Chapter 8 Tyler #2
But I’m afraid the more I get to know her, the more I’m really starting to like her. These wry, candid comments make it impossible to pull away.
“I get it,” I say. “I like being busy too.”
She glances over at me, and maybe it’s the slant of light as the sun prepares to set, but there’s something almost melancholy about her expression. It makes me want to keep going, just in case she wants to share more too.
“That’s why I like football,” I say. “It tunes out the thoughts when you’re around other people, working toward a goal together. It’s not just about you and your own problems and life. You need to be in the moment with the guys or you’ll all lose.”
“Yeah.” Sabrina keeps her eyes on the road. A long pause falls, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from breaking the silence. Sure enough, after a moment, she blurts, “My parents divorced last spring.”
My gaze flickers over to hers, but she doesn’t meet it. “Oh yeah? No one mentioned that.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wince. Way to sound like a creep who’s been asking about her, Tyler. “I mean—it’s not like it came up—and the team knows how to gossip, that’s for sure—”
Sabrina waves a dismissive hand, and I pray she didn’t notice my more-than-casual interest. “Yeah, I kinda tried to keep it off the radar. Only my best friends know. I didn’t want it to be this whole thing, you know?”
I nod. Oh boy, do I ever.
“I wanted senior year to be about everything I love about this school. All the things I want to do, the projects I care about. I was at my dad’s vacation place in Charleston over the summer, which is nice and all, but it was also kind of a way not to deal with everything that’s changed here.
” She blinks, as if surprised at herself.
“I haven’t said that out loud to anyone.
I mean, Kara probably guessed, because she’s Kara, but otherwise, the whole thing has been so messy and uncomfortable that I barely want to think about it, let alone talk about it…
” She takes a deep breath. “Yikes. Sorry to massively overshare. I guess you’re just a good listener. ”
“Not oversharing,” I say immediately, tucking her compliment close to my chest. “Thanks for trusting me.”
Guys on my old team used to say I was a good listener too.
Santi would always call me whenever he had a problem with his parents to talk through, and both Jared and Avery confessed their crushes on each other while swearing me to secrecy.
But I haven’t gotten close enough to anyone here in Hamilton Lakes to re-create the same connection… and it feels kinda nice.
“And all those feelings make sense,” I add.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few months, it’s that sometimes we just need to know our feelings aren’t so foreign to other people.
It makes me continue, even though my pulse is racing beneath every word.
“My last spring had its own messy and uncomfortable stuff, to be honest. It’s why I ended up here in Hamilton Lakes.
And I get not wanting to think or talk about it.
That’s the last thing I want, most days. ”
Sabrina turns to study me, and I get a flash of panic. Like maybe I shouldn’t have been so honest. Sabrina’s at the very hub of the Hamilton Lakes rumor mill, and if she says something—or asks too many follow-up questions—
But she just nods and gives me a soft smile.
A little sad, but real. Like she gets it.
And maybe like I get her. “Yeah. Well, if you want to talk about it sometime… from one compartmentalized mess to another, I’m all ears.
” She laughs, and the energy of the moment shifts.
“Anyway, thanks for being my homecoming date. It gives me one less thing to worry about this fall.”
I have the feeling of being blocked just as I was going in for a great pass. Like a door was opened just to be closed again.
All I want is to keep talking, to hear more about what makes her tick. It feels like I’m peeling away layer after layer, getting a little closer to her hesitancy around having a real date. But I’ve very clearly gotten the message that this conversation won’t continue. At least not tonight.
“Turn here,” I say, leaning over farther than strictly necessary to point out her left-hand turn. She makes the turn easily, holding herself very still instead of leaning out of the space I’ve invaded, but the tips of her ears turn slightly pink. “Last house on the right.”
“You—you live here?” Sabrina’s eyes widen, glancing between me and the Thompsons’ in a way that suddenly makes me concerned she’s about to plow down a mailbox or two.
I turn to look at the front lawn myself.
There’s a Hamilton Lakes hockey sign out front for Ryan and a football one for me.
Aunt June planted some new flowers to line the boulevard, and they’re thriving, thanks to the last summer shower (as long as you don’t look at the patch that Ryan accidentally trampled when he was trying to park one-handed while sucking down an iced latte the other day).
There’s a light on in Ryan’s room that tells me he made it home, while my guest room window is dark beside his.
Nothing looks out of the ordinary. I frown.
“I know, right?” I shake my head. “Way bigger than my place back home. I heard Ryan throws some sick parties.”
Sabrina pulls the car abruptly to the curb. I cling to my seat belt, inertia jolting me firmly back into my own personal space. “Ryan Thompson?” Her voice has gone a little high-pitched.
I peer at her curiously. “Yeah. He’s my cousin.”
Her mouth makes a perfect O, and I get distracted by the Cupid’s bow of her lips. Then I realize they’re forming the words “I have to go.”
I barely have time to climb out of the car before she’s putting that old clunker’s pedal to the metal like she’s in Fast & Furious: 2 Fast 2 Spirited.
I raise a bemused hand in farewell. Was it something I said? “Bye, homecoming date,” I say to empty air.