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I give her one of my AirPods to listen to, putting a playlist of Taylor Swift on because I vividly remember her bright, wide smile and beautiful voice singing loudly in the back of my car.
Coming to Waterfell might not have been my choice, but I am honored to play with my entire team—with the new exception of Kane. My teammates are good fucking guys who would take care of Ro if I wasn’t here. And she isn’t even my girl—she’s my tutor.
“It’s okay. Let’s take my car. We’ll figure it out.” “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, hugging her tighter as I subtly gesture over her head that we’re good so my lingering teammates can go home. “No apologies. Now, let’s go. I’m starving.”
It takes a long moment before she finally takes the fries out of the bag. I even catch a hint of a smile as she spots the couple of pounds’ worth of special fry sauce, logging that reaction in my head under “Things That Make Rosalie Shariff Smile.”
“Because I wish someone had stopped me before I got lost and broken. And… because I care about you. You’re my friend, Ro.” Her face brightens as she blinks wide-eyed at me. “Yeah?” “I thought we covered this,” I say teasingly. “Unless—” “No. No, I’m your friend.”
She flushes and nods. “Yeah.” There’s a charged silence, and then, “I should go. Thank you for saving me—again. And for everything else.” She hops out, hand on the door to close it. “Thank you, Rosalie,” I say, my voice soft in a way I can’t seem to control around her. “For what?” “For helping me. The math and reading stuff can be… hard.”
“You sure you’re okay?” “Fine,” I squeak out. But for some reason there are tears in my eyes. I am not crying in front of him again. Freddy, as usual, sees right through my lie. Yet he doesn’t call it out. Instead, he shuts his textbook, a move that has me double-checking my watch and the loud clock on the wall. “I have an idea,” he says, palms flat on the table as he leans slightly over it. “Why don’t we skip class?”
“I’ve never done that before.” He grins—not the one he usually dons; this one is all innocent boyish charm. Gentle, genuine. Real. “Me neither.” “Really?” I laugh. “That’s…” “Surprising?” I shake my head. “No, actually, that makes a lot of sense.” “Yeah?” he says, sounding skeptical, but intrigued. He leans forward. “Yeah.” I nod, smiling softly up at him. “You’d never want to even chance letting someone down. You… you always show up.”
Shaking my head, I settle for a safe, “I’ve never been ice skating, actually.” He freezes, mouth opening and closing before a mischievous glint appears in his eyes and he’s starting the car. “Where are we going?” I ask. “To the arena.” “Are we allowed in there?”
He shrugs. “We’re already skipping class, princess. What’s another rule broken?”
“Okay. Well, I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo.” My eyes flare. Not what I expected, but I can work with that. “What did you have in mind?” Her gaze flicks down to my legs. I’m wearing jeans today, but I might as well be naked with the searing intensity of her eyes right over where my thigh tattoo rests. “A butterfly,” she blurts out before shaking her head rapidly and covering her face with her hands. “No, wait. Sorry, I actually don’t know.”
“Actually, I came here mainly because I’m starving, and they have the best pizza in Massachusetts.” Ro looks to where I point next door. “They do?” she asks, disbelieving. I shrug. “According to a”—I look closer at the newspaper taped on the inside of the window—“1995 New York Times article, yes. And honestly, that place looks like it hasn’t changed since, so I think we’re in luck.” I pull open the door for her.
“What is it?” I pull out the two colorful prizes from the machine from where I tucked them earlier, before grinning and juggling them lightly in my hand. “Temporary tattoos.” Her smile is near blinding. “What are they of?” “Didn’t look,” I say, and shrug. “Figure we could choose at random and put them on each other.” “Really? You’d do it, too?” I crinkle my brow. “I’m not letting you have all the fun without me, princess. Now, come on. Pick.”
“You promised,” she laughs, peering over my shoulder to see Hello Kitty staring up at us both. “I know, I know.” I also know exactly the look I’ll see on Holden’s face. I can nearly hear the jokes he’ll throw in the locker room until it washes off. Something makes Ro pause. “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.” “I know.” I fluff her hair affectionately, smiling at her with a shake of my head. “I want to. Promise.”
