Chapter Three – Fawn
I lounge back against the brick exterior of the rink. The air feels lighter out here, grounding me from the embarrassing shit show that happened inside. My arms are slung casually over my chest, and I’m cradling Delilah’s denim jacket in my left hand.
She won’t be long. I texted her about ten minutes ago, but knowing Dee, she probably stopped to get iced tea or something.
Even if she is running behind, I don’t mind.
The sun is perfect today, golden and floating high in the sky.
A nice little wind caresses my neck, and it feels great.
It triggers a shiver down my spine. I rest my head back, close my eyes, and absorb the rays on my skin.
Finches sound in a distant tree. I only know they’re finches because my grandpa used to keep an aviary; I was mesmerized by how small a creature could create such a beautiful sound.
Man, I wish summer was all year round.
There’s something about summer that resonates with me — the late nights, blue skies, green grass, and how everything is softer. I feel so much freer in the summer, as if my head’s not working so hard to get through life.
Winter? It completely gets me down. All those gloomy, cold days pile up, and I feel like I won’t see the sun again. The seasonal blues are the worst.
It feels odd to like summer. I used to hate it; not because of the heat or the flies, but because it meant less clothing.
Everyone flaunted their flawless bodies, which I simply didn’t possess.
I admit, I was jealous, but not in a petty way.
I never understood how my body couldn’t look like that. It felt unfair.
But that’s PCOS for you.
Putting on weight was easy, but losing it? A nightmare I don’t want to relive.
Frankly, winter used to be my savior. I could wear thick sweaters and layers that wouldn’t cling to my body.
However, that’s not the case anymore.
I worked so hard to feel amazing and be my best self. I wanted my confidence to soar without all the obstacles I once hid behind. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t occur overnight, but I did it, with everything I had in me.
Most days, I do great; I feel strong. But sometimes, I still see my stretch marks and can’t handle them. They remind me of how my ex would make remarks about them, of what happened, of the things I endured, of how unfair it sometimes got.
I hustled hard. My body — no matter how much it resembles those people I used to be envious of — is completely mine now, and I’m trying to learn how to be okay with it.
Just as I’m ready to bask in the sun again, I hear whispers, making me open my eyes.
Quiet, pointed, intentional. The kind asking not to be overheard.
I glance over to my right, and yup: a cluster of beautiful girls, slightly younger than me, with their pulled-back shiny buns so tight, I swear their eyebrows are an inch higher. They don’t give off the same vibe as the women earlier, but they’re definitely skaters.
They seem a little . . . immature.
They completely glide — no question about it — up to the rink door as if they’re members of some exclusive club I’ll never be accepted into.
They’re wearing super-tight leggings and matching shirts.
Not one of them appears to have ever had to suffer the horror of hormonal bloating. But who am I to make assumptions?
I offer them a friendly smile. And in return?
Their eyes crawl over me in a slow, head-to-toe sweep, before snapping back to my face with a look of disdain. Well, sorry for breathing.
Without speaking, they pivot on their immaculate heels and disappear inside.
Geez, what happened to being a girl’s girl? I scoff and rest my head on the wall. Guess some things never change.
The sound of a car pulling up catches my attention. There’s something about it that seems . . . sort of familiar. I squint, turning my head.
Hang on.
That’s my car. My fucking Toyota Yaris. What the—
Before I can even process this absurd twist, the driver-side window rolls down, and Delilah sticks her head out, smiling like she just got away with the biggest robbery in history.
She looks more put together than she did this morning, that’s for sure.
The messy bun and sleepy face are completely erased, and she’s pulling off this incredibly sleek ponytail.
She’s in a black tank top, highlighting her amazing floral tattoos down both arms — pretty petals and strong vines.
“Get in, loser,” she shouts, radiating pure Regina George attitude.
“How the hell did you—” A breathless laugh bubbles up in my throat. I’m stoked that she managed to fix my car.
She simply slaps on her shades, giving me a smug look. “It was the battery. Duh! You probably left a light on inside or something.”
Crap! Of course, it was the battery. Why didn’t I think of that this morning? This is the third time my car’s battery has died. I might as well get a permanent parking spot at the mechanic.
I slide into the passenger seat, and it’s really strange. The steering wheel’s not in front of me, and that familiar control I always have over my own car is missing.
“All I did was hook the jumpers to my car,” she explains like it was a simple thing to do. “But I think you’ll need a new battery at some point.”
“Fantastic, another expense.” A heavy gust of air whistles through my teeth.
“Well, you doofus, you wouldn’t have that expense if you didn’t leave your interior light on.”
“I know,” I admit, putting my hands up in submission. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I expect her to nail me with some sarcasm. She doesn’t disappoint. “Uh. I know you wouldn’t survive. However, I would get some sleep,” she teases.
She has a point. Unlike me — sibling-less — Delilah grew up as the only female in her household with a father and three brothers.
She learned how to do all the so-called ‘guy’ things before she even hit middle school.
