Page 37 of All That Glitters

As per usual lately, I’ve come up short in another area. It’ll be my downfall eventually, but until then, I’ll keep going. I have no other choice.

Chapter eighteen

Featherlight

Jameson Sinclair

I don’t regret kissing Marigold. I could never regret the best night of my life. But everything after? I wish I could go back in time and change every decision from the moment we pulled apart.

I should have told her I loved her.

Ice sprays as I turn fast and push off to skate to the opposite side of the rink.

When she made me promise not to talk about it, I should have refused.

My knee aches as I force myself to go faster, pushing my body to its limit.

I should have told my parents no to the internship. Or at least talked to Goldie about it.

I suck in air, my chest heaving as I do lap after lap. Punishing my body for the state of my mind.

I should—

“—have known you’d be here.” A voice finishes off the sentence in my head.

Goldie’s voice. My head snaps to the side. I barely have the capacity to stop before hitting the wall. I blink, thinking she’s some kind of cortisol-induced mirage. When she doesn’t disappear from the player’s bench, I skate over to her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, the question coming out gruffer than I intended.

I take off my helmet and rake a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. My whole body is drenched.

She raises a brow. “We were supposed to meet to talk about the next article.”

I tip my head back. How did I forget that?

“I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. “I must have mixed up the days.”

Marigold eyes me like she doesn’t quite believe me, but she doesn’t say anything. Ever since the party on Saturday, she’s been distant. It’s now Tuesday, and we’re in a time crunch to get the next article done, so I guess that’s why she’s breaking her silence.

“Do you have time to work on it now?”

I nod. “Yeah, let me run through the shower real quick, and then we can meet. Are you hungry?” I ask her.

The way her eyes drop to the ground makes me think she is but doesn’t want to say so.

“Because I’m starving,” I add. “There’s a diner a block away called Junction. It doesn't beat Kimmy’s, but it’s pretty good.”

Kimmy’s Hometown Diner is where we used to go in high school to get ice cream floats. It’s a thirty-minute drive without traffic to get there, though, so not the best choice when I’m already late to our meeting.

“Okay, I can go grab a booth while you shower,” she offers.

I give her a small smile. “Thanks. If you want, you can go ahead and order for me. They have a lot of the same stuff as Kimmy’s.”

Her expression turns apprehensive, but she doesn’t say anything else. I skate over to the tunnel and head into the locker room to clean up. Everyone is already gone from practice, so it’s silent. I’m grateful for the time alone, though it does give my thoughts the microphone. There are times I wish I could leave the labyrinth of ruminating I spend my days in, but if I did, I’d lose Marigold altogether. Because the only way out would be to try to forget about her. Not that I’m capable of doing that anyway.

I make sure my shower is quick, even though my sore muscles wish for longer beneath the hot water. Then I get dressed and head to the diner. Once I arrive, I enter the train-themed restaurant and search the place for Marigold. I smile when I note her booth choice. It’s in the far corner, next to a window, just like our spot at Kimmy’s. Though this one won’t have our names doodled in silver Sharpie on the bottom of the table.

She looks up as I approach. Her brow is slightly pinched. I wonder if she’s thinking of the past, too.