“Sure?”
Emmett’s head falls back with his laughter. “You really don’t know a thing about the game, do you?”
“You put the puck in the net.” I shrug. “I’ve never lived next to a hockey family before. You people are weird.”
He smirks. “I’ll see what I can do.” Bending down to give Murphy a scratch, he takes steps backward toward his house. “But only if you come.”
He just wants to be friends so why does it feel like he’s flirting with me?
With reluctance—because I could spend the whole day standing here, talking to Emmett—I turn and lead Murphy toward the house.
“Hey, Aria! Mick and I were talking about your closet,” my mom says through a sip of coffee.
“I don’t have a closet.”
“Exactly. He thinks he can frame out the left corner by the door and build you something nice, with shelves and cubbies. Custom. Wouldn’t that be great?”
“That’d be awesome. Hey, Mick.” I offer politely.
“Hi, Aria. How’s the water pressure holding up for ya?”
“It doesn’t take me ten years to rinse the shampoo out anymore, so … good?”
By his nod of satisfaction, I guess that’s the right answer.
Mom’s eyes flicker to Emmett’s retreating back. “He found you, did he?” A secretive smile touches her lips.
Oh, she so knows about my crush on Emmett.
My cheeks burn. Has she been reading my diary after all? A flash of panic tightens my stomach.
No. There’s no way she found it.
“Murphy likes to chase cats,” I blurt, wanting a change of topic, especially in front of our handyman. “And he’s a lot stronger than you’d think, so be careful, if you’re ever walking him.”
“Noted.”
Mick reaches down to scratch beneath Murphy’s chin, earning himself a lick. “Hey there, old man. How you doin’ today?”
Mom studies Mick’s face. Now that I’m closer, I see that she not only did her hair in the time between waking me up and now, but her cheeks are rosy with blush and her lashes are coated in mascara.
She suddenly looks up and catches me watching her gawk at Mick. She gives her head the slightest shake. “Before I forget, Heather and Mark invited us for Thanksgiving dinner next Sunday. I know it’s your birthday but I thought a family dinner would be nice.” Her forehead furrows. “I can’t remember the last time we had a turkey.”
Because turkeys have always been too much work and so messy and “God, what do you do with all the leftovers?” complicated.
And none of that matters because it means I get to spend at least part of my sixteenth birthday with Emmett. “That’s fine.”
“Good, because I’ve already said yes.” Mom’s lips quirk. “I figured you’d be more than agreeable.”
Now she’s teasing me.
I plaster on a wide smile. “You look really nice this morning, Mom. You did your hair and makeup and everything. Were you expecting someone?”
Mom’s eyes flash first to Mick and then to her coffee mug, her cheeks glowing. “I thought we’d go out shopping when you got back from your walk. For a new couch and wine and stuff.”
“You want your fifteen-year-old daughter to help you shop for wine?”
“What? No! And cheese and groceries and …” She’s flustered. My mother is never flustered. She laughs and shakes her head, flashing me a warning glare. “Go on inside, Aria. There’s a plate of pumpkin bread on the table.”
“Pumpkin bread today. Great.” I drag my feet up the stairs.
“Your mom is quite the baker,” Mick offers.
“Yes. All of a sudden, it would seem. It’s like she’s trying to impress someone.”
“Okay. Off you go!” Mom shoos me inside with a wave of her hand.
15
I should have dressed warmer.
Heather warned me that the rink would be much colder tonight than last time, back when summer still lingered in the air. I misjudged and now I’m left shivering in my fleece sweater and my fall vest, my only source of warmth the watered-down hot chocolate I grabbed from the snack bar.
I’ll gladly freeze if it means watching Emmett play, though.
He flies down the ice with the puck, passing it to one of his teammates. Cassie and I were late arriving. He hasn’t looked up here yet, he’s so focused on the game. I doubt he knows I’ve come. We’re sitting apart from Heather and the group of moms again, at Cassie’s request. She says it’s because they yell and swear too much, but I think it’s because Cassie doesn’t get a lot of time away from Heather’s watchful eye, and she relishes every opportunity.
I can’t blame her.
Suddenly there’s a chorus of loud shouts and a whistle blows and the ref points at one of the players on the other team, then makes a hand-chopping gesture. “Hey, Cassie. Do you know what that means?” My words drift as I take in her face. I can’t help but laugh.
She giggles and licks her lips. “I have a chocolate mustache, don’t I?”
“Yup. An extra big one.”
“This is why I need a straw!”
“You should bring one from home next time.” I reach for the box of Junior Mints between us.
And scowl as the last one tumbles into my palm.
“Oh. Yeah.” Cassie pauses to peer down at my hand. “I ate them all.” She’s grinning broadly, her front teeth coated in the chocolate evidence.
I crumple the box as I watch Emmett race for the puck, deftly maneuvering his stick to swipe it from the opposing player.
“Are you mad?” There’s a hint of panic in her voice, as if the idea of me being angry with her is sinking in and causing her anxiety.
“No, I’m not mad. I’m annoyed. Do you know what that means?”
She searches her thoughts. “When someone does something that bothers you?”
“Exactly. It bothers me that you ate all the Junior Mints.” In five minutes. “They’re my favorite.”
She swallows. And then her face breaks into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.”
A round of cheers explodes and I glance back in time to see Emmett clapping gloves with another player. “Did Emmett score?” Dammit, I missed it!
He turns toward the stands and points in our direction.
I freeze for a moment. “Me?” I mouth, covertly gesturing at myself, my cheeks heating.
He’s pulled his glove off and holds up one finger.
I feel the big, dumb grin stretch my lips. One goal down. Two to go. I did demand that earlier.
“What is Emmett saying?” Cassie frowns. “Why did he do that?”
“Nothing. It’s a joke between us.”
One of his teammates follows his gaze up to the stands and then gives him a playful shove against his shoulder.
He knows I’m here, all right.
“I was there on Saturday! The creepy Pennywise clown?” Jen’s blue eyes widen as she squeezes my biceps. “I hate normal clowns. But that clown? I almost cried!”
I laugh, spinning my combination lock. “Same here.” Had I not had Emmett’s strong chest to bury my face in, I might have.
Then again, if not for carnival Pennywise and the face-licker, I wouldn’t have found myself in Emmett’s arms that night. They deserve giant raises.
“Ready for the chem test, Jen?” Emmett sounds breathless as he sidles up beside me to lean against the lockers, his textbook casually tucked under his arm. He smells of soap and the perfect amount of cologne, like he just stepped out of the shower, even though his hair is barely damp anymore.
“Probably not. You?” She slams her locker shut and adjusts her shirt collar. She’s wearing a turkey print today and, as hideous as it is, I’ve found myself looking forward to discovering what Jen is wearing on any given day. I’ve noticed that not all the looks from students are negative. A girl walked by us minutes ago, her eyes narrowing on Jen’s back just long enough to decipher the tiny birds, before a genuine smile touched her lips.
Emmett smirks. “Probably not.” Those intoxicating brown eyes shift to me. “How was practice this morning?”