ve developed over the years, and I’m up to it.

Nikki is about to hurry back to her office, but she stops at my classroom door—classic Nikki flinging out the last word. “And in case you were wondering, my advice for you regarding Nash is to call a truce and take advantage of the sizzle.”

I throw an eraser at her, and she ducks needlessly. I missed by a mile, and she laughs in triumph as she escapes back to the safety of her office.

Truce and sizzle. Good advice. Except I thought we had a truce, and then the sizzle somehow complicated the heck out of it.

But since I agree with Nikki’s advice, deep down in those hidden places that are seeing more and more of the light of day, I’m going to have to try harder at the truce, which means working harder at staying in the moment, taking things as they come and not looking back or forward—at least not beyond the end of the school year and the accomplishment of our mission.

Feeling like I’ve been released from a trap, I gather my papers and stuff them in my bag as a sense of urgency takes hold of me. All this time we’ve been wasting suddenly pains me, for real, like I’ve been pounding on a deep bruise. Worse, I’ve been pounding on Nash’s old wound because I know he was hurt, too. What do I do now?

I need to let him know that I’m finally living in the present, taking things one day at a time for as long as I’m here, and we’re on our mission together. Because spending my nights with Nash—despite Charline’s no hanky-panky rule—would make me happy. I think it would make him happy, too.

Though, no matter what Jeb and others may think, I know it’s not a reunion romance. It’s just a truce and sizzle.

So, with my newfound enthusiasm for calling a truce and taking advantage of some in-the-moment sizzle, I watch Nash’s closed office door across the hall like a spy on reconnaissance.

As soon as I see him come out of his office, I jump up from my desk and run—yes, run—in my heels and tight skirt across the hall to reach him before he disappears again.

“Kali.” He catches me as I stop short in front of him, blocking his progress. “You okay?” Crinkles of genuine concern bracket his mouth where his dimple should be.

Instead of answering him, I touch his face. “I’m sorry for ghosting you this weekend. For not living up to the bargain about living in the moment, for—”

“Stop. It’s okay.” His face clears, and when the dimple shows, I sigh in relief and throw my arms around him, not bothering to censor my affection because what the hell?

Nash puts his arms around me, and I don’t care that he’s reluctant.

“What’s this all about, Kali?” He sounds suspicious.

I laugh. “I’m taking good advice—my own and others. I’m tired of hating you.”