Chapter 7

Ryder.

Practice was supposed to clear my head.

It didn’t.

I spent the first twenty minutes slamming pucks like they’d personally pissed me off, and Coach finally blew the whistle and told me to stop trying to kill the net. Kane skated up beside me, grinning like an idiot.

“You good?”

“Fine.”

“You look like you want to fight somebody.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Kane raised his eyebrows and let it go, which was smart. I wasn’t in the mood to explain that my problem had glasses, freckles, and a mouth that kept telling me to shut up and do the worksheet.

Ivy Bennett was living in my head rent-free and I hated it.

After practice I sat on the bench longer than I needed to, unwrapping the tape from my wrists and replaying Tuesday in my mind. She’d told me I was doing better. Then she’d shut down the second I brought up Kane. That was the part that stuck. Not the compliment. The way her whole face changed when I said his name.

I didn’t like that.

I also didn’t like that I cared.

Nora was waiting by my car when I came out of the rink. Perfect hair. Perfect coat. Phone in her hand like she’d been taking pictures of herself against my passenger door.

“There you are,” she said, smiling. “I texted you.”

“Practice ran late.”

“You always say that.” She stepped in and kissed my cheek. “Are you coming over tonight? My roommate’s gone.”

A few weeks ago that would’ve been an easy yes. Tonight it felt like homework I didn’t want to do.

“Can’t. I’ve got a quiz.”

Nora blinked. “You? Studying?”

“That’s the rumor.”

Her smile stayed in place, but it thinned. “Is this because of that tutor girl?”

“It’s because I don’t feel like failing.”

“Right.” She crossed her arms. “What’s her name again?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m just asking.”

“Ivy.”

Nora made a small face, like the name itself was cheap. “Cute. In a sad way.”

Something ugly kicked in my chest. I unlocked the car. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Ryder.”

I looked at her over the roof.

She softened her voice. “You’ve been distant. People are going to notice.”

“Then let them notice.”

I got in and drove off before she could turn it into a scene. In the rearview she was still standing there, phone already back in her hand. I told myself I didn’t care what she was typing.

I almost meant it.

I didn’t go home.

I ended up at the campus café near the library because I was hungry and because I knew Ivy studied there sometimes. I wasn’t looking for her. That was the lie I used when I ordered a sandwich I didn’t want and took the table by the window.

She was already there.

Back corner. Same ugly sweater. Textbooks stacked like a wall. One earbud in. She hadn’t seen me yet, which gave me a few seconds to just look. She looked tired again. The kind of tired that sat in her shoulders. There was a half-empty water bottle next to her and no food. Of course there wasn’t.

I walked over before I could talk myself out of it.

“You left your highlighter again,” I said.

She jumped so hard her knee hit the table. “Jesus, Ryder.”

“Relax. I’m not here to rob you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She pulled out the earbud and glared up at me. “What do you want?”

“Food. Same as everybody else.” I dropped into the chair across from her without asking. “You always sit like you’re hiding?”

“I sit where people leave me alone.”

“Tragic.” I pushed the sandwich toward the middle of the table. “Eat.”

She stared at it, then at me. “No.”

“It’s not poisoned.”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me anything.”

“Didn’t do it for you. I ordered too much.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It is. Still eat.”

Her cheeks went pink under the freckles. She looked around like somebody might be watching, then lowered her voice. “I don’t need charity.”

“Good. Because this isn’t charity. It’s me being tired of watching you run on air and spite.”

“You’re so—”

“Cocky?” I offered. “Annoying? Full of shit?”

“All of the above.”

“Cool. Eat anyway.”

She hesitated long enough that I thought she’d throw it at me. Then she tore off a corner of the sandwich like it personally offended her and took a bite. Small. Reluctant. Still a bite.

I leaned back, satisfied.

“Don’t look so proud of yourself,” she muttered.

“Too late.”

We sat there in this weird quiet that wasn’t quite fighting and wasn’t friendly either. She ate more than I expected. I pretended not to notice. Every now and then she pushed her glasses up, and I caught myself watching her mouth instead of my phone.

“You following me now?” she asked.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re in my café.”

“It’s a public café, Jenner.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“No.”

She exhaled through her nose, the same little frustrated sound she made when I got a problem wrong on purpose. I liked that sound more than I should’ve.

Kane texted me while she was packing up.

Kane: nora’s asking where you are

Kane: you good?

I locked my phone.

Ivy stood, bag already on her shoulder. “Thanks. For the sandwich. I guess.”

“You’re welcome. I guess.”

She almost smiled. Almost. Then she ruined it by adding, “Don’t do it again.”

“No promises.”

She walked out, and I stayed there like an idiot, staring at the empty chair and the crumpled wrapper she’d left behind.

My phone buzzed again. Nora this time.

Nora: come over. I miss you.

I didn’t answer.

I finished the rest of the sandwich Ivy hadn’t touched and told myself this was still nothing.

It was starting to feel like a lie I couldn’t keep selling.