Page 13 of All That Glitters

“It’s fine, I guess. But there’s nothing you can do to help. I made a mistake, a big one, and she used it as a reason to put distance between us after a … moment.”

“That explanation is clear as mud, but as long as you didn’t cheat on her, I’ll help you get her back.”

My head rears back, almost hitting the wall behind the couch.

“First, we’ve never dated. Second, if we did, I would never cheat on her. I love her.”

The words come as easy as breathing. Marigold is my person. I know it the same way I know my name. It was taught to me—though I can’t pinpoint when or where—and it’s so ingrained in my soul that when I hear her name I turn as if it’s my own.

“So you’ve never dated her, but you love her, and she hates you.” Nash nods. “You weren’t kidding about this being complicated.”

I breathe in the floral steam of my tea. It doesn’t calm me as well as I hoped it would.

“I might explain more one day, but tonight I need to sleep,” I say and push myself up off of the couch.

“All right. See you tomorrow.”

I trudge to my room, grateful that Nash didn’t push me more. As tired as I am, I might have said too much. If he knew the exact circumstances, he’d be more motivated than ever to push Marigold and I to each other. And I don’t want that. If Marigold ever lets me get close to her again, I want it to be because she chose to, not because one of my friends played matchmaker.

My mug clinks onto my bedside table next to an ever-present stack of books. At the bottom of the stack is a paperback that makes my heart constrict. My annotated and tabbed copy of Julius Caesar holds up the rest of my current reads. After our falling out, I read it in hopes that she would call or text or show up at my house. As if there was some string that tied the pages of her copy to mine, and she’d know I was reading it for her.

I pull my journal off the top of the stack and slide the pen out of the loop on the side. Though I’m a writer, I was never big on journaling until after my friendship with Marigold ended. Now, I write daily, if not more than once. After I fill a page, I set it back down and pick up my tea again, then lean against my headboard. I should change, but all I want to do is sit on my bed until my eyes get too tired to stay open.

Half a cup of tea later, my wish comes true. I feel my eyes start to droop, so I set my mug aside and slide beneath my comforter.

I fall asleep staring at the spine of Julius Caesar, wondering if my betrayal hurt Marigold as badly as Brutus hurt Caesar.

Chapter seven

Strangers

Marigold Belmore

I wish I could say I hadn’t missed coming to hockey games. The entire experience is associated with Jameson in my memory, so even if I went to a game he didn’t play in, everything would remind me of him. Bundling up in an oversized sweatshirt, sitting near the glass, drinking a hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. All of it is intertwined with him.

The hot cocoa burns my tongue a little as I take a sip, and I wince. Concession-stand hot cocoa is just powder and boiling water, emphasis on the boiling part.

“You said this was the best hot cocoa you’ve ever had,” Jasmine says from next to me, her nose scrunched up. “Is it the only hot chocolate you’ve ever had?”

I laugh a little. “I guess nostalgia colors my taste buds.”

Jasmine nods emphatically. Her boyfriend, Shepherd, chuckles from the other side of her.

“I like it. Reminds me of football games when I was a kid,” he comments.

“Then you can have mine,” Jasmine says, passing it off to him so he’s got one in each hand. Shepherd shrugs and takes another sip.

A loud smack has me turning my head toward the ice. Nash grins at me from behind the glass.

“Fancy seeing you here, Red.”

I roll my eyes and hold up my notebook. “I’m here for the paper.”

He gestures toward the camera hanging from my neck with his hockey stick. I borrowed it from the newsroom stock to take photos tonight.

“Keep that lens trained on me. I’m the only one worth watching out here.”

As he’s talking, another one of the guys skating by must overhear him because they smack him on the back of his helmet as they pass. I snort. Jasmine and Shepherd laugh beside me.