Chapter Fourteen

“I’m not sure I’ve ever watched an indoor soccer game,” Kashvi says as we shuffle along the narrow metal bleachers that line one wall of the indoor sports complex where Andrew is playing. Since it’s the last week of February in Ohio, it’s way too cold to play outside. This place is huge and there aren’t many spectators other than parents.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper. “I would be miserable without you.”

We all sit down, and Dad leans forward to talk to Kashvi and me. “Isn’t this fun!”

We nod politely, although nothing has happened yet that would make it fun. “Thanks for letting me tag along tonight,” Kashvi says.

“Of course,” Mom replies. “We’re thrilled that both of our kids are making friends here. We really appreciate you taking Quinn into your group.”

Her wording is mildly insulting, like I’m some tragic case that needs rescuing, but Mom isn’t entirely wrong. If Kashvi hadn’t invited me to their game when we first met, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now.

“Which number is your brother?” Kashvi asks.

“No idea,” I whisper. “But they’re wearing green jerseys. Just cheer when that team scores and we should be covered.”

A moment later Dad stands and bellows, “Let’s go, Andrew!” like this is the World Cup instead of a sparsely attended match in the Midwest.

Andrew swivels and waves warily at Dad. I see he’s number11—good to know, I guess. He spots Kashvi and his whole body perks up a bit as he waves more enthusiastically.

Her eyes widen and she looks over her shoulder like he’s waving at someone else. When she realizes he isn’t, she waves back hesitantly.

“Well, I guess we know which number he’s wearing now,” she says.

The game begins and we spend the first half dutifully cheering on Andrew and chatting with my parents. They seem determined to include Kashvi as much as possible, which means asking her a thousand questions. It’s embarrassing, but I also learn things about her parents and family that I never thought to ask before.

Andrew’s team scores another goal and Kashvi shoots up to her feet to cheer, along with my parents. I stand before Mom can glare at me for being a bad sport.

“Wow, that was a great play,” Kashvi says, and gives a littleyell.

“Yeah.”

“Your brother must be really good if he’s playing forward.”

I study her profile. How does she know what position he plays? I don’t know that, and I’ve watched countless games over the years. I follow her gaze back down to the field and try to really pay attention. It still looks like a lot of guys running randomly around a field, but Andrew does stand out from the others. I bet he’ll make varsity next fall.

Andrew kicks toward the goal, but another player is quick to knock it away. Kashvi groans and sits back down.

“I didn’t realize you were so into soccer.”

She shrugs. “My dad is a huge fan. I grew up watching it on TV.”

By the time the second half begins, it’s hard for me to focus on the game. Especially when Andrew’s team is up 5–0. Kashvi hands me a small bag of peanuts Mom brought with her. “Do you come to a lot of these games?” she asks. “This one is—”

“Boring?”

She laughs. “I was going to say a blowout, but sure.”

My phone vibrates and I pull it out to see a text from Logan. It’s not to the group chat, but just to me. My stomach jumps into my throat.

Logan: I was going through my dice tonight and thought you might be able to do something with these.

He sends a photo of a set of seven glittery green dice. My heart swells at the same time that I laugh.

Quinn: Those are some sparkly dice you have there.

Logan: They were for a character, don’t ask.

I stare down at the photo, trying to puzzle out what to make of it. He made it clear that he left Kashvi’s early because of me, but now he’s texting me? Although I guess texting is very different from hanging out together. Or, who knows, maybe he just really doesn’t want these dice anymore.

“Those are cute,” Kashvi says, glancing at the photo on my phone.

I startle and sit up straight. “Logan just sent this. It sounds like he wants to give them to me.”

“He does?” Kashvi’s eyebrows furrow. “He’s always been weirdly protective over his dice. Almost as bad as Mark.”

“He noticed the bracelets we made—our awesome bracelets, that is”—I jangle the bracelets on my wrist for effect—“and must have decided to help out the cause.”

“Huh…well, that’s cool of him because those are beautiful dice.” She checks her phone. “I’m surprised he didn’t text us both about it, though.”

