Page 67 of Made Better Together

“I’m definitely a library man,” he says in amused tone. “It’s a shit show at the Hockey House, as you know.”

The so-called “Hockey House” is an off-campus four-bedroom home down the street from the main campus. Some alumni have rented to Tolliver hockey players for years. The exact guys change, but it’s always four juniors or seniors who are starters.

This year, Jake must be living there with Greg, who has been one of the four since last year.

“I don’t know anymore, since Greg and I broke up ages ago. But I believe you.”

He nods, then his brow wrinkles. “That was…okay when it ended?”

“Oh yeah, it was well over a year ago, and of course he’s dating Lucy now.” Greg and I have had no issues keeping things amicable, as he’s spent the last ten months with a really cool player on the volleyball team. “It wasn’t meant to be. Nothing bad happened.”

“Good. Nice.” His face smooths out with that answer.

“So where are you in the reading? You must be further than me.”

“I’m on page 278.” We’re studying the Renaissance this week, and yep, he’s like thirty pages ahead.

“Alright, do your thing, I need to catch up.”

We go quiet, as our textbooks hold our attention. About forty minutes later, he sighs. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Awesome.”

“I’ll stay here though, and go back through to take notes for both of us to use?”

He really is being so generous on that front. “If you don’t mind? They’re so helpful.”

“Absolutely. I need them too.”

Another thirty-five minutes later, I’m finally finished. I let out a yawn, stretching my arms.

“Welp, mission accomplished.”

He gives a little chuckle. “You should be very proud.”

“Proud maybe, relieved definitely.” I check my watch. “I need to get home to change for practice. Do you have yours soon?”

“Yeah, I have to get ready shortly. I’ll walk you out.”

A little déjà vu hits with that phrase. Just like Connor said when he escorted me from the office.

Only my reaction to Jake is nothing like with Connor.

No spark.

No energy.

No tingles.

“I’ll catch you later,” I say, hustling away as soon as I feel the fresh air hit my face through the entryway.

“Bye, Eden,” he calls behind me.

And once again, Jake slips through my mind as soon as he’s out of sight.

My weekly ritual for our Thursday games continues—on Wednesday night, I lock down my mind to focus solely on soccer. The next eighteen hours, nothing else matters.

Happily, the result proves no different when we win our game on Thursday afternoon handily, still undefeated for the season.