Gabby couldn’t. She left Shay in the car listening to a podcast and posted up near the door to the gym, stamping her feet on the concrete to try and warm them. It was freezing and slightly damp out, that heavy black purple sky that threatened snow.
“Hey,” Ryan said, turning up after what felt like forever and grinning when he saw her, his wet hair icing over a bit in the cold. He smelled like he always did after hockey games, mildewy locker-room showers and Axe body wash, still red-faced and a little sweaty like his body hadn’t gotten the message to cool off yet. “What are you doing here?”
“I think I fucked up,” she blurted out.
Ryan laughed at that. “Why,” he asked, “what’d you do?” Then, looking at her more closely, realizing somehow that she wasn’t screwing around: “Seriously, what’d you do?”
Gabby took a deep breath.
RYAN
“What?” Ryan asked again, staring at her in the glare of the orange safety light affixed to the side of the building. “Really, I just—you did what?”
“I’m sorry,” Gabby said again. “It’s not like I went to him specifically to tattle on you. I just kind of panicked.”
“No,” Ryan said, trying to keep his voice level, “panicking is when you called 911 on me at that party because I scared you, and that was fine. But this—”
“Wait a minute,” Gabby said, frowning, her posture straightening out a bit. “You had a concussion at that party, Ryan. You passed out at that party. And you have a concussion now.”
“You don’t know that,” Ryan snapped. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, actually,” Gabby retorted. “I’m somebody who knows you’ve gotten your head slammed against the ice twice in the last couple of weeks. I’m somebody who knows you couldn’t even focus enough to sit still at Shay’s concert the other night.”
Oh, please. “Shay’s concert was a snooze of fucking epic proportions, Gabby.”
Gabby threw up her hands. “Look,” she said. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you smash your brain to soup trying prove what a big man you are. I won’t.”
“So don’t, then!” Ryan mirrored her gesture. “Who asked you to watch to begin with?”
“You did, asshole! You asked me to come to your stupid game!”
Well. That was true enough, Ryan guessed, though he wasn’t about to concede the point. “Fine,” he said instead. “So I should just quit hockey altogether so that you don’t have to worry about me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Can you stop trying to make it about me worrying?” Gabby asked. “That’s not what it’s about. But yes, basically. I’m telling you there are a lot of other things to do besides that.”
“Like what?” Ryan glared at her. “What exactly do you see me doing?”
“What, like, when you grow up?” Gabby looked at him like he was a moron. “Anything! Become a sportswriter. Be a lawyer. Start a business.”
“Like dog grooming, you mean?” Ryan scowled at her.
Gabby’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re being a dick.”
“And you’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to go to law school, Gabby. Be real.”
“You could! Why couldn’t you?”
“Because I am not fucking smart enough for law school, Gabby! Jesus Christ.” Oh, he hated her for making him say it. He kind of hated her, period. He wanted this conversation to be over.
But Gabby was shaking her head, incredulous. “You are so,” she insisted, stubborn as a little kid. “You’re—”
“I’m not. And it’s insulting to say it to me. I’m not you, and I’m not Shay, clearly, so—”
Gabby’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Forget it.”
For a second he thought she was going to push, but in the end it must have felt too dangerous to her, and for that, at least, Ryan could be grateful. “You realize I need to keep playing if I ever want to get out of Colson,” he continued when she was silent for a moment. “The only way I’m ever going to college is a hockey scholarship.”
“That’s not true,” Gabby said.
“Oh, really?” Ryan demanded. He was enjoying himself a little bit now, in some messed-up way. “Even if I got in someplace with my grades, it’s not like my mom has some kind of magical college fund in a coffee can on top of the fridge.”
“There are loans,” Gabby pointed out in a small voice.
“Who do you imagine is going to pay those loans back, Gabby?” God, she was so thick sometimes. It killed him. “In case you haven’t noticed, my life is not quite as fucking cushy as yours.”
That stung her, he could tell. Good, Ryan thought. Let her sting. “Don’t tell me what I’ve noticed,” she said coldly, drawing herself up to her full height like a tall, affronted ostrich.
“Somebody needs to,” Ryan said. “Do you have any idea how spoiled you sound right now? I know you grew up in magical Sesame Street Candyland where everybody constantly tells you you can be anything you want to be, but—”
“You are not downtrodden!” Gabby exploded. “Oh my god, you’re a hugely popular white boy hockey player living in the suburbs, Ryan. I’m not going to stand here and listen to you talk about how hard your life is. It’s insulting.”
Ryan felt his face get hot, shame and anger. “That’s not—”
“No,” Gabby interrupted, “it is. Somehow you got it into your head that the only thing you have going for you is hockey, and if you want to believe that, then fine, I can’t stop you. But you’re bigger than this stupid, barbaric sport.”
Ryan laughed in her face. “I’m not, actually. But it’s nice to know what you think of it. And it’s nice to know what you think of me.”
“Can you stop it?” Gabby was shouting now, seeming not to care if anybody else could hear her; in another second she’d probably stamp her foot. “Your dad’s an asshole who doesn’t pay enough attention to you, Ryan, we get it. It’s boring. And just because he doesn’t give you enough credit is no reason not to give it to yourself.”
That was over the line, and they both knew it; when Gabby opened her mouth, Ryan knew she was going to backpedal, but he held up his hands before she could speak. “You know what?” he said. “I’m done with this conversation. My friends are going out.”
“Ryan—” Gabby reached for him then, trying to cross the distance between them; Ryan stepped neatly out of her way.
“Thanks for nothing, I guess.” He almost spat it. “You can go.”
Gabby stared at him for a moment, hands still hovering in midair like she was trying to touch the nighttime. Then she turned around, and she went.
RYAN
Ryan stood frozen on the concrete for a long time after Gabby was gone. His anger was like a layer of foam insulation wrapped around him: something with physical density, like he might be able to reach out and grab a fistful of it. Like it was so thick and suffocating he could barely breathe.