Chapter 19
Nineteen
CHLOE
Idon’t know how many times we run the drill or how many times I win. I lose myself in the game, and I have way too much fun. Rhoads tries to distract me with charm, but I shut that down quickly.
I play it off like I’m immune, but the truth is, I don’t trust myself to focus on the game if he’s making me blush.
We definitely spend more time playing soccer than studying for our test, but neither of us suggests we go back to the books.
After a water break, I sit in the middle of the grass, looking up at the sky. Rhoads sits down next to me.
“So, you think my starting spot is safe?” I ask.
“You’ve made progress, for sure.” His eyes meet mine. The unnamed cloud that sometimes hangs out there has dissipated, at least for now.
“Likewise. I think you can convince coach Danes to hold off on the ballet lessons for a bit longer.”
Rhoads laughs. The sound of it releases the last lingering tension in my chest. It’s warm and cozy, like sipping a caramel macchiato on a snowy day.
After a quiet minute, I break the silence. “You seem happy, too, you know.”
His smile widens, and he looks away for a beat, like he’s embarrassed, before returning my gaze. “You know what, Baker? I am.” He knocks his cleated foot against mine.
I don’t pull away. A gust of wind whispers across my skin, crackling with Big Moment energy. My lips part.
Trust your instincts. Follow your gut. Don’t think, just do.
If I listen to the thoughts floating in my head, I’ll lean forward right now.
But then he stands, offering his hand to me once again. Like the breeze, the moment is gone.
“Back to the books?” he says.
“If we must.” I follow him to the den, disappointed in myself. I let go today during the game, but for some reason, I’m just not ready to make that same leap off the field.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Rhoads says an hour later, when we’ve finished going over every piece of information that might be on our test. “Good old Adam Smith knows how to party.”
I pack my bag slowly, my body knowing that when I’m done, I have to leave.
I search for any reason to stall my departure.
As we move toward the door, Rhoads picks up the snow globe with the three bikes inside and turns it over in his hands.
It’s an automatic movement, like an involuntary twitch he doesn’t realize he has.
A tell, like my hand giving away which direction I’m going to cut.
“Jenson will like you whenever you get a chance to meet.” His voice is reserved, a bit soft.
“You keep me in line. He’d appreciate that. ”
I don’t know what to say to that, because he’s still holding back.
I’m not sure what’s going on with his friend, but Rhoads isn’t telling me the whole truth.
I just sling my backpack over one shoulder, my hands painfully aware I have nothing left to collect.
And I have no other reason to stay. “Well, I guess I’d better go. And good luck with the test.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll see you Monday.” Rhoads shakes the globe one last time and places it on the shelf.
He watches as bits of fake leaves trickle down, showering the three bicycles which flip and float.
He doesn’t notice me watching. His gaze is locked on the globe, his jaw tight with anticipation.
It’s an intimate moment, like walking in on someone half-dressed.
But I can’t look away. His expression stalls my breath. Longing and hope and sadness all swirl behind his eyes.
The bikes land, all three of them tires down and upright, sticking as if glued to the bottom. Rhoads’s shoulders relax, and he smiles to himself.
In my chest, calmness blooms. I didn’t know it, but I’d been hoping they’d land that way, familiar and somehow right. Like every other possibility would have shattered the glass.
Once I’m buckled into my car, I idle for a few minutes, trying to name what just occurred. I don’t know what the bicycle snow globe means to him, but it feels important that he allowed me to see it. A Big Moment in our growing friendship. Like he’s trusting me with a secret part of himself.
My heart is leaning forward, toward him and whatever attraction exists between us, even though my head keeps trying to pull me back.
If I open up to him, will I be like the bicycles, defying the laws of gravity?
In my mind, their tiny wheels balance, their spokes glimmering with hope. I tuck the image away as a small reminder that sometimes, no matter how small the chance, sometimes things do work out.