Page 22

WILLOW

T he last few weeks have been...weird. Finals ended in a blur, and winter break has mostly been a mix of sleeping too much, feeling way too much, and pretending everything’s totally fine.

I’ve barely left the house and don’t feel an ounce of guilt about it.

My mom says it’s normal burnout. I say it’s what happens when your brain doesn’t come with an off switch.

Now I’m at the airport, about to fly to Puerto Rico with a bunch of people I don’t really know. The only thing that’s making me nervous other than the trip itself is the fact that I’m going to be in close proximity to Blaise Dalton without my brother or any of his hockey teammates to be a buffer.

“Are you sure you didn’t forget anything?”

While I’m grateful my mother’s question brought my thoughts back to present day, I roll my eyes because I can’t help it.

It’s the fifth time I’ve been asked this question and my answer still hasn’t changed.

"Mom, I triple-checked everything. And if I somehow forgot something, they have stores in Puerto Rico. Plus we’re already at the airport.

There isn’t much I can do about it now."

She gives me a look. "I'm just making sure you're prepared, Wills."

"I know." I soften my tone. "But I've got this. Promise. You don’t need to worry.

" I lean down to hug her and inhale her favorite perfume. For all my eye-rolling, I'm going to miss her. This is our prepping for what it’s going to be like when I’m gone this summer due to my internship in New York City.

“Moms always worry, but I’m so proud of you for doing this.”

“I’m proud of me too.” And that wasn’t a lie.

"Text me when you land," she says into my hair. "And every day after that."

"I will." I pull back and check the time on my phone. "I should go through security."

Dad steps forward then, having been silent during most of Mom's fussing over me. He wraps me in a quick, firm hug. "Have fun, kiddo. Learn something interesting."

"That's the plan." I smile up at him, grateful for his straightforward approach. If he became mushy over my departure, I knew it would be game over for me keeping any tears back.

With one last wave, I turn and head toward the TSA line. The morning crowd isn't terrible, but there's still a decent number of people waiting to go through security. I take my place at the end of the line and pull out my phone to distract myself.

Two unread texts from Ari:

Ari: Have the best time! Send pics of hot men!

Ari: But not to your mom. She'll worry.

I smile and type back a quick response.

Me: Just got to security. Will send pictures of buildings and food, not men.

I'm still smiling at my phone when I look around and spot Blaise. And he isn’t alone.

He's standing with an older woman a ways away from security. If I had to guess, she is probably in her seventies and has her silver hair pulled into an elegant twist. I’m thoroughly impressed with her posture because it’s impeccable.

Not to mention she looks stunning in her navy-blue tailored wool coat.

Blaise continues to lean down, giving her his full and undivided attention.

His entire demeanor has softened, the rigid control he normally maintains is nowhere to be found.

He's gesturing with his hands as he explains something to the woman in front of him. My first thought is that she must be his grandmother, but I don’t want to assume.

She reaches up and gently touches his cheek, her expression full of affection.

Blaise’s shoulders visibly relax under her touch and he smiles softly at her.

This is a Blaise I’ve never seen. Not the guarded hockey player, not the focused student, not even the guy who'd kissed me senseless years ago and then acted like I was invisible. This is someone open and it’s throwing me completely off balance and I’m sure it won’t be for the last time on this trip.

The woman says something else before she gives his arm a final squeeze and then gestures toward the security line. He says one last thing before he gives her a big hug, then turns and starts walking my way.

My heart jumps into my throat and I quickly look down at my phone.

It’s easier to pretend to be engrossed in Ari’s texts than to explain why I was staring him down.

The line moves, and I move forward with my eyes still glued to my phone screen.

I haven’t read a single word, but he doesn’t need to know that.

When I finally dare to glance up, he’s just a few people behind me in the line and I notice that his expression is back to its usual neutral mask. But I saw how he reacted to that woman. I saw that other side of him, and now I can't unsee it.

Instead of the usual irritation I feel when he’s around, a different emotion flickers to life: curiosity. And I hate myself for thinking that.

