Page 115 of Power Play

Ryan’s face went quiet, and I tightened my fingers around the edge of the book.

“If my schedule changes, I forget things. If plans move around, I spend the whole day feeling like I missed something. When something becomes part of my routine and disappears, my brain keeps expecting it to be where it was.” I held his gaze because I had already said too much to retreat cleanly. “You’ve become part of my routine.”

Ryan didn’t smile or tease. He reached across the table and took my hand.

“I like being part of your routine.”

My throat tightened. “Flint changes it.”

“Some of it.”

“What if everything changes?”

“It might.”

I flinched, and Ryan squeezed my fingers.

“You want me to lie?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going to promise you this exact summer keeps happening forever. I have hockey. You have school. Schedules change.”

I nodded even though I hated every word.

“But I’m not disappearing.”

I looked at him.

Ryan held my gaze. “I know what disappearing does to people. If I stop wanting this, I tell you. If something changes for me, I tell you. I’m not going to make you sit around trying to figure out whether I vanished because you did something wrong.”

My eyes burned. “That’s a very specific promise.”

“It’s one I can keep.”

I looked down at our hands. “What if I get annoying?”

“You’re already annoying.”

I laughed before the emotion could embarrass me, and Ryan smiled.

“What if I text too much?”

“You already do.”

“I do not.”

“You sent me fourteen messages about Tennyson before lunch.”

“That was academic distress.”

“You sent a picture of your coffee.”

“It had a heart in the foam.”

“Exactly.”

I smiled while his thumb moved over my knuckles.