She wasn’t his type․ Miles told himself that on the way back from the library with his hands shoved into his pockets‚ his breath fogging the cold November air․ ~~~~ He told himself that again in the shower after morning practice‚ hot enough to feel it stinging‚ like he could scald the thought out of his skin along with the sweat․ He told himself a third time getting dressed at his locker‚ pulling a clean shirt over his head with more force than the task required‚ and by the third time it had started to sound less like a fact and more like an argument he was losing․ Harper was uptight․ Rigid․ The type who color-coded her notebooks‚ who knew the rules by heart and looked at him like he was a math problem she resented having to solve․ Not soft‚ not easy‚ not any of the things that usually drew him in without him having to think about it twice․ Not even close․ Here he was‚ though‚ twelve hours later‚ still thinking about the exact shade her cheeks had gone the instant he’d told her the truth the real one‚ the one he hadn’t planned on saying out loud to anyone‚ let alone a girl he’d known for less than a week․ ‘If I open that book and actually try and still fail‚ I don’t have anything left to blame it on․’ He didn’t know what had possessed him to say it․ He’d had her wrist in his hand‚ her pulse jumping under his fingers‚ and something about the way she’d looked at him furious‚ ready to walk‚ already three steps gone cracked something open in his chest that he usually kept welded shut․ The words had just come out.
True ones.
The kind he didn’t hand to people.
She hadn’t said anything‚ she’d just looked at him for all of one beat‚ something unreadable moving in her eyes‚ and then she’d slipped her wrist out of his grip‚ softly and sedately‚ and she’d said Tuesday again same time‚ same place‚ just like nothing at all had happened․ It had happened‚ though․ He’d felt it happen․ “You’re doing the thing again,” Jude said, dropping onto the bench beside him with the easy thud of someone who’d spent four years sharing a locker room and had stopped bothering with boundaries somewhere around sophomore year.
“What thing?” “The thing where you stare at your shoe like it personally wronged you․” Jude nudged him with an elbow‚ grinning‚ a towel draped over his shoulder‚ hair still damp from the showers․ “You’ve been weird since practice․ The coach yelled at you for missing the easiest pass I’ve ever seen you make‚ and you didn’t even try to argue․ That’s not you‚ man․ You argue with refs about calls that go for you․” “I’m fine․” “Sure you’re fine‚” Jude said again‚ not really believing it‚ leaning back against the lockers and looking at him with the sort of patience irritating enough to be a best friend․ “This about the tutor thing?
Reyes mentioned it at breakfast.
Said the Dean’s office finally got serious about your GPA.” “It’s handled.” “What do you call it?
Because Marcus said you walked out of the library last night looking like someone hit you with a truck.
A good truck.
A truck you wanted to get hit by again.” “Marcus needs to mind his own business.” Marcus minds everyone’s business‚ that’s his whole personality․” Jude laughed‚ then sobered slightly‚ leaning forward with his elbows on his knees․ “Seriously‚ though․ You good?” Miles opened his mouth to say yes‚ the automatic answer‚ the one that required no further explanation and ended the conversation cleanly․ What came out instead surprised him almost as much as it surprised Jude․ “She told me to fuck off and then I grabbed her wrist and told her something true․” Jude blinked․ “That’s the most interesting sentence you’ve said in a year․” “It’s not a thing․” “You grabbed a girl’s wrist and told her something true and now you’re staring at your shoe like it broke up with you‚ and it’s not a thing․” “She’s not my type‚ Jude․” “Sure‚” Jude said‚ in the exact tone of a man who did not believe a single word and had no intention of pretending otherwise․ “What’s she like, this not-your-type girl?
Miles thought about it longer than he meant to.
Thought about the legal pad with its seven numbered rules, the way she’d recited them like she’d rehearsed the speech in the mirror.
Thought about the flush climbing up her neck when he’d called her cute, the way she’d tried to argue it wasn’t true with the same intensity she probably argued everything, like losing wasn’t a concept she’d ever fully accepted.
Thought about the second just a second when the wall had come down and something honest had looked back at him instead.
“She’s annoying‚” he said finally․ “She’s got rules for everything․ She looked at me on day one like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe․” “And?” “And I can’t stop thinking about her․” Jude could only whistle under his breath before leaning back and pretending the words had knocked the air out of him․ “Oh‚ you’re done․ You’re so done․” “I’m not done․ I just said she’s not my type․” “You said that about four different things in one sentence‚ and none of them were she’s not my type․” Jude got up from his chair‚ grabbed his bag‚ and grinned like he had discovered something he fully intended to enjoy for a very long time․ “This is going to be good․ I’m getting popcorn for this one․” “Get out of here.” “Tuesday’s your next session‚ right?
I want a full report․” “Jude!” “Full․ Report․” He was already walking away‚ laughing against the lockers as he made his way toward the door․ Miles sat for a moment longer‚ shaking his head‚ trying to get his mind back to she’s not my type‚ and also irritated that the path had gotten considerably harder to find․ He was still thinking about it when he walked out of the athletics building‚ gym bag slung over one shoulder‚ the cold air not clearing his head the way he’d hoped it would․ The sky had gone that particular shade of November gray that made everything look like it was being filmed through a dirty window․ “There you are․” Even without turning around‚ he would have known it was Kendall Hayes; her voice‚ warm‚ practiced‚ built to be listened to‚ had announced her presence before the rest․ But she very quickly fell into step next to him like nothing had happened‚ like the last conversation they’d had hadn’t ended the way it had ended‚ like her hand on his arm was as casual and right as it had always been‚ like she still had the right to touch him whenever she wanted․ “Kendall․” “You didn’t text me back․” She said it lightly‚ but there was an edge underneath it‚ the kind he’d learned to recognize a long time ago․ “I sent you something Thursday․ Funny how you used to reply within the hour․” “Busy․” She smiled․ The smile didn’t reach her eyes․ “Heard you got assigned a tutor․ The reading review girl․ Harper‚ right?” She said the name like she was testing the weight of it‚ deciding whether it deserved to matter․ “She’s cute‚ in a librarian sort of way․” “She’s fine at her job․” “That’s not what I asked․” Kendall ground to a halt․ He did the same․ Kendall spun to face him with her arms crossed‚ one perfect piece of hair coming loose in the cold wind․ “We were good together, Miles.
You remember that, right?
Before you decided being single was more fun than being mine.” “That was a long time ago․” ‘Three months isn’t that long.” She was close enough for him to smell her perfume․ Same scent as always․ It used to mean something‚ but all it meant now was a headache behind his eyes․ “I’m not trying to start anything․ I just want to know․” She was looking at his face‚ taking the details in like photos‚ like reconnaissance instead of pure and simple curiosity․ “Are you seeing someone?” The question landed somewhere he hadn’t expected, and for half a second just half a second, but half a second too long, half a second that meant something he wasn’t ready to examine his mind went somewhere it had no business going.
A library table.
A legal pad with seven rules.
A wrist warm under his fingers.
“No,” he said.
The pause before it was beginning to reveal itself to someone like him‚ and then it landed on her face‚ a slight narrowing of her eyes‚ filed for future reference․ “Now piss off‚ Kendall‚” he said‚ stepping around her‚ and walked on toward the parking lot; the cold would do nothing this time to clear the one name still sitting‚ stubborn and unwelcome‚ at the front of his mind․