Thankfully, I get through security without incident. I do my best to quickly gather my belongings and head toward the gate, deliberately not looking to see if Blaise is following even though I know we will meet up eventually.

I find our gate easily enough. It’s less crowded than I expected, but then again, it’s early. Several students wearing Crestwood hats and sweatshirts already sit near the windows. I recognize a few faces from the orientation, but no one I know well.

I spot Professor Wallace and someone I assume is another professor, standing near the gate agent’s desk.

She has some papers in her hand, and I guess she’s trying to get us organized, which sounds like hell.

She’s wearing a button-down white shirt, jeans, a blazer, and sneakers.

I wait until she walks back over to the group of students to greet her.

“Good morning, Professor.”

Professor Wallace turns and a small, professional smile appears on her face when she sees me. "Willow, good morning. Glad you made it alright." She makes a note on the sheet of paper she has, and I assume it’s to mark me as being present.

"Traffic wasn't too bad, thankfully,” I reply, trying to sound more awake and upbeat than I feel.

"Excellent." She gestures with her head to the group of students. "Almost everyone's here, just waiting on a few stragglers. Find a seat, get comfortable. We should be boarding in about forty-five minutes."

“Thanks.” I nod and immediately start scanning for somewhere, well anywhere, that isn’t in the middle of the group.

My social battery is already circling the drain and we haven’t even boarded yet.

There’s a spot near a set of tables and chairs that allow you to hangout while charging your devices that looks inviting.

It’s not too close to everyone else, but close enough to hear if Professor Wallace decides to start yelling.

Looks perfect to me.

I sink into the seat, drop my backpack to the floor, and pull out my phone along with my EarPods.

If I’d forgotten them, I knew I would have been on my knees begging Mom to overnight them to me because I need them like I need a security blanket.

They help me shield myself from the general public because it’s the universal signal that I want to be left alone.

I pop them in my ears and find myself scrolling through post after post on social media.

I’ve come across a meme. An engagement announcement.

An ad for skincare I Googled once in 2022 and haven’t stopped seeing since.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not reading or absorbing a thing.

That’s cause my brain’s somewhere else entirely and it’s circling around Blaise Dalton.

He was…different with her.

Gentle. Calm. And not that he isn’t that way usually, but I could see that he treated her differently than everyone else. And it’s not that I’m jealous of how and why he acted this way, it’s just fascinating. Like whatever she said deserved his full attention, and he gave it without hesitation.

I look up and find the subject in question standing next to Professor Wallace. It looks like he also came through security unscathed.Good for him.

He's nodding at something Professor Wallace is saying and I can see that he’s back to being “on”. I quickly look away when his gaze starts to drift in my direction.

The last thing I need is for him to catch me staring.

I pull up my Spotify and hit play on a playlist I made specifically for this trip, but the music feels like background noise because my brain is so fucking loud.

It’s always like this. Many people think ADHD means I can’t focus, but really it’s that I’m focusing on everything .

It’s just not always on what I’m supposed to.

Like I’ll be listening to music, sure, but also thinking about how I forgot to reply to that email from three days ago, and whether I packed deodorant, and how I accidentally ghosted my therapist, and oh right, how Blaise looked soft for half a second and now my nervous system’s acting like it’s a national emergency.

It’s exhausting.

Like trying to organize your thoughts while someone’s throwing tennis balls at your head. Which are on fire.

I try a breathing exercise I saw on my feed a couple of days ago. In through the nose, hold, out through the?—

Nope. Just made me more aware of how dry my mouth is.

I open my notes app and start to type something, hell anything, to get out of my head. Maybe a rough idea for an article I can write when we get back to Crestwood, but I only get as far as “remember to” before my fingers stop moving.

Because now Blaise is sitting down two rows across from me. Not next to me. Not near enough to talk. But enough that I can see him in my peripheral vision if I tilt my head slightly.

And of course, the second I think that, I do tilt my head. Slightly.

He’s got his phone out and he’s not paying me any mind. I try to read his expression, to get a glimpse of what he might be thinking, but I end up with nothing.

And because the universe clearly wants me to die of embarrassment, he glances up from his phone.

This time I don’t look away fast enough.