Game Day

"Nova, are you even watching?" Priya screamed over the crowd.

"I'm watching." God… I wasn't watching. I was busy watching Leo.

Leo Carter, number seven, Westfield Academy's best student. In my very humble and totally unbiased opinion, the most beautiful human being to ever lace up a pair of hockey skates. He moved across the ice like he owned it… urhhgg, he's so unique, calm and clean.

I had been practicing what I wanted to say to him for three weeks. Three weeks of mirror rehearsals, and gluing sticky notes on my room mirror so that I won't make a single mistake

Today was the day. After this match, I was going to walk up to Leo Carter, hand him the letter I had been rewriting since Tuesday, and finally stop being a coward… I'm gonna confess my love for him today.

That was the plan.

Then the crowd went crazy.

Not for Leo, but for someone else.

"Oh my God, who is THAT?" Priya grabbed my arm so hard I almost dropped my hot chocolate.

I looked toward the ice.

There was a new player cutting through the defense like the others weren't even there, smooth, fast and completely unbothered. He was acting like this was just a warm-up and everyone else was just in his way. He was very handsome, tall and built. Moving with this lazy kind of confidence that somehow looked even better in motion than it had any right to.

The girls around us were already chanting.

"Rhys! Rhys! Rhys!"

"Who's Rhys?" I asked.

The girl in front of me turned around so fast I nearly flinched. She had perfect highlights in her hair and the expression of someone who had just been personally offended.

"Babe… Don't tell me you don't know who Rhys Caldwell is?" she said, like I'd asked her who invented oxygen.

"Clearly not, that's why I asked."

"He transferred last week," Priya whispered, leaning in. "His dad owns like four tech companies, and the beautiful part of it is that he's been to three countries this year. Someone said he has a black card with no limit…"

“That's his problem… Who cares?," I said rudely.

The highlight girl was still looking at me like I was something she'd stepped on. "Sweetie, you're really out here asking who Rhys is? At a Rhys game? You can't be serious right now… Get out of here with that."

I opened my mouth.

"Nova." Drey's voice came from right behind me, low and warm. Close enough that I could feel it more than hear it over the noise.

I turned. Drey was standing two steps up on the bleacher, hands in his jacket pockets, watching me with that specific look he had. The one I had learned to recognize over three years of friendship, the one that said he was thinking something he wasn't going to say out loud yet.

Drey was my best friend. We've been besties since sophomore year when he sat next to me in the worst chemistry class of my life and passed me the answers without me even asking. We had been inseparable since then, through family drama, failed classes and every embarrassing thing a person could survive. He knew everything about me.

Which was exactly why that look made my stomach do something uncomfortable.

"Hey," he said. "Can we talk for a second?"

"The match is still going."

"I know." He tilted his head slightly toward the corridor behind the bleachers. "Just for a second."

I looked at the ice. Leo was at the far end. Oh My God, the clock had twelve minutes left.

"Fine," I said, "but please… make it fast."

The corridor under the bleachers was a place that always felt different in the whole school. Quieter, dimmer, smelling like concrete, old sneakers and the kind of cold that settles into the floor. The chanting from above was muffled now, just vibration and rhythm.

I turned around to face Drey.

He was already looking at me, and whatever I had been expecting him to say… the actual words weren't it.

"I've been thinking about you all week," he said.

I blinked. "Drey…"

"I… I know what you're going to say." He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "We promise not to make the same mistake again, for like five times. But…”

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Because I'm losing my mind a little bit," he said, which was the most honest thing either of us had said out loud in months, and I hated him a little for it. "Because every time I see you I have to act like everything is normal and it's getting harder and I just… I'm extremely horny right now. My… my di… oh fuck. My dick is getting really hard." He exhaled. "I just need this one more time, that's it. Last time… I Promise."

I stared at him.

Drey was the closest person to me in my life. He was also, embarrassingly, the only person who had ever seen me completely fall apart and still shown up the next morning. He was funny, irritating and loyal in this quiet stubborn way that made everything worse because it was impossible to actually be angry at him for long.

We had made the same mistake five times. Five. And every single time we stood in this same kind of conversation, we promised each other it would be the last time we ever did that shit.

"This is not a good idea," I said.

"I know."

"We always say last time."

"I understand..."

"And then…"

"Nova." His voice dropped, and the way he said my name did the thing it always did, settled somewhere low in my chest like it belonged there. He took one step closer. "Please."

I was going to say no.

