Neil came back Friday afternoon before the sky had gone fully dark. He did not come inside. He only called from the doorway, “Emma, let’s go.”
When I came downstairs with my jacket, he was already waiting outside, keys turning around his finger. The zipper of his team jacket was half undone, and the wind had messed up his hair, making him look like he had carried half the practice field home with him—or like he had spent the whole afternoon being casually impossible.
“Are you really carving pumpkins?” I asked.
Neil glanced at me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You say that like I lied to you.”
I said nothing.
He laughed, conceding his own record. “Okay. Fair.”
By the time we reached the school, the sky had darkened a little. The entrance was busier than I expected. A few long tabl
