Page 4 of You Again

“That’s not what Lucca says?”

Cal squints, his forehead and around his eyes crinkling as he thinks. “Who cares what Lucca says? We’ll be fine. You do what you need to.”

Lucca isn’t the only one unhappy with my absence. I’m not exactly thrilled. A physical match would clear my head. But that isn’t in the cards right now. It doesn’t matter how Lucca or Coach or I feel—my leg isn’t going to magically heal.

Crossing my arms, I watch as Callum pounds one more nail into his simple box. “Were you there when Fran asked her about the game?”

Cal stands and drops his hammer to the ground. “Yeah. I was.”

“And?”

“And she’s in a rough spot, Zev. She needs some time.”

I know that. That’s all I’ve heard. For months.

Time.

She needs time.

And I need time to rewind.

Three

SIX MONTHS AGO

“One year,” Rosalie says, peering out at the road. “That’s crazy.”

“Maybe.” I watch her, behind the wheel, eyes on the road. “You’re sure you won’t get sick if you drive?” Rosalie’s night car sickness has gotten worse since winter hit.

“I’m sure. As long as I’m driving, I’ll be fine. You’re changing the subject.”

I chuckle. “I’m not.”

“Come on, you don’t think our best friends celebrating their first anniversary isn’t crazy? Fran and Callum have been married an entire year. It feels like just yesterday I was talking Fran down from borrowing Stella’s pottery wheel to remake that love scene from the movie Ghost.”

I chuckle. “Now that’s crazy. Fran and Callum being married a year—not bizarre at all.”

“It’s a little bizarre. It happened so fast.” She glances over at me, her long blonde hair trailing down her back after tugging it out of a bun. “You don’t feel like it was just yesterday that Fran was forcing Cal into movie-esque dates while his feelings were in full-on denial.”

“Not yesterday. And it wasn’t that fast.”

She gives me one of her classic glares. “You’ve always had an unhealthy handle on time.”

“Unhealthy?” I laugh. I am tempted to pinch her sides, but she’s driving, so I’d better not. “Because life feels on time to me? Because I don’t think our friend’s relationship is rushed.”

“Yes. Unhealthy. And I don’t think their relationship is rushed. It’s just been a quick year. An even quicker six months.”

“So it doesn’t fly by for me like it does for you.” I shrug and slide my passenger seat back a little. My legs need a lot more room than Rosalie’s.

She huffs, both hands gripping the wheel. “But time also doesn’t drag for you. You are incorrigibly realistic in the matter of time.”

I can’t help but chuckle again. She’s just so passionate about this. “I don’t know, Rose. A minute is a minute. An hour is an hour.”

Rosalie flicks her eyes in a roll. “Does it really feel like we’ve been together as long as we have?”

“Does it feel like I’ve been in love with you for a year and a half⁠—”

“You were not in love with me the day we met,” she growls, but she can’t stop the smile that swells her cheeks.