Page 54 of Icebound

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob. “What?”

I don’t know what to say. All I wanted was for her not to leave, but she should go. I’ll be able to breathe again once this girl’s gone, but I don’t want her thinking I’m mad at her.

“Thank you, Nina. For coming to the sponsorship event with me. I know you didn’t have to, and these past couple of years have been rough, so it means a lot.”

Part of me wants to tell her not to come to the event, but I don’t want to risk screwing anything up with Andrea. It’s not that big of a deal if I’m not on her arm, but I can’t bring myself to take back my invitation—even if people are judging the hell out of me for bringing a college student as my date.

“You’re welcome, but I’m going to head out. See you there.” She smiles, but it doesn’t make those cute half-moons appear under her eyes. Nina strides out the door like I just set the room on fire, leaving me in the ashes.

I stare down at Betty sucking her thumb. “You don’t think I’m an asshole, do you, baby girl?”

She starts crying, and by the time she stops three hours later, it feels like my ears are bleeding. Parenting might be tougher than I thought.

I blame that for the reason it took me so long to notice Nina left my favorite sweatshirt folded neatly by the door.

14

NINA

“You’re not wearing that to the event. It’s fancy.”

Gwen sits up on my mustard velvet comforter. Her fingers dance across her laptop so fast she risks chipping her beige nail polish. “You look like a seventies flower child, and you need to seem like an Upper East Side socialite if you’re going to be on Rhode Tremblay’s arm.”

“First of all,” I say, sharper than intended. “Rhode’s going to be on my arm.”

She shifts on my bed. “Why are you snapping at me? I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to help.”

“I’m not mad,” I counter, pacing my bedroom in my habitual pattern. Curtains. Desk. Closet. Curtains. Desk. Closet. “I’m just nervous. I want this to go well because the sponsorship’s important to him, and I don’t want to fuck it up by embarrassing a professional athlete.”

“How would you even do that?”

By losing control, fainting on the person Rhode’s trying to impress, making him hate me, and then I’ll be stuck thinking about that for the rest of my life.

Gwen wouldn’t understand since she never has to worry about passing out in crowded rooms. Instead of answering, I dig through my closet and pull out a vintage plaid skirt that screams, I-love-the-taste-of-oysters-and-caviar. “What about this? Does this make me look rich?”

Her emerald eyes flicker over the pale pink material. “Yes, but you aren’t meeting the princess of Morocco for tea. You need something sophisticated, but you also want to be a little sexy.”

“Sophisticated? I bought my overalls from a fortune teller who lived at a commune in some Utonian desert.”

“That’s not what you call a desert in Utah.”

I toss the skirt on my bed. “I don’t care. It’s what I call a desert in Utah.”

Gwen shuts her laptop, eyeing my trembling hands. “Okay, clearly, you’re nervous, but you don’t have time for this. He’s picking you up in twenty minutes, and you still need to do your hair.”

“I already did my hair, Gwendolyn,” I huff.

“Oh.” She scans the strands. “Well, it’s too late for highlights, so add some more curls, and put on some lipstick. Burgundy, not rose. That’s better with your skin tone, and fix your eyeliner. It looks like you did it in the middle of an earthquake.”

“That’s because my hands won’t stop shaking.”

“You’ll be fine. I think I have something in my closet for you.”

She strides out of my room like royalty, leaving me alone with my spinning thoughts. The idea of telling Rhode I’m sick crosses my mind, but it matters to me that he thinks I’m dependable because I’m finally in a place to be that for people.

Crowds might make me frazzled, but I refuse to hole up in a dark bedroom. So, I’m going, even though I couldn’t fall asleep last night. I stayed up researching Rhode’s hockey stats over the last half-decade, preparing myself for any career-related questions.

“Calm down, Nina,” I say to the girl in the mirror, watching a flush climb up her neck. “You’re not trapped at the bottom of the ocean in a submarine. It’s one night. You can talk to people.”