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Coach Brennan is still at the gate, clipboard tucked under his arm while he talks to one of the assistants. He barely glances at me as I take my place with the rest of the team.
Good.
I shove my hands into my pockets and wait.
About a minute later, Quinn appears.
I see her before her dad does.
Her ponytail is fixed, her clothes are straight, and there’s absolutely nothing about her that should make me think about what we were doing a few minutes ago.
She walks straight to her dad without looking at me.
Brennan wraps an arm around her shoulders when she reaches him. “Drive safe,” he says. “Text me when you’re home.”
“I will.”
I keep my eyes somewhere over Brennan’s shoulder.
At least, I do until Quinn looks at me. Just for a second.
Then she turns back to her dad like I’m nobody at all.
Yeah.
Four days is going to fucking suck.
***
Jordan drops into the seat beside me on the plane and buckles his seat belt. “Really? Family bathroom?”
I turn my head. He’s looking straight ahead.
“What?” I try to buy time, playing innocent.
“You heard me.”
Now he looks at me.
I glance toward the front of the plane. Brennan is several rows ahead with the coaching staff.
“How much did you see?”
“You disappear about ninety seconds after Quinn, then come back a few minutes before her looking like that?”
“Looking like what?”
“Like you just made out with somebody in a family bathroom.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Did Brennan notice?”
“No.”
Relief hits fast.
