Page 68 of What We Knew Then
Once we’re sitting on my bed, a wave of nostalgia hits me—we haven’t done this in months. I didn’t know if we’d have a chance to do it again this year, considering I was supposed to be getting an apartment with Freddy.
Brinn must read my mind because she says, “Confession. Freddy called me.” She has a hand on her chest and is trying to hold back a gag. “I didn’t tell him anything. But he called from someone else’s phone, someone I like… fucking slimeball.”
It’s hard not to laugh at her strong and dramatic reaction. “What did he even say?”
Piper acts like she’s frozen in place, her eyes wide and fingers pressed into her temples. I love when she lets the dramatics pull through.
With a roll of her eyes, Brinn groans, “Oh, just your typical nonsense… Cora won’t call me back. Do you think she’s dating someone? Did I make a mistake?”
I cover my own mouth because I can only imagine what my ride or die friend told him. She’s had Freddy on her no list months before we broke up. She would support me, no matter if we were still together or not, but she loved to call him on his shit. They rarely got along, so it’s surprising that she’s the one he’d try to get information from.
Piper is laughing when she asks, “Oh god. What’d you say?!”
Brinn mimics a whiny Freddy and acts outs, “Cora won’t call me back.” She shifts her shoulders and says, “Good.” Back to being her version of Freddy. “Do you think she’s dating someone?” She answers herself, “I don’t know but she definitely should.” And then rounds it out with, “Did I make a mistake?” Sweet as pie, she croons, “No, you didn’t. Because dumping Cora is going to be one of the best things that happened to her, you dick.”
She fakes hanging up her phone and the three of us burst into a fit of laughter. One, Brinn is hilarious, but two, the situation is dire enough that he’d called her and that makes me feel some type of way.
I open my phone, scrolling to our texts. I show my screen to my friends. “He’s been texting me but it’s not even on my radar. The last time we talked was the night I got locked in the rink.”
Brinn finishes my sentence. “With Lane.”
Piper claps, cheering me on.
I know my face is hot, the blush hitting my cheeks as I think about that night. The bizarreness of it all. How it felt like Lane touching me was leaving a mark that would never fade. “Yes.”
Brinn continues, “Now, I think I should get some bonus points because I wanted nothing more to tell him you were too busy getting dicked down by the bad boy hockey transfer to text him back... and I didn’t.”
Piper nods. “Dicked down. Only you would say that.” She laughs and nudges Brinn.
“It’s accurate. Now, Cora, spill. Tell us everything.”
So, I do. I tell them about the first night at his apartment. Us working together before the team comes in for practices and how every minute we’re keeping our hands to ourselves is a win. The away game the other night where I let myself into his apartment—waiting for him to wake me up when he got home. And all the other random nights I've just found myself in his orbit.
“Wait, big bad Lane Maxwell calls you Peaches? And has you hooked on peach rings? This isn’t real.” Brinn’s hand pushes into her chest and she leans back, like she’s waiting for the punchline.
“He’s not bad—” I try to explain.
Piper jumps in. "Even I’ve heard about Lane’s reputation and I wasn’t even here when he showed up.”
“The man makes sure I check the boxes in my planner. I’m not one hundred percent clear about what happened, but I'm not buying it,” I defend. “Or, there’s more to the story than any of us know.”
My friends nod alongside me.
“Well, the only bad thing we're sure about so far is that he’s taking up your free time... which is like a precious gem at this point,” Brinn jokes.
I appreciate the pivot. Brinn is sort of waving the white flag.
“Speaking of free time. You’re still coming to Midnight Madness, right?” Piper asks the two of us. This is the party after a quick event prior to the basketball season starting. Historically, it’s been open to all the sports that are in season, and their plus ones—everyone goes to the event in gym and then to the basketball house for the party. It’s their version of the hockey team’s scavenger hunt and bonfire.
“Fuck, I don’t know. I didn’t even think about it.” Normally, this is something I’d look forward to—Freddy’s season. But now, not so much.
“We have to go. It’s our last one where we’ll all be together,” Brinn whines.
“If you’re worried about Freddy, it’ll be crawling with people. And if any of the hockey guys are there, you know they’ll have your back. Freddy’s not dumb enough to pushthatboundary.” Piper plays with the strands of her long blond hair.
She’s right. Even without Lane, the hockey team leaned Team Cora after the breakup. It didn’t take much for them to understand what I’d been through—how quickly everything fell apart. Whether it’s because we’re friends or because I’m the coach’s daughter, they don’t hesitate to be in my corner.
I stand, needing to move, and say, “I’m not worried about Freddy.”
