Did he send him there to punish me? I wondered for a brief moment if Robert actually was Heath Hall. But just like he knew me well, I knew him, and although Robert liked attention, he would never show up at a public event claiming to be someone he wasn’t for a bit of notoriety.

“What? No . . . never mind. Bring my stuff tomorrow.” His indifferent face was back before he walked away. Again. I was supposed to walk away first this time.

I was grumbling when I entered the building that housed the locker rooms. Apparently, I wasn’t paying attention either because I nearly plowed down DJ. He dropped a stack of papers that scattered upon impact with the floor.

“Sorry,” I said.

He lowered himself to his knees and gathered them. I helped, my towel restricting my usefulness.

“It’s okay. You’re here late.”

“So are you.” Just as I was about to pick up one of the pages, I saw my name at the top. I reached for it to get a better look when DJ snatched it from beneath my fingers and stood, arms full of disorganized pages.

“What are those?”

“Just time sheets and stuff,” he said, but I could tell that’s not what they were.

“But it said, ‘one hundred butterfly,’ under my name. I’ve never raced in the butterfly.” At least not since starting high school.

“You’ve swum it in practice.”

DJ wasn’t a very good liar. “Is Coach going to let me swim it on Friday? Is that what it’s about?”

“No . . . I mean, I’m not sure. But that’s not what these are.” He clutched the papers tighter as if I had X-ray vision and could see through them.

“What are they, then?”

“Hadley, stop. I know you think your persistence is charming, but it can be frustrating at times.”

I gripped the top of my towel, glad to know every guy in the universe found my determination off-putting. My eyes stung with the insult.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said.

“No. You didn’t.” I moved to walk around him and he stepped in front of me.

“Hadley. I’m sorry. You are every coach’s dream. Persistence is key to what you do.”

“DJ, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. See you around.”

“Hadley,” he said, but I was already through the door to the girls’ locker room, glad he couldn’t follow me in there.

Nine

Amelia was late. It was 6:35. She was supposed to pick me up at 6:30. I sat at the counter in the kitchen, more dressed up than I’d been in a while. My hair was up in a bun, I wore the black dress that Amelia swore wasn’t too tight, and I was even wearing heels. If she didn’t get here soon, we were going to miss him. Tension had spread up from my shoulders and was beginning to settle in my neck.

I tapped the edge of my art show ticket on the counter several times. I checked my phone. It was 6:37 and there were no missed calls or texts from Amelia. I tried to call her again. She didn’t answer. Ugh. Why didn’t I have a car? Sometimes it sucked depending on others for transportation.

I knocked on my dad’s bedroom door and opened it when he gave a muffled reply. “Hey, Dad. Can I borrow your truck?”

He was lying in bed reading a book, which he lowered to look at me. “I thought Amelia was picking you up.”

“She’s late.”

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “Eight minutes late?”

“I need to be at the museum by seven.”

“It’s an open house–type thing. There’s a three-hour window to see all the pieces. You probably won’t need the whole three hours. Especially because I didn’t think you enjoyed looking at art.”

Why did everyone think I didn’t appreciate art? Just because I wasn’t artistic didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate good art. But that wasn’t the point. I needed the whole three hours to make sure I didn’t miss Heath. If we missed him, we’d have to try something else, and so far, nothing else was working. We’d been talking to people all week and nobody knew anything concrete. I hoped Heath didn’t wait until 9:55 to show up tonight because my feet were already killing me. “I know, it’s just . . . we were meeting someone there at seven.”

“I see. Yes, you can—”

A car horn from outside cut him off.

“Never mind! Thanks, Dad.” I tripped my way out of his room, then steadied myself. I needed more practice walking in heels.

“Have fun,” he called after me. “And remember who you are!”

“Already forgot!” I called back, then pulled the door shut behind me.

I hurried to Amelia’s car. “Took you long enough,” I said when I got inside.

“Sorry. My mom borrowed my shoes and didn’t remember where she’d put them. I was trying to find them and Cooper thought it was the time to blockade me from going into each room.”

“That’s annoying.”

“You are so lucky you don’t have to deal with siblings.” Right as she said it, she sucked in her lips. “Wow. I’m sorry. I’m a loser. You can hit me as hard as you want in the arm.” She held out her arm like I was really going to do it.

I stared at Eric’s truck, up there on its pedestal, as she pulled down the driveway and out onto the street. In a way she was right. I didn’t have to deal with siblings. But in a way she was so very wrong. “No, it’s okay. I knew what you meant. Did you end up warning Abby and your brother about tonight?” I asked.

“Yes. They both kind of blew it off. Abby said they have security at the museum, then added, ‘We’ve met the real Heath Hall, so we won’t be impressed.’”

“So she thinks he won’t be able to get in?”

“Or something. Cooper just laughed and said he remembered a few things fake Heath Hall had done in their day, then patted my head.”

“Their day? Like two years ago?”

“Yeah. I decided that maybe they deserve a little trouble tonight.”

I laughed. “Speaking of trouble. I forgot to tell you what happened after practice the other night.”

“You mean Robert showing up? I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think he’s Heath Hall?”

“I thought about it for like a second, but no, I don’t. I don’t even think he likes Heath Hall movies.” I shook my head. “But that’s not what I meant. I was going to tell you about . . .” I stopped because Amelia had just pulled into the parking lot and I saw someone standing there in a suit. “DJ.”

“I invited him,” Amelia said.

“And he came?”

Amelia wiggled her eyebrows. “Apparently, he’s not completely out of my league and doesn’t have a problem with the whole dog-years thing.”

“He is . . . I was going to tell you about him.”

“About DJ?”

“Yes. This is going to be very awkward.” I hadn’t talked to him since our uncomfortable exchange outside the locker room.

She parked and turned off the car. “Why? DJ’s great. So what happened?”

“I’ll have to explain later,” I said because DJ opened her door. I swallowed down the hurt I still felt over what he’d said to me yesterday and I pulled my door open. I didn’t have a problem pretending things were fine. I’d had lots of practice.