Without her, our house would be a disaster, barely standing with the aid of command strips and ill-advised decisions.
Honestly, if she ever kicks me out, I’ll be absolutely fucked.
Delilah doesn’t even wait until we’re leaving the parking lot before giving me that look. “So, how was the research?”
The last word — I swear, I can almost hear the air quotes surrounding it.
“Oh, you know. Amazing. The first thing I did was fall like a sack of potatoes in front of the coach. So classy. Made a real impression, I’m sure.”
Delilah snorts but doesn’t respond, so I continue, “Then I met a guy named Callum. He’s a player too; the team calls him Cal.” I let her absorb that for a second. “And, of course, I completely embarrassed myself in front of him by referring to the NFL, not the NHL. Honest mistake, right?”
Delilah can’t even handle it. She bursts out laughing, slaps the steering wheel, and then struggles to regain her breath as though I had cracked the ultimate joke.
“Oh, Fawn.” She wipes away a laughter tear. “That’s really embarrassing.”
I cover my face with my hands, wanting to hide. “Like I don’t know that. But yeah, the research went amazingly.”
We continue the drive in silence, with the exception of Delilah’s occasional snorts. I narrow my eyes, holding a forced scowl. Like Cal, she’s never going to let me forget. Damn, they would make the perfect couple.
Delilah smiles at me, except I completely recognize that look on her face. The one where her lips are pressed tightly shut in a smirk, as if she wants to say something. “This Cal . . .” There it is. “Is he cute? Good-looking? Nice?”
I knew this was coming. I should have made a bet with myself.
“If you must know, yes, he is a nice guy. But he’s average-looking.” I don’t mean offense; he just isn’t my type. “Anyway, that’s not why I was there.”
Delilah scoffs. “Well, were there any hotties at all? There must have been.”
I know she means well, wanting me to find someone. Hell, I might as well go ahead and spill the beans: if I don’t, she’s going to pester me the whole drive home.
I sigh, relenting at last. “Fine! There were two guys who caught my attention. Crawley and Anderson.”
She’s looking at me like she’s about to explode with excitement. Her eyes sparkle, but before she can say anything, I shut her down. “No. Not like that, Dee. They were just — they were—” I find myself stumbling over my words.
Oh, crap.
Delilah hums, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “They were what? Girl! You’re totally blushing.”
I squirm a little, suddenly aware the heat is causing my skin to prickle.
I turn my face away from her and breathe out, trying to keep my face cool.
It’s just the sunlight making my face sweat, that’s all, not the thought of Anderson staring into my soul.
“It’s just the heat and the sun making me all flustered. ”
“Oh yeah. The heat,” she repeats. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to say any more. I understand the little rule you made for yourself. No hookups for a year.”
Ah, for a moment I forgot I told her about my rule.
I don’t know why I stumbled on my words when I spoke about Crawley and Anderson.
It’s not because they’re good-looking. No, it’s because they’d make good characters in my book. One full of himself and totally charismatic. And the other one? All broody, holding back like he has some big, heavy secret everyone’s dying to know.
Attempting to shoo Crawley and Anderson out of my head, I need to change the subject before Delilah catches on. “You at the bar tonight?”
“Yup. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t wake me up in the morning. I don’t want to kill you.”
I flash her a roguish smile and place my hand on my heart. “I promise not to wake you up unless it’s a real emergency, like the house is burning down or Sabrina Carpenter tickets go on sale. Which I would buy for you anyway because I need to make it up to you.”
“Very funny,” she replies sarcastically.
“I’m visiting my grandpa tomorrow, but if the car betrays me again, I promise not to wake you and call a professional mechanic instead.”
Delilah’s teasing smile fades and turns a little more serious when I mention my grandpa. “I still need to meet your grandpa. You tell me all these amazing stories.” Now, she’s speaking softly.
Outside the car, the trees blend together, turning into a river of green. A knot wedges in my throat, I want to say something.
Right on cue, like she can sense my state of mind, Delilah turns downs the radio. “Hey, Fawn.”
Trying to keep myself together, I glance sideways at her, but she’s concentrating on the road, hands loose on the wheel. “You’re wonderful with him. He’s a lucky man, having a granddaughter like you.”
My chest constricts. I nod, not because I’m being humble, but because she’s right.
When my father died, there was no one else to step in and look after my grandpa.
Him and my mom never quite meshed. He never approved of my parents’ marriage.
There were years when he and my mom didn’t talk.
So when it all escalated and the dementia kicked in, it was my job to pick up the pieces.
Delilah glances in my direction, clears her throat and interrupts the silence.
“Hey.” She nudges me gently, rousing me out of my daydreams. “Wanna stop for a burger?”
I blink, and the constriction in my chest relaxes slightly.
Something greasy and comforting and filled with cheese sounds good.
“Sure,” I reply, smiling faintly. “I’ll buy yours since you repaired my car. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”
“Deal, but I’m still expecting those concert tickets.” Delilah winks.
Instantly, the weight in the car lifts a little.