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Pippa Hartley is standing in my living room, playing with the dog, and I can’t breathe. When I opened the door, I thought I was hallucinating. Her hair is longer. Same shy smile, same sparkling blue-gray eyes that make me forget my own name. Same soft, musical voice that I’d strain to hear back in high school while she was talking and laughing with the other band kids.
oh
“I know. I trust you.” The corner of his mouth twitches, and his eyes almost look… amused? “I wouldn’t have asked you to move in if I didn’t trust you.” I make a dubious face. “You didn’t ask.” He coughs and looks away. Was that a laugh? It’s so hard to tell with him.
So I had a crush on him in high school. That was years ago. I’ve learned so much since then—mainly to never, ever date one of these superstar guys who has everything at their fingertips. Nothing will ever happen with Jamie Streicher. Knowing this bolsters my confidence.
I like that after the game, Pippa and Daisy will be at home.
“I’m your goalie,” he says. “I’ll block all your shots tonight.”
They shouldn’t be smiling at each other like that. She’s mine, not his.
when the arent even together yet >>>>>
I want to wake up with her, spend free evenings watching a movie on the couch, and go for walks in the woods with Daisy.