“Sorry. That was probably so weird. I’m… sorry, Matt. You’re unfortunately very handsome.” “Unfortunately?” It makes me laugh. I’ve been told I’m attractive more times than I can count, but none of them quite so backhandedly. “I’m not—” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I probably made you uncomfortable just now. You don’t have to do this to make me happy—” “Trust me, Rosalie,” I say. “Nothing else I’d rather be doing.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For rescuing me so many times lately… with Tyler. I know that’s probably annoying—” “It’s not.”
“It’s only annoying that he treats you like this. You deserve so much better. You’re amazing, Ro.”
“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Donaldson,” I say before hardening my face to stone. “Leave her alone.”
“Don’t talk to her again, asshole.” My words are sharp edged and swift, loud enough that our beloved professor can intervene, but as long as I don’t raise my fists, I know she won’t. “I’m serious.”
“Go away,” Tyler spits. Freddy clicks his tongue, still smiling, golden hair perfect, pale skin still somehow peachy like he just left the beach, his shirt open slightly so a sliver of his bare chest shows. He looks perfect yet again, and I feel more ridiculous. “Nah,” Freddy says. “I don’t think I will.”
God, it feels fucking good to finally hit Tyler Donaldson. Partially because he’s tormented me for years with his asshole comments during our previous tutoring sessions. But mostly because of the look on Ro’s face I’ve seen one too many times.
“Tyler was using something private against me, and he was being mean to you, too. And I just… I realize how naive I was being. I was upset and I took it out on you last night, so I’m sorry, too. Are we friends again?” I smile, heart too full of the goodness of this moment. “Were we ever not friends, Ro? C’mon—I don’t scare that easily.”
She laughs, and it feels like she’s stitching together pieces of me I didn’t know were torn—the
“Ms. Shariff, I believe I told you in my email that your presence was unnecessary for today.” Ms. Shariff. The name makes me smile, but pride bleeds in. Her sweatshirt has a little kitten playing with a ball of green yarn that matches the color of her linen pants that look a little like pajama bottoms. She’s dressed exactly like herself, and still holding her own against a bunch of stuffy collegiate assholes.
Ro surveys the room briefly, her composure only cracking for a quick wink my way as she settles at my side before placing a thick binder on the table.
The entire room stretches in the silence, while my joy feels almost tangible. No one, since my mother, has defended me so fiercely. I think I’m in love with her—not even romantically, but on some soul level. I feel devoted to her.
I’m walking on clouds as we leave the conference room, registration number for my new replacement course clenched in my hand as I follow a stomping Ro like a lost puppy. “Ridiculous,” she mutters. “The way they treat you is absurd. Have they been like that to you the entire time?” She doesn’t wait for my answer before continuing to stomp across the green, wind pulling some of her curls free until she looks a little more haphazard, softer, and I can’t stop staring at her. “Accusing you of not applying yourself? God—I’m insulted for you. To fight me on that? They don’t know anything about you.”
You’re so smart and kind and I’m proud of you, so… So screw them! You’re better than all of them anyway, Matty. Smarter, too.” I should laugh, but I can’t breathe. Matty. It pours over my skin like warmth and comfort. Home.
“I am. Very angry for you. But I know you’ve got a practice to get to and I made you something.” She opens her car door and reaches in for a little gift bag, handing it to me shyly. “It’s silly, but I wanted to make you something for your first away game this weekend and the official start of your last season. So…” She shrugs again, all the fire from earlier seeming to bleed away into self-consciousness. That has me ripping into the bag faster, pulling out a length of silky blue fabric. It’s a tie, embroidered with the Wolves’ logo and my number in pretty cursive with a star. “A star?” “You’re
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We often send each other voice notes instead of texts—she started it, but I adore them just as much. Not only is it easier for me, faster when I’m in a rush, but I’ve become quite addicted to the sound of her voice.
A few times—when I’ve had to go away for the whole weekend or miss a tutoring session for a two-a-day practice, and especially when studying for an upcoming exam—she sends me audio files to go over the missed topics. I’m sure the guys on the team bus think music is thumping through my ears. But it’s the voice of my favorite girl in the world.
