"Are you sorry?"
His head whips toward me, dark eyes pleading for things I'd give him if I could. "Do you want me to be sorry?"
I asked the first question, but I don't even know what we're talking about. Then I shake my head because Mateo shouldn't be sorry for anything. Not this morning. I don't know if we'll have another one like it.
"I should've invited you here," I murmur. "It was—I don't know why I thought you'd say no."
"Things have been weird for a while."
"Yeah."
"We’ve kept too much to ourselves. We're at least supposed to talk about things. We’re supposed to be friends."
"Friends," I echo. "Yeah."
There's a beat of silence. Several actually, and I remember when they used to feel right. Discomfort stirs between us now, and I fidget next to him, shaking out a leg that’s doing just fine. Mateo sighs, and I should've used those last few seconds to brace myself.
"I was there. That night."
I'm glad he has the coffee because I think I would've dropped it. "That night."
He doesn't drag those two words into a longer sentence. I don't need him to. Eleven years ago,that nightbegan to mean one thing. Five years after that, it meant a second thing too, but I already know he was there for that one. I frown and lean away because there's been a lot of fucking time to have this conversation. I almost sit on the dock out of spite. Then my cheeks warm, and I close my eyes as I seethe over the injury that left me alone in my best friend's bar the night I met Mateo, and gave him the power to ruin my life every single day since.
"Sophie and I were there," he amends. "It was the only game we went to that season, and I can't believe we saw—actually, no. I barelysaw it at all. But the sound you made. I think I knew even then that I'd never, ever forget that sound."
"I've always been too loud."
It's a hell of a thing to say to the man who figured out how to keep me quiet with a couple of well-placed fingers. He probably isn't interested in swapping one set of memories for another.
"It wasn't the volume. It was the sorrow."
I want to argue Mateo's choice of words, but only because I'm pissed he's spent so much time remembering me that way. "You should've told me."
"Maybe," he says. "But it seemed like an awkward thing to bring up at back-to-school night."
"And every night since?"
Mateo shrugs. "I didn't want to bind myself to the night you lost the love of your life, especially if I was going to spend forever competing with it."
"You're not competing with it."
"Yes, I am."
Yes, he is. I should apologize, but it won't matter much when he's going to fly home and I'm going to return to arenas full of people who know me by my full name. I should apologize, but I'm still unhappy, so I take the coffee back from him and soothe myself with it while he admires a view I don't think he'll have for a while. I should apologize, and I do, but I make sure it hurts us both.
"Sorry this isn't a Mai Tai," I say, holding up the mug.
"Sorry the lake isn't frozen."
He walks away from me then. I can't help but turn to watch him because he's the view I won't have for a while. When the dock is over more land than water, Mateo makes the small jump off the side and moves toward the lake again. The sun isn't high enough in the sky for him to enjoy wading right now, but that doesn't appear tobe his goal. He squats when he's close enough to touch the water. Maybe he just needs to confirm my wish has no chance of coming true today.
I call to him from where I stand. "You have something else to say."
Mateo slowly pulls his fingers back and wipes them on his jacket. He's even slower when he stands to face me. I don't like that I'm above him like this, but maybe he's felt like I've had the higher ground all along. I'd bet millions the opposite is true.
"I think Harper knows. About us."
"Aboutus?" I growl. "What the fuck does that mean?"