Chapter 30
CROSS-ICE FEED: A LATERAL PASS ACROSS THE ZONE TO MOVE THE GOALIE
Deciding to invite Brennan to the Willow Creek Faculty Halloween party was a big step. It’s the entwining of my past, my present, and potentially my future.
When we spoke Tuesday, I blurted out the invitation.
“Are you free Saturday?”
“For you? Always.”
“Are you up for a party?”
“What kind of party?” I hear the hesitancy in his voice and immediately understand why.
I jump in to reassure him. “Low key. I want you to meet my coworkers—other than the athletics department.”
“I’d love to.”
Now, it’s Wednesday and I realized I forgot to break it to him that it’s a costume party. I’m debating how to do that while standing in front of my closet, holding a sweater I’ve owned since grad school and questioning every life choice that led me here.
The awareness of that unfurls inside me, warm and electric.
The problem isn’t the party. There will be more sweets than adults should consume. Teachers overcommitting to costume themes. The principal will bring a charcuterie board shaped like a bat and be insufferably proud of it.
When he calls, I answer with a distracted, “Hey.”
He immediately picks up on my tone. “Everything okay?”
“I have a hypothetical question for you.”
He groans. “That never leads to anything good. Hit me with it.”
I huff a laugh. “Say you had a Halloween party to attend—”
“Which I already said yes to.”
“And this hypothetical Halloween party required costumes, would that be something you’d regret saying yes to?” I cringe as I wait for his answer.
There’s a pause. Just long enough for my stomach to flip and my brain to start narrating my own rejection in third person.
Then—
“Is this hypothetical party still the one where I get to stand next to you all night, meet your coworkers, eat candy, and not feel guilty about any of it?”
My lips curve before I can stop them. “All of the above.”
“I’m in.”
“Really? Still?”
“Just a follow-up question.”
“What’s that?”
“Have you thought about what we should go as?”
I laugh out loud, the sound surprising even me. “I was thinking we’d go as a famous couple.”
“Okay, now I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t be. My idea’s kinda ridiculous.”
“Amy, I’ve watched you blow away teenagers when you teach. Nothing you do is silly.”
I close my eyes letting the warmth of his words flow through me. “What do you think about going as Velma and Shaggy?”
There’s a long pause before I hear a ragged breath escape. “Please tell me you mean this in a way that involves you wearing a mini-skirt and knee-highs?”
“Don’t forget the orange sweater and glasses.”
His moan causes my thighs to clench together remembering the last time I heard it. “Yes, please.”
Even as I’m spinning out scenarios where I can hear that moan again, Brennan yelps. “Do I get to say ‘Zoinks?’”
I warn him, “If you say it more than twice to my co-workers, I’m leaving you at the party.”
“Totally worth the risk.”
Still clutching the orange sweater in my hand, I tease, “I’m looking for an appropriate mini-skirt right now.”
“Not only do I support that, I’m fully committed to being the best Shaggy there is.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“I’m talking scruffy green shirt that looks like it was designed by a doctor and questionable brown pants.”
“Good. Because, in case you didn’t realize it, Velma does not half-ass things.”
“I’ve noticed. It’s only part of why she’s my favorite. What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“Seven?”
“Sounds perfect, my queen.”
I blurt out, “I’m so excited you’re coming with me—that you want to.”
“Amy?”
“Yes?”
“I always want to be there for you.”
My throat tightens, just a little. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“If not before then.”
“Bye, Shaggy.”
“Later, Velma.”
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot. Telling him about the costumes didn’t even phase him.
He seems excited.
And that—somehow—makes me more excited for the party.