Page 107 of The Play Maker

“Damage?” I echo.

She points at the heap of discarded outfits on my bed. “That.”

Isabella walks over to my open closet and hums under her breath. “Okay, so, do you want to be casual, or cute, or a mixture of both?”

I lift my hair off my neck, suddenly too hot. “I don’t know? He didn’t say where we’re going.”

“Vague men,” Aurora mutters, shaking her head. “Hate them.”

“Who’s the guy?” Isabella asks without looking back, already pulling out a dress I forgot I owned.

My hands tug at the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “It’s… Austin.”

They both freeze.

Aurora straightens. “I’m sorry. Austin?”

Isabella turns, holding the hanger mid-air. “AustinAustin?”

I nod.

“As in Rhodes?” Aurora asks. “Center for the hockey team, tall, loud, annoying, dimples?”

“That’s the one,” I mutter.

Isabella blinks. “I didn’t know he went on dates.”

“He doesn’t.” I pause. “It’s not… It’s not a date. Not really.”

They wait.

I suck in a breath. “He kissed me.”

Their eyes widen in shock, mimicking what I feel.

“It was a misunderstanding,” I’m quick to add.

Isabella’s eyebrows lift. “A misunderstanding?” she repeats.

I nod, sitting down on my bed, pulling Waddles into my lap. “He didn’t mean to kiss me,” I explain. “He was just happy about passing his test, and…” I trail off, blowing out a breath, because I don’t even know how to explain it myself. “He just feels bad, and wants to make it up to me.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Aurora leans forward, brows pulled together. “Wait. He kissed you, and now he wants to take you out to apologize for the kiss?”

“Yep.”

I don’t mention that it was my first kiss. The look on Austin’s face afterward was enough. I don’t need them feeling sorry for me, too.

“Has he kissed you before that?” Aurora asks. “Or, like… flirted with you?”

I shift on the bed, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. I think about the way he smiled at me that night we watched the movie in my dorm, how his arm slid around mine like it was no big deal. The way he leaned in at the rink, bracing his arms on either side of me, how his gaze always seemed to dip to my lips.

But maybe none of that meant anything. Maybe I imagined all of it.

He likes someone else.

I shake my head. “No. This was… just an accident.”