“I hope so. I can’t let these guys down.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t let them down tonight. If anything, they let you down. Denver never should have spent so much time in the defensive zone. Tell your boys to get off their asses and be more aggressive next game.”
That earns me a laugh, and something tight in me loosens. “Yeah, I’ll tell them.” There’s a pause, and then quieter, “Can I FaceTime you?”
I try to remember if I even brushed my hair today. “Um, sure. Yeah. Let me head to my room so I don’t keep Lola up.”
“Thanks, Rosebud.”
Hurrying into my room, I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror that hangs over my dresser and run my fingers through my hair. I’m not wearing any makeup, but at least that means I’m not rocking raccoon eyes or something. When I’m satisfied that I look at least presentable, I settle myself on my bed, back to the headboard, and tap the button to switch to a video call.
“Hi,” Sebastian says with a gentle smile when his face fills the screen.
“Hey.”
His eyes bounce around as he scans my face. “Thanks for this. I’m a little tired. It’ll be easier to focus on your words if I can see you too.”
“Of course,” I say, my cheeks turning pink enough that they’re visible even in the low light of my bedroom. “When is your flight home?”
“Ten in the morning.”
“That’s not too bad.”
He smiles. “No, it’s not. And we’ll probably all sleep on the plane.” Sebastian clears his throat, making his Adam’s apple bob. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
Thank goodness he’s not here, because if he was, he’d probably be able to hear the way my heart pounds in my chest. “Sure. Of course.”
“I was thinking we could go to the farmer’s market to buy some stuff for lunch, then go eat it at the sculpture garden? I can pick you up as soon as we get back.” He looks so earnest, I have to remind myself he’s just my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.
It’s more difficult than it should be.
“That sounds fun,” I say, working hard to keep my voice steady.
The way his dark brown eyes light up makes my stomach do another flip. “Good.”
We lapse into silence, staring at each other for a few beats before Sebastian sucks in a deep breath, lifts his chin, and hesitates a moment before he opens his mouth.
“Indie, can we talk about what happened that summer?” He doesn’t need to specify which summer he’s referring to. I know exactly what he wants to talk about.
The flip my stomach does this time is decidedly unpleasant, unlike the last couple. I shift on my bed and glance away from him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We need to talk about it at some point,” he says gently but firmly. “You know we do.”
I’d rather not. “It’s in the past.”
“Is it?”
“Yep. It’s all good, Bash. We don’t need to rehash all that.” My voice sounds strained even to my own ears, so I’m not surprised when Sebastian’s face pulls tight with a frown.
“Indie, I think you?—”
“What time do you think you’ll pick me up?” I say loudly, desperate to change the subject. I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not after the conversation I had with my mom this morning and the pressure I’m feeling from my publisher. It’s too much.
Everyone wants something from me, and I can’t give Sebastian what he needs. I simply cannot bullshit my way through assuring him he didn’t hurt me when he chose that pretty blonde girl over me. Not right now.
“Indie, come on. We need to talk about?—”
“We really don’t. What kind of stuff do they sell at the farmer’s market?”