Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Bridget moved herself out to the little porch of her
cabin. She could look at the bay at least. She had a
pen and a pad of paper. She needed to send the Pants off
to Carmen, but today was a hard day for writing.
She was sitting there, chewing on her pen cap, when
Eric came over. He sat on the railing.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said.
“You missed the game,” he said. He didn’t touch her. He
didn’t look at her. “It was a good one. Diana tore up the field.”
They were rewinding the clock. He was back to being
the benign coach, and she was the irrepressible camper.
He was asking her permission to pretend that whatever
had happened didn’t happen.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to give it. “I was tired. Big
night last night.”
His face colored. He held out his hands and looked at
his palms. “Listen, Bridget.” He seemed to be picking