CHAPTER TWO
Finlay
I stared into my mirror, applying my final coat of pink lip gloss. Loose curls hung over my bare shoulders.
Cole ducked his head into my doorway. “Finlay, you coming to my game?”
I didn’t bother turning around. “I have a date.”
“With college boy?” His voice took on that disgusted tone he got every time my life didn’t revolve around his football.
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re missing my last high school game to hang out with that douchebag.”
I pulled off my flip flops and chucked them at his head.
He caught them easily. “You still throw like a girl.”
“I’m still a girl.” My forehead creased, something suddenly dawning on me. “Oh, I get it. The scouts will stop showing up in droves now that you committed to Alabama.”
“So?”
“So, you’re worried you won’t have enough adoring fans there.”
He cocked his head. “I’ll have fans.”
“Keep telling yourself that, superstar.” I turned back to the mirror, making sure my makeup was still in place.
There was a long pause before Cole spoke again. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want my sister there.”
My heart squeezed in my chest, but there was no way I’d let him know that. “Well this sister is so over high school football games.”
He scoffed from his spot in the doorway. “If you ask me, she thinks she’s better than high school. Better than her own brother.” He turned and walked off, leaving me feeling like a fraud. A big fat fraud.
Of course I wanted to see him play in his last high school football game. He was my twin. My other half. My partner in crime since the womb. But being the star quarterback’s sister wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. I was QB’s little sis or Cole’s sister. Never Finlay. I lost my identity as soon as Cole became a hot shot quarterback. The best in the state. And while I would’ve liked nothing more than to watch him play, I needed to have my own thing. I needed to be my own person. I needed to have my own life. Living in Cole’s shadow just didn’t allow it. So I started distancing myself from him. Blaming him for the circus happening around us. And when I said us, I meant him.
Senior year, when decisions about the future were so important, his “celebrity” had hit an all-time high, taking a major toll on me. My decision to go to the University of Tampa to major in something in the medical field took a backseat to the most anticipated answer in the state. Which college would Cole Thatcher play football for? Scouts stopped by the house, called regularly, and attended his games. And it wasn’t just college scouts interested, pro scouts had been out, too, even though he wouldn’t be eligible for the draft for two years. In our small town, word spread quickly. The local newspaper wouldn’t keep quiet about his prospects. So the girls in our small town knew they’d be hitting the jackpot if they could score Cole.
I learned quickly if someone I didn’t know suddenly wanted me to sit with them at lunch or hang out with them on the weekend, they were only using me to get close to Cole. It became such a normal occurrence, I no longer knew who to trust. Never knew why anyone was talking to me, even friends I’d had since kindergarten.
Frankly, his fame sucked. So what did I do? I made sure to suck as a sister. I avoided his games. I avoided him. Like any of it was his fault. But living in the shadow of someone else was the worst kind of fate. And for my own sanity, I put an end to it.
* * *
I glanced over my shoulder from where I stood over the sink cleaning the last of the water bottles. Grady walked out of the locker room glaring at me. He would’ve had to work harder than that to get me to roll over.
My eyes flashed around the nearly empty room. A few stragglers were finishing up. Brooks shoved his belongings into his bag, his eyes darting from mine as soon as I spotted him. Was he still waiting for a thanks? Waiting for me to show my appreciation for him stepping in earlier? I knew what that entailed in a college quarterback’s mind, and it’d be a cold day in hell before that ever happened.
Turning back to the sink, I dried my hands. It was going to be a long season. I’d come to Alabama hoping to fly under the radar—hell, it’s how I’d been living my life for the last two years. But now I had Grady on my back and the QB hating me. Things were definitely off to a stellar start.
I strolled up the winding path from the stadium toward Harris Hall, my hands pruned from water and my head pounding with an impending headache. Luckily, I hadn’t been placed in a freshmen dorm. Because, though I technically was a freshman, I should have been a junior. Taking two years off had set me back—in more ways than one.
With most students, including my roommate Sabrina, not scheduled to arrive for another two weeks, it had given me time to adjust. Time to get my bearings. Time to acknowledge the fact that I was now living someone else’s dream.
My first week had been tough. Baking in the hot sun all day while waiting on expectant football players wasn’t at all glamorous. If I hadn’t lathered myself in SPF 100 each morning, I would’ve fried out there, giving me more freckles on my nose than was acceptable now that I wasn’t a little kid anymore. Mom and Dad had called and texted daily. I knew they worried about me. But they had their own lives to move on with. So my decision to attend Alabama gave us all the space we needed to heal in our own way.
I flashed my keycard at the front door of my dorm, the closest one to the stadium in the village of contemporary five-story structures. I climbed the stairs to the third floor and made my way down the empty hallway. I stopped at my door, admiring my fancy artwork on the whiteboard—Finlay and Sabrina in red marker interlocking with bright red flowers. No one was going to say I didn’t have Bama in my blood.
I punched in the code and stepped inside the room, dropping onto my red comforter and falling onto my back. I didn’t sleep much, but the thick heat and direct sunlight I endured all day seemed to be the key. Because for the first time in months, my eyes drifted shut effortlessly. And for a short time, I could be sure my mind would remain a blank slate. With too much time on my hands and not enough sleep, the nightmares and memories crept in, stealing every drop of happiness I could muster. And for the past two years, those drops had been hard to come by.
* * *
“So...I’m leaving.”
I placed another shirt into the suitcase on my bed before glancing up. Cole stood in my doorway, a backpack on his back and a suitcase at his feet. “Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay?”
I crossed my arms and stared at him in his Alabama T-shirt. “What would you like me to say? Go kick some ass, Cole? Enjoy college, Cole? Or better yet, can I have an autograph from the almighty Cole Thatcher?”
“Why are you always such a bitch?”
“Oh, I’m sorry for not acting the way the great Cole Thatcher thinks I should act. Tell me, what would be better?”
He stared at me, disgust filling every inch of his face. I couldn’t help wondering if he was equally disgusted by my newly dyed blonde hair. My latest attempt at declaring my individuality—and a total bust. “What happened to you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe this is who I am. Did you ever think of that?”
He shook his head. “No. Something happened. Something that made you despise me so much.”
“People grow up. And sometimes that means they grow apart.” With every word out of my mouth, bile rose up the back of my throat, prickling my tongue.
“I don’t believe you.”
A car horn honked. His eyes flashed down the hallway. “Well...” He reached down and grabbed his suitcase before staring at me long and hard. With the shake of his head, he turned and walked toward the stairs.
Tears pricked my eyes as his footsteps descended the stairs. It took everything in me not to run after him. To throw my arms around him and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug. To tell him he was the best brother a girl could ask for. But my stupid pride stopped me. I uncrossed my arms and went back to packing for my own impending departure to college. I didn’t glance back up until I heard the screen door slam shut downstairs. That’s when the floodgates opened and sobs ensued.
I jolted up from my bed. Even with air conditioning pumping through the vents in my dark dorm room, I sat in a puddle of my own sweat. It happened often. My subconscious had a field day while I slept, haunting me with a myriad of regrets.
I grabbed my phone from my nightstand. Four in the morning. That sounded about right. Heaving a deep breath, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the shower down the hall, a necessity after one of my “episodes.” Once the cold water had wrenched the sweat from my body, I threw on shorts and a T-shirt and headed out for a run. Running was the only thing that knocked the memories from my head. At least for a little while.
I stepped outside into the dark morning, the hot air forming an imaginary blockade against me. My lungs expanded on a long, deep breