Page 118 of Those Three Little Words
Penny:I look like a wreck.
Eli:I don’t care. Please, Penny?
I wait for a response, worried that she’s going to say no when my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call.
Thank. Fuck.
I accept the call and hold the phone out in front of me as Penny’s tear-soaked face appears on the screen.
“Hey,” she says with a sheepish smile. She’s lying on her bed, curled into her pillow, looking like she needs a goddamn hug.
“Hey.” I exhale harshly and then push my hand through my hair. “You’re probably sick of me asking, but how are you?”
“Better. I’m sorry I didn’t text or call. I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
I shake my head. “Nah, been waiting to hear from you. So, is everything okay with your parents?”
She nods. “My mom was going to stay the night with me, but I told her I was fine and she could go to the hotel with my dad. They just left.”
“How do they feel?”
“Honestly? Excited.” The lightest of smirks pulls at her lips. “After the shock of it all, they were very excited and already started talking about possibly finding a place in Vancouver so they can split their time between here and Minnesota. They want to be as helpful as possible. They understand your schedule and want to be a support to both of us.”
“Wow, that’s . . . that’s pretty awesome of them.”
“They also want to have dinner with you when you come back. I told them to wait until the playoffs are done.”
“No, I can have dinner when I get back from Washington. I’d like that, actually.”
“Are you sure? I know you have more important things to do—”
“Penny, you are the most important thing in my life right now. I’ll have dinner with them when I get back. That’s not a problem at all. I just ask that we do it at your place and order in or something. We’ll be disturbed too much if we go out, especially right in the middle of the playoffs.”
“I think they’d enjoy something more intimate.” She snuggles closer to her pillow. “Thank you.”
I lie back on my bed, holding my phone up. “It’s my pleasure.” I stare at her tear-stained eyes and say, “You look beautiful, Penny.”
“Oh my God, you’re sleep-deprived.”
I shake my head. “I’m not. You truly are. You look so real and so natural. You really are beautiful.”
“You’re going to make me cry again.”
“Well, we don’t want that. Tell me more about this farce you were running about sending flowers to yourself.”
She chuckles and then turns on her bed to the other side. “It’s what sheer panic will do to you. The number of lies I sputtered was astronomical.”
And just like that, we spend the next half hour laughing and talking about how she attempted to trick her parents when they first arrived. We laugh so hard together that tears spring to our eyes, and we’re both gasping for air. It’s the most real and honest conversation I’ve ever had, and every time she pushes her hair behind her ear or snuggles into her pillow, all I can think about is how I wished it was me she was resting on, or how I wish I was the one fixing her hair.
To put myself in that sort of frame of mind is a scary thought, but the more we talk, the more we hang out, and the more I realize that I wish things were different for the both of us because I like her.
I actually fucking like this girl.
* * *
The past fewdays have been one blow after the other. We ended up losing our first game, two to one. We looked lethargic and distracted out there, and our coach called us on it. When it came to our second game of the series, we ended up losing again, this time three to one. It was fucking painful.
None of us have our heads in the game. And all for different reasons.