I was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent going to say no.

The single-stall restroom at the end of the athletics corridor was not a romantic location. Flickering light, cold tile, the distant sound of the crowd filtering through the ceiling. None of that mattered.

The second the lock clicked behind us Drey's hands were at my waist, pulling me in, and I forgot every sensible thought I'd had in the last ten minutes.

"We're idiots," I breathed against his mouth.

"Complete idiots," he agreed, and kissed me regardless.

There was no slow build with Drey. There never was. It went from zero to everything the second we stopped pretending we weren't going to do this, his hands moving like he already knew exactly where he wanted them, which he did, because he knew me better than I knew myself. Which was the whole problem.

"Drey… Uhhrr… Oh my gosh… be gentle and qui… quick.”

"I've got you," he murmured, low against my ear, and my brain made the executive decision to stop arguing.

The crowd above us was so noisy — someone scored, boots shaking the ceiling… and neither of us cared. Too spicy to even care about the noise.

But honestly… I really enjoyed it.

Then the door opened.

I don't know who was more shocked… me or the stranger standing in the doorway.

He was young, not a student, dressed too neatly for anyone who belonged in a school hallway. He went completely still… so did I, and for one long terrible second… We just looked at each other.

Then he stepped back, let the door swing shut, and was gone.

"What was…" Drey started.

"Doesn't matter," I said, because I needed it to not matter. "He's gone."

Drey looked at the door, then looked back at me.

Then we continue fucking each other.

Afterward we stood on opposite sides of the small room while I fixed my hair and refused to look at him, he leaned against the wall looking annoyingly calm about everything.

"So," he said.

"Don't."

"Last time," he said, and there was something in his voice that was so gentle. "I mean it this time, Ivy. This is it. We go back to normal. Best friends, I promise.”

I looked into his eyes.

"Best friends," I repeated. "Brother and sister energy. Done. Finished. Never again."

"Agreed."

"Good."

We shook on it. It was the most absurd thing we had ever done, it felt necessary, like a ceremony. Official.

I smoothed my jacket, picked up my bag, and walked back out into the corridor with my head high.

Oh my God, I had to give Leo the letter. Okay… I still had time.

The match had ended before I even got there. The hallways were filling up fast, everyone was loud and buzzing from the win, and by the time I got back to the bleachers… Priya was already looking at me with the expression of someone who had questions she was too polite to ask yet.

"Where did you go?"

"Bathroom," I said. "Did we win?"

"Obviously. Rhys scored twice…" She paused. "Leo had a good game too."

Right. Leo. The letter. I still had it in my jacket pocket, slightly crumpled now, but intact. I could still do this.

"I'll see you in class," I told Priya, and went to find him.

Ms. Patterson called us back before I made it ten steps.

"All students back to homeroom, please! Department head announcement, let's go!"

Around me everyone started moving, groaning, turning back toward the building. I stood there for one second of pure frustration before I gave up and followed.

The letter stayed in my pocket.

The classroom was already half full when I got there, people dropping into seats, pulling out phones and generally behaving like it was the end of the world that we'd been pulled from the post-match chaos. I slid into my seat next to Priya, and she gave me a sympathetic look.

Ms. Patterson came in looking pleased about something, which was unusual enough to actually get people's attention.

"Settle down, everyone. I have an announcement." She paused for effect the way teachers do when they think what they're about to say is more exciting than it is. "As of today, we have a new faculty member joining us. He'll be taking over AP Literature and assisting with the senior writing seminar. Please make him feel welcome."

The door opened.

He walked in as if he belonged here, which was irritating because he looked about four years older than half the people in the room. Dark jacket, clean cut, the kind of quiet composure that made you look twice. He wrote his name on the board in a very clear letter.

MR. VANCE.

"Good afternoon," he said, and his voice was so calm, except that it wasn't normal at all because I recognized it.

I recognized him.

The corridor. The restroom. The door swinging open. Those eyes met mine for one long, terrible second before he backed away.

He was standing at the front of my classroom.

His gaze moved across the room in that easy way teachers do on the first day, taking stock… then it landed on me, and something shifted in his expression.

He recognized me too.

I stopped breathing.

"I think this is going to be a very interesting semester," Mr. Vance said, with the smallest, most infuriating hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

The room around me kept moving but I sat completely still, my letter crumpled in my pocket, my best friend three rows behind me, and my new teacher looking at me like he already knew every secret I had.

What… In the entire… World.

I'm Cooked already.