Page 81 of The Play Maker

But it doesn’t.

I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t even know what shelookslike.

This is insane.

I suck in a breath and push to my feet, muttering a quick sorry as I shimmy past someone’s dad holding a tray of nachos. A girl glares at me when I bump her elbow, but I barely register it. My mind’s somewhere else entirely.

I hit the concrete concourse behind the bleachers, the cooler air hitting my face. I pace a few steps, then stop, my thumb hovering over our text thread. I could message her again. Ask where she’s sitting. What she’s wearing. Who she’s with.

But what would I even say?

Hey, are you the girl with the puffer jacket and peanut M&Ms?

Yeah. No.

I exhale hard and let my head fall back against the cinderblock wall behind me. My heart’s still pounding. This whole thing is stupid. She told me not to look for her. I should respect that.

But I can’t stop thinking about it.

I can’t stop thinking abouther.

I don’t know who she is.

But I want to.

Badly.

My fingers tighten around my phone. My thoughts are a mess, spinning too fast, colliding into each other. I lean my head back against the wall, eyes closing for half a second, just trying tobreathe.

But then I hear footsteps and I glance up, freezing when I see Maisie.

She’s walking toward the exit, head tilted down slightly, one hand curled around the strap of her bag.

I push off the wall without thinking.

“Maisie?”

She startles slightly, her head lifting. She stops walking when her eyes lock on mine and blinks. “Oh. Hey.”

My brows knit as I step toward her. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says with a shake of her head. “I don’t even like hockey.”

I press a hand to my chest, mock wounded. “I kinda like you, so I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners.

“But seriously,” I ask, taking a few steps closer, “if you hate it… why are you here?”

Maisie’s mouth parts. Her gaze drops to her feet as her fingers twist the sleeve of her jacket. “I just… I wanted to support you.”

Something inside me stutters.

She looks up again. “I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. Watching them play and not being able to. I figured… maybe you’d need someone.”

I swallow hard. My chest does something weird. It tightens and lifts all at once.

Because she’s here.