She doesn’t ask where we are going, just hooks up her phone to the aux cable like she’s comfortable here with me. Like she’s done this a million times, and settles back against the headrest while “Dizzy on the Comedown” by Turnover plays as I keep the windows rolled down and pull away from the curb.
I pile her copies, some new and some old, into the tote bag we’ve also purchased, setting the pastel pink bag on my shoulder and heading for the door with Ro behind me.
Freddy wrinkles his brow slightly before whispering, “Is it okay if I carry him?” But he isn’t asking me, he’s asking Oliver to his right. The elder of Sadie’s brothers nods, and my throat catches a little as Matt Fredderic tucks his palm against the back of Liam’s head and angles him to his front so he can stand with the six-year-old already cradled in his arms. He pads lightly to Sadie’s room, shifting his little cargo to open the door with ease.
“You okay?” Freddy asks us both, eyes flickering between Oliver and myself. I nod quickly, letting his eyes settle on the fearsome twelve-year-old with his shoulder angled in front of me, protective as always. “Oliver?” he asks again, stepping a little closer. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” the kid mutters. “Do you want to talk about it?” His brow only furrows further, looking so much like the angry roommate I adore so much that my heart aches. “None of your business.” “Okay.” Freddy nods before ducking down to get closer to Oliver’s level.
Which doesn’t take long. They step onto the back patio as Rhys and I jump up a little too excitedly.
“I like the jacket, Sadie,” I say as they scoot through the mingling crowd into our half circle of friends—mostly our entire first and second line, sans Toren Kane. “Thanks,” she says a bit offhandedly as she keeps her piercing gray eyes trained on my captain. “Ro made it.” Sadie passes me by, and Ro stops at my side with a shy little smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” She blushes. “And this one.” She does a little twirl, showing off the unique, vintage patchwork-style denim. “And I have a surprise for you.” “Because I won?” I ask, slinging an arm over her shoulders and squishing her into my side. “Sure.”
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Steps faltering, I do a quick double-take as we pass them and realize it’s Paloma, face serene and eyes closed as she lies in Reiner’s lap while the stoic goalie carefully guards over her.
You’re the one with Paloma fucking Blake sleeping like a puppy on your thigh while you pet her hair, but sure. Let’s question my decisions.
I kiss her.
“Hey,” he chides gently. “Let’s not use those words to describe ourselves.” I’ve heard Matt Fredderic describe himself as a “whore” or the “school slut” more times than I can count. But Freddy is more protective of every other person in the world than he will ever be of himself.
“No,” I say, cutting him off with a quick shake of my head. “I want to, I’m just— I don’t want you to see me differently.” The confession is raw as it falls from my lips that still tingle from his kiss. “Never.” He smiles, and it’s so blinding it feels like standing in the sun on a warm California beach day. Like home.
He’s covered in tattoos, and I can’t stop my eyes from scanning them slowly, realizing that I recognize quite a few. Starry Night wrapped half around his torso. Bedroom in Arles on one bicep. A unique design that seems to mix Van Gogh’s famous self-portrait with the sunflower vase on one arm. Almond Blossom twining down the other, nearly reaching his fingertips. He’s covered in Van Gogh’s work.
There’s a Ninja Turtle dancing his way to me—so perfectly timed to the eerie beat of The Weeknd’s “Gasoline” that it feels like a fever dream version of my first time seeing him freshman year.
“Dance with me?” I ask. He smiles and touches his nose to mine. “Always.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “I wish I was smart like you. You’re amazing.” My heart squeezes tightly before thumping hard like it’s aching to reach for him as much as my arms are. “You’re amazing, Matt,” I whisper, wiping away the lingering green at his hairline.
He’s smiling so I smile back. Easy as breathing.
I walk a little closer, drawn in by his magnetism.
“Will you sleep here?” he asks, hand reaching out for mine. I take his, letting our fingers play along each other’s. “Just, stay.”
She is in love with him. “You should tell him.”
