Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(23)

When he whips in my direction, his face is etched in panic, like he’s about to be in trouble, but when he finds it’s only me, his mouth tilts into a smile. “Can’t sleep. What are you still doing up?”

“Enjoying my birthday.”

“Want to enjoy it out here?”

Oh my God. I’m holding my lips closed to keep me from squealing. I swear that birthday wish was so much stronger than all the other wishes this year.

“I um . . . don’t you think we’ll get in trouble for being on the roof?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t gotten caught by anyone yet. Well, besides you. You don’t have to though.”

I want to though.

I push my window open farther, eyeing the ledge. It’s only about a foot drop and this part of the roof is completely flat. Before I lose my nerve, I swing one leg over the ledge before sitting on the windowsill and bringing my other leg out as well.

Thankfully, we’ve had an unseasonably warm week, so I’m not worried about snow or ice. It’s all melted at this point, but still, I crawl on my hands and knees to meet him in the middle of the roof between our houses.

He chuckles as I take a cautious seat, and it’s then I realize that though it’s not snowing, it’s still freezing out here and I didn’t think to throw a sweatshirt on over my sleep shirt. But I also don’t want to crawl back to my room and risk missing out on this.

I hold my knees close to my chest to keep as much warmth in as I can.

He nudges his shoulder into mine. “Did you have a good birthday?”

“Yeah.”

“What was your favorite part?”

This.

“Um, maybe going to get my nails done with your mom this morning?”

I hold my hands out to show him.

“Ten different colors?” he asks with a laugh. “Couldn’t decide?”

I shake my head no.

“Kind of like your room.” He nods towards my window where I recently painted my bedroom walls . . . again.

This go around, I decided to do each of the four walls a different color shade of green. I like it. For now.

“My mom loves you,” he says. “I’m pretty sure she wishes you were her daughter.”

I giggle, but my teeth chatter as I do.

“Are you cold?”

I quickly shake my head. I don’t want him to tell me to go back to my room. “No. I’m fine.”

He unzips his hoodie, slipping his arms out. I catch sight of the friendship bracelet I made tied around his wrist. He was trying to make one for me too, but he had a hard time figuring out the knots and only got a couple of inches finished.

He holds out his hoodie for me to take.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” I ask.

“I play hockey. I’m used to the cold. I’m warm enough.”

I keep my lips pressed together to hold in any excited noises that want to escape.

His sweatshirt is warm from his body heat when I slip my arms through the holes, and it smells so much like him, I think his scent might be embedded in the fibers. I try to cover my deep inhale as I hide my hands in the pockets, realizing I was too excited to get out here that I still have my birthday mixtape in my grasp.

There’s a silence between us, both of us just sitting on the roof and looking at the moon. I search for something, anything to say, wanting to extend the moment for as long as possible.

“How was hockey practice?” I ask.

Rio shrugs. “It was a scrimmage. I didn’t get to play much.”

“Maybe you’ll get to play more next week.”

“Probably not.” He sighs. “The other guys are so much better than me.”

I don’t know what to say to that because he’s not entirely wrong. I’ve been to a lot of his games and when he does get to play, it’s kind of obvious that he’s not as good as his teammates. He’s become a better skater, but he’s not great at the stick and puck handling aspect. Though, he’s usually excited to just be out there.

“I think I’m going to quit.”

“What?” I jolt back and he reaches out to steady me as if he thinks I’m going to fall. He quickly takes his hand off my leg when he realizes I’m safe. “Why would you quit?”

He lifts a brow as if to say, do I really have to explain it?

“I’m not going to make the high school team next year, so what’s the point? Maybe I should try lacrosse with Luke. At least I wouldn’t look like an idiot on skates.”

The defeat in his voice makes me sad. He’s always so positive about things, even not being the best at hockey.

“Do you even like lacrosse?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

No, he doesn’t.

“I don’t think you should quit.”

He huffs a white plume of cold air, and I know he’s freezing right now. “Why not?”

“Because it’s your dream to play for the NHL. For the Boston Bobcats. Your favorite team.”

“That’s never going to happen, Hallie. I’m not good.”

“You don’t know that. You’ll be in high school next year and your coaches will be even better. You’ll get better too. And I like going to your games to watch you, even if you don’t get to play.”