Extraits

“Just been . . . a hell of week. Man, I hate holidays.”

“Word. I loved ’em as a kid, but the last few years, man, they cured me fast.” I didn’t unload all my crap on him, but I got the pain in his eyes. He turned toward me, and for a second I could have sworn he felt the heat between us, felt the strange electricity, might even be leaning into my hand. But then he blinked and shrugged it off, and the moment disintegrated, as fragile as the butterfly on his cupcake.

“I’ve always hated them. Shuttling between my folks . . . my brother and I were always in the middle. And now . . .” He shook his head, light catching all the different shades of brown in his shaggy hair. “This week just sucks.”

“You need to get out.”

“Vic, I told you—”

“Not like that. I got Blazers tickets for next week. Got them from Cliff, so they’re likely good seats. You should come with me. Get your mind off your sucky week.” I tried to sound a lot more confident than I felt.

But Robin lifted an eyebrow, seeing right through me as usual. “Are you asking me out?”

“Nah.” I waved the idea away. His skeptical look already told me to let that hope go. “Just a couple of guys. Catching the game. Probably do us both some good.”

“You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. Cliff doesn’t want the tickets wasted.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said softly. “I don’t want . . . don’t want to mislead you. I meant what I said yesterday. I’m done dating.”

“Not much for it myself.” I managed to deliver the half-truth with a straight face. The infrequent hookups I’d had certainly didn’t qualify as dating, and telling Robin my stance had recently changed wouldn’t serve any good purpose.

“Okay. I’ll go. But it’s not a date. I’m gonna pay Cliff for the ticket.”

“Fair enough.”

Didn’t matter if it wasn’t a date. I knew I’d be counting down the hours until next Wednesday.