Page 35 of Scoring Chances
She looks up at me. All playfulness gone from her eyes. “Summer will end, Joshua… eventually.”
She turns back to the french toast and I watch as she dips the bread into the mixture and sets them on the skillet.
I hate how right she is. I also refuse to dwell on it right now.
“I’ll go tell the others,” I say, grabbing my mug.
“Tell the others what?” Keelan says walking into the kitchen shirtless and sweaty.
“What were you doing?”
He snatches the kitchen towel off the stove and wipes his face, breathless when he says, “Running. Why?”
“You hate running.”
“Only when I’m forced to do it instead of playing hockey,” he reaches into the fridge for a bottle of cold water and gulps down half of it.
“Well, shower up. We’re going to the beach.”
He sets the bottle down. “We?”
I nod. “It’s my last summer with you guys. I need to enjoy it while I can. Before you have a picture of my face with a target on it when I’m playing against you next season.”
Cassidy drops a whisk on the floor and when she does, she bends down to pick it up, knocking the bowl of french toast mixture–the contents dumping right on her.
“Shit,” Keelan says, quickly moving to help clean the mess.
“You okay there, Princess?” I lift the bowl and she straightens looking up at me.
“I’m fine.” She takes the bowl out of my hand. “I’ll clean this up."
“I’ll clean it up,” Keelan says. “Go shower. You got that stuff all over your hair.”
She sets the bowl down and nods. Not even looking at me before she walks out of the kitchen.
Keelan stands and turns the stove off.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask him.
“Did she know you were leaving?” Keelan asks, bending to clean up the mess on the floor. He looks up at me and quirks a brow.
“No. But she knows I only hired her for six weeks.”
“And God forbid she might actually like you and hope she’d have more time,” he says sarcastically.
“You think she likes me?” I look out toward the stairs she just went up.
He shakes his head. “I know you’re immune to matters of the heart… so I’ll clue you in. She likes you, Hicks. So if you ask me, I’d let her down easily. Don’t do anything that might show her your interested in more, if you’re not.”
“Like?”
“Like sneaking off and dancing under the moonlight,” he deadpans. “Mixed signals.”
“I was teaching her how to dance. She wanted me to.”
He tosses the sloppy towel into the sink and leans back on it, propped up by both his hands. “Just be clear with her, Hicks. She’s a sweet girl. She doesn’t deserve your turn and burns.”
“Turn and burns?” I cross my arms over my chest.