There’s a flash of something in her expression. Maybe it’s surprise. Or could it be jealousy? Immediately the gnawing hurt over losing Paige returns. Even before my infamous bad date with Caden, Paige was always bothered if I talked too much to Caden at the games or had jokes or conversations with the others that she wasn’t part of. I didn’t mind it at the time. It almost made me feel special, as if Paige considered me such a good friend that she couldn’t share me with anyone. Of course, looking back, I see that it was completely one-sided. She was happy to chat and flirt without including me; I just wasn’t supposed to do the same. Then I went out with Caden and all hell broke loose.

I glance at the field and slide my hands under my thighs so I don’t fidget. Could Kashvi be similar? Maybe I should be a little more cautious with what I tell her. I really like her—I want us to be the kind of friends who can share all the details of our lives without judgment—but I’m also scared. I’m not sure if we’re there yet.

My phone vibrates, but I don’t look at it on the off chance that Logan has texted again.

“Mark texted us,” Kashvi tells me, and holds up her phone. “He’s hanging out tonight at the diner where Sloane works. It would be fun for you to see it. Do you think your parents would let us go after the game?”

“Maybe?” My parents usually don’t like us to be out late, but a small-town diner isn’t exactly worrisome.

“Hey, Mom?” I touch her arm to get her attention—she’s so transfixed by the game that I’m not sure she can hear me.

“Hmm?”

“Would it be okay if Kashvi and I meet our other friends after the game?”

It takes a second for the words to sink in, but she frowns and turns to me. “Where?”

“The Elm Street Diner,” Kashvi jumps in. “Our friend Sloane works there, and it’s always so quiet we use it like a library to get work done.”

She’s laying it on a bit thick in my opinion, but Mom’s frown fades. “That sounds like it could be fun for y—”

“ Yes! Go, Andrew!” Dad cheers next to her. Mom’s attention flips back to the game, and Kashvi gives me a thumbs-up.

“I’ll text the others to see if they can make it. Sanjiv will come for sure. He never turns down a hangout or food.”

“Well done. You’re a parent-whisperer.”

“I have overprotective parents, so I have lots of practice,” she replies. “Why do you think we have all our games at my house?”

I laugh and clap for Andrew even though I’m not sure what’s happening in the game. Despite my worries before, I’m glad I asked her to come with me. The best way to become better friends is by doing stuff like this together. And now I’ll get a chance to hang out with the others outside of the game too. Well, everyone except for Logan, since I’m sure he’ll come up with an excuse to avoid me.

I try to keep my thoughts from him, but my self-control is quickly slipping where Logan is concerned. I’d like to truly be friends with him, but in order for that to happen, I need to banish any other thoughts about him. It’s hard to forget the way my pulse sped when he touched my wrist after the game on Saturday, or how I was tempted to kiss him for a moment in the attic. That’s not how friends think or act around each other.

Beside me, Mom jumps to her feet, and Kashvi yells on my other side. I’m so out of it that I’ve completely lost track of what’s happening around me. I stand and cheer without knowing why.

“What happened?” I ask Kashvi.

“Your brother just scored another goal with only a minute left.” She glances at me with a smirk. “You’re really not into soccer, huh?”

“I guess not.”

Better to agree than explain where my thoughts have truly been focused.

After the game, Kashvi drives us to the diner. I shove my hands into my pockets to keep them warm and take in the sight. It’s not the nicest place I’ve ever seen. The yellow building has a rusted metal awning and a mostly empty parking lot that’s so run-down that it’s hard not to hit a pothole. Even the Open sign is flickering, as if the diner isn’t sure how much longer it can hold on. I raise an eyebrow at Kashvi.

She slips her arm into mine. “I know it’s not much to look at, but don’t judge a diner by its exterior. Judge it by its pancakes.”

She tugs me along through the glass doors and into a dingy dining area made up of yellow pleather booths and a string of stools by the counter. One older man sits in the far corner, hunched over a big plate of food with a newspaper open at his side. Mark waves us over to a booth. His shoulder-length hair is pulled back in a ponytail and he’s wearing a Ningen Isu T-shirt for his favorite Japanese metal band. He’s hunched over his Chromebook.

I point to the laptop as I slide into the booth next to Kashvi. “Wait, you guys actually do homework here? I thought you were making that up for my parents’ benefit.”

“Only if I’m here alone.” He closes it and shoves it into a bag. “How was the game?”

“It was a game,” I reply with a shrug.

“Her brother’s team was so good that it was actually boring.”

The bell at the front entrance chimes.

“Finally! You’re late,” Mark yells. He’s facing the entrance, so I have to turn to see who it is. My gaze slides right past Sanjiv and lands on Logan.

He came.

My heart jumps into my throat. I was sure he’d find an excuse not to come. His eyes cut to mine and heat flows through me. He’s as gorgeous now as he was in the attic when he was telling me he needed to keep his distance from me—advice he’s clearly forgotten tonight. His cheeks are pink from the cold and his hair falls over his eyes as he pulls off Sloane’s crocheted hat. I love that he wears the hat everywhere.

Sanjiv slides in next to me so I’m between the twins. Logan sits across the table next to Mark. “Hey, all,” he says. He glances around the table, looking at me for only a moment before turning to Kashvi. “This is unexpected.”

“I realized we hadn’t introduced Quinn to this place,” Kashvi says. “We couldn’t hold out on her.”

“Do you like pancakes?” Sanjiv asks me.

I look around the group, sensing this might be an important question. “Absolutely. Pancakes, waffles, French toast—they’re all awesome.”

“Carbs and sugar,” Logan says almost to himself.

“But you can’t equate waffles to pancakes,” Sanjiv says. “And French toast is a totally different category.”

“She doesn’t know. She hasn’t had the pancakes yet,” Mark explains, almost like he’s making an excuse for me after I’ve been rude.

“You’re ordering them,” Sanjiv says, stern.

“Plus, the cook likes Sloane, so he always adds extra pancakes to our orders.”

“We’ve already made them promise to be nice to him indefinitely because I’m not going back to the three-pancake stack when I’ve grown accustomed to five,” Mark says.

A swinging door to the kitchen flies open and Sloane walks over, carrying water glasses. I don’t know why I thought they might be in a hair net or wearing a white apron, but they look just the same as always. Dark ripped jeans, gray shirt, and their striped rainbow hat. To my surprise, they’re also wearing one of the d20 necklaces Kashvi and I made before the last game. We’d given it to them, but Sloane doesn’t usually wear jewelry.

“The whole crowd made it,” Sloane announces as they pass out the waters. “I see you’ve been pulled over to the dark side, Quinn.”

“And I’ve been told—without exception—that I’ll be ordering the pancakes.”

“You can’t go wrong with those.” Sloane looks around the table. “Same for everyone?”

They all agree.

“You won’t have to stay in the back long, right?” Kashviasks.

Sloane looks around the empty restaurant. “No, I’ll be back in a second. But I’m on silverware duty while it’s dead so you’ll be helping.”

They come back a few moments later with a huge stack of paper napkins and a tray of silverware. “Okay, so just take a napkin and wrap it around a knife and fork, tucking in the edges as you go.” Sloane demonstrates. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, as long as you don’t lick the silverware.”

We all grab napkins and get to work.

“Hey, did you hear about the event the comic book store in Zanesville is putting on next Sunday?” Sanjiv asks.

We all shake our heads.

“They’re bringing in a few big comic book writers and artists and they’re doing a full-day event. Costume contests, signings, sales, tournaments, food trucks. What do you think? Should we try to go?”

“Hell yes,” Mark says immediately. Logan and Sloane nod enthusiastically, and I assume Kashvi’s already on board since Sanjiv’s relaying the info.

My mouth is clamped shut. Zanesville is only about twenty minutes from where I used to live. Would Caden show up at something like this? Would he bring Paige with him? Even the remote possibility of being face to face with them again has my stomach rioting.

“Quinn?” Sanjiv asks. “You in?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. There’s no way to know if Caden and Paige will be there. But I don’t remember Caden being into comics. Maybe I’m being paranoid.

Sloane and Mark nod encouragingly and Kashvi shakes my arm. “It’ll be so fun!”

“You should come,” Logan says quietly.

I’m incapable of fighting them all. I shouldn’t have to be worried about this. I don’t want to live my life hiding from my ex-friends.

“Let’s do it,” I announce with a smile.

“Awesome! Maybe my parents will let me drive their van,” Mark says. “Then we can all go together.”

A bell rings in the kitchen. “Orders up!” the cook calls from a little window.

“Hand ’em over.” Sloane takes the silverware from us. “Technique could use some work, but I appreciate the effort.”

My eyes widen when Sloane places my plate on the table a few moments later. The stack is enormous. There’s no way I can eat all this.

Mark gives me a knowing smile. “Just wait and see.”

Everyone dives in without another word and the table is silent as we add butter and syrup to our stacks. I lift the first bite to my mouth. They’re glorious. I’m in pancake heaven, frolicking through soft clouds of pancake pillows. If I were smaller, I’d make myself a pancake bed to sleep in and then wake up and nibble them for breakfast. I moan in bliss.

The rest of the table laughs, and I open my eyes to all five of them staring and grinning at me.

“She doubted us,” Mark says to the group.

“Last time she’ll do that,” Sanjiv says.

“How are they so good?” I ask Sloane, and they shrug, pulling over a chair and sitting down at the end of the booth. “Don’t look at me, I don’t make them.”

“Oh my god, I’m only eating these for the rest of my life. Every meal, right here. Pancakes.”

“I tried that,” Logan says. “I wouldn’t recommend it. I almost had to miss school my stomach hurt so bad.”

“Sounds like a bonus to me.”

I peek up at him, but eye contact is not a good idea. Best to keep my eyes down on my new favorite thing in the world.

We don’t stay too long after we’ve scraped our plates clean. We pay and pitch in to tip Sloane, then head for the parking lot.

Kashvi, Sanjiv, and Mark huddle at the door, finishing up a discussion about their upcoming history test, but I drift back toward Kashvi’s car.

“Quinn.”

It’s honestly distressing the way his voice affects me. I turn and Logan holds up a finger.

“Just a sec.” He opens his truck door, grabs something, and walks to me. “I think you can use these more than I can.” He holds up a quart-sized plastic bag filled with dice.

I take the bag and hold it up so I can see the dice better in the dim light of the parking lot. The bag is bulging with dice of all kinds—mostly simple primary colors, but I see a few other types, along with the glittery ones he sent the picture of.

I shake my head. “You don’t need to give all these to me. That’s really nice, but I’m sure we can order dice online for the jewelry.”

“Yeah, but I’m not using these and they’re weighing down my bag.”

“Are you vying for a cut of our profits like Sanjiv?” I ask, because I’m not really sure how to respond.

“Pancakes are on you next time.”

“Fair.” I smile shyly. I truly have no idea how to act around Logan now, but I also don’t want him to drive away yet. “Is this the pancake place you mentioned before?”

His expression lights up. “You remember? Yeah, this is it. The secret is ruined now.”

Wind gusts around us, whipping my hair into my face and sending shivers through me.

“You should be wearing your hat.” Logan points to my coat pocket where I shoved it.

I pull it out, but it’s hard to put it on with one hand since I’m holding the dice.

“Let me.”

I expect him to take the bag, but instead he takes the green hat and steps closer. He gingerly tugs it over my forehead, flattening my bangs over my eyes and making the back of the hat rise up to the crown of my head. I giggle and he gives an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, this is harder to do than I thought it’d be.”

“Here, I can do it.” I hand him the dice, shake out my hair, and pull the hat down so it covers my ears. “How’sthat?”

He tilts his head and the look in his eyes makes my bones go soft. “Perfect,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sloane makes really good hats, huh?”

I return his gaze. Something about the darkness makes it easier to meet his eye. “The best.”

“Ready to go?” Kashvi calls, and comes around the driver’s side.

“Yep,” I say, shaking myself, and take the dice back. “Look what Logan brought.”

Her eyes widen. “Whoa. That’s generous.”

“It’s my contribution to the project.”

“You’re always such a gentleman.” She cuts her eyes to me. “He’s trying to get a cut of our profits.”

“That’s what I said!” I cry.

Logan groans and throws his hands in the air. “I try to do a nice thing, and this is what I get. I’m going home!”

“Sorry, Logan!” Kashvi calls at his back. “We’ll have our people call your people!”

I climb into the car, smiling, but the weight of the dice on my lap isn’t as heavy as the weight of my thoughts. I want more of whatever’s going on between Logan and me, even if I shouldn’t.