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You need to look beyond the obvious and offer some insight!Ouch.

Brilliant. Why aren’t you doing more of this?This one makes me smile.

It goes on like that, a few drops of encouragement in a sea of negativity. But I get to the end, the section labeled “Teacher Comments,” and I realize this is what Wythe was talking about:

Interesting points here and there but not true to what was assigned. It’s obvious you were bored with 90% of this topic, because 90% of your writing is stale and recycled and 10% is remarkably insightful. You have two options if you care to succeed: Learn how to put effort into things you don’t care for or find what you’re good at (EVERYONE is good at something) and exploit it.

The words sting, but something wells up underneath, something unfamiliar that makes my heart beat a little faster. All the way home, that something battles against my irritation with Wythe, and I keep wishing irritation would win.

But long after I’ve cooked a batch of from-scratch pork gyoza, eaten half as my dinner, and packed away the rest for Lorenzo, Wythe’s words are stuck in me like a splinter, the little jitter of excitement right there with them.

I go to my desk and pull out a sticky note. I don’t have to look back at my essay to remember her words as I scribble them on the hot-pink square of paper:Find what you’re good at (EVERYONE is good at something) and exploit it.

I press the note to the wall mirror next to my bed alongside the dozens of long-forgotten neon scraps of paper, thinking maybe I’ll do more with this one than just let it fade in the sun.

SIXTEEN

ruby

Lorenzo looks halfdead when I push open the door to his apartment on Friday, grocery bags heavy in my arms. His eyes are glazed, staring at the TV from his new home on the couch.

“Chef Ruby in the house.”

Lorenzo heaves himself off the couch with a grunt. “Let me help.”

“I already hauled these bags five blocks. I can make it to the kitchen. You rest.”

“I’m not an invalid, Ruby, I can lift a grocery bag. Give them to me.” He scowls and I can’t help but notice the way his lips pout a tiny bit. Ever since the kiss, I’ve developed an uncomfortable fixation on his mouth. I could have picked his lips out of a lineup at any point in the last decade, that’s how well I knew them. But now that I’ve felt them against my own, I can’t help falling into the sultry memory of their taste every time I look at him. It’s not exactly strengthening my resolve to never kiss him again.

Lorenzo, for his part, doesn’t even look at me as he waits impatiently for the bags. If he’s also seeing me in a new light, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.

“Wow, service with a smile.” I tug my gaze from his lips and push the bags into his free arm. “Thanks for the help, Mr. Grinch.” It’s been more than two weeks since surgery, and I’ve never seen Lorenzo grouchier. I’m fresh out of ideas for putting a smile on his face, but I’m determined to throw myself fully into the role of best friend—very platonic best friend. “So what did you do today?”

“Not shit.” Lorenzo starts emptying the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. “Cash and Reeve came over for a while. I did my exercises. Tried to get Dr. Halpert on the phone, but I guess surgery ran long and he never got back to me.”

“You’re still bothering him about when you can get back in the gym?” I gather the cold items and carry them to the fridge.

“I’m not bothering him, I just want him to understand where I am physically. I’ve been feeling good. Matter of fact, all the couch time I’m logging is setting me back. The more I sit around, the more tired and gross I feel. I swear I can feel my muscles wasting away.”

I steal a glance at his good arm as he lifts a case of sparkling waters, noting that the swell of his biceps would beg to differ. “You have time, Lorenzo. Your coaches said it, Dr. Halpert said it. Lots of pro players have been where you are.”

He laughs without humor. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Ruby.”

I stop putting away groceries to look at him. He makes me wait but eventually meets my gaze. “You’re going to get an invite to the Combine. And you’re going to be there working at full strength and you’re going to blow them away. When have you not made things happen for yourself?”

Lorenzo just lets out a heavy sigh and turns away to put the drinks in the fridge. Seeing him hopeless makes my heart ache.

I consider him. “I know what you need.”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“Like I’d cook for your grumpy ass? No. You’re coming back home with me. To the lake.”

He turns around, his expression completely devoid of enthusiasm. “Why would we go home?”

“Because I have to give my dad’s precious cats their medication.”

He makes a face. “Since when?”