Page 60 of Something to Prove

I rolled to safety and steered conversation to the Czerniak clan. I loved Ty’s stories.

He told me about the time his father had taped his broken cell phone and accidentally covered the speaker. His dad couldn’t figure out why no one could hear him on the line. And the epic prank Ty’s high school team played on their rivals—painting fingerling potatoes a suspicious shade of brown and sprinkling them on the ice.

“No!” I gasped.

“Yep. An overzealous visiting coach took the ‘threat’ seriously and the building had to be evacuated, which meant the game was delayed. Coach was pissed. We had to do a million laps as punishment, but man…totally worth it. My friends and I still laugh about the ‘potato incident.’ ” Ty used air quotes while I cackled like a loon.

Laughter died, and we were staring again.

Then his hands were in my hair, his mouth hovering above mine. The feel of his hard body and gentle touch sent shiversthrough me. At that moment, I wished the night would stretch and grow. I wished for something beyond a few stolen hours.

Something…more.

I was immediately annoyed with myself. This was fun, but it wasn’t real. And while I might be a little sad about a two weeks separation, the distance would be good for me.

There really was no distance, though. We texted every day, same as always. Ty shared everything from the goal he scored at his last game to what he ate for breakfast and his irritation at Coffee Cave for running out of croissants at eight a.m.

Ty:If I was in charge, that would never happen. Carbs matter, ffs.

Ty:I turned in my Lit paper. I worked on it all last night and I think maybe it doesn’t totally suck.

Ty:It’s quiet on campus. Not sure I like it.

Ty:I saw holiday M&M’s at the market today and thought of you. So I bought some. All red and green. I was going to share them, but…oops!

His stream-of-consciousness musings didn’t always require an immediate response, but my phone was glued to my hand and my sappy smile had become a permanent feature. My aunt noticed.

“Who’s the mystery man?” she singsonged.

“I…just a friend.”

“Mmhmm.”

No, I wasn’t fooling anyone—least of all myself. But I lived for these small glimpses into his everyday life. It was strange that a random sentence or two could make me feel more connected to him than ever.

Brady ate my leftovers. I’m going to have to hurt him. Also…it’s snowing.

Suspicious, I replied,You never have leftovers. It’s snowing here too.Photo attached.

Wow, it looks like you’re on the North Pole. My view.

Your penis. Really?

The thread devolved from there.

The following day:

Practice was brutal, Ty reported.Half the guys are mentally on vacation. Coach would blow a fuse if he knew Langley was throwing another party tonight. Don’t tell.

I sent a zipped-lips emoji.Another party?

Yep. Almost every night this week. His roommate is out of town and he’s celebrating.Three dancing dots appeared and disappeared before he finally wrote. Tell me about apples in Toronto.

I was relieved by the topic change. Langley’s parties made me nervous. I knew there were puck bunnies galore and people infinitely cooler than me in ways Ty could relate. Sporty ways.

Hello! Did you see my snow pic? We don’t have apples on the trees, but we have apple pie, apple cookies, apple cider.

Now you’re just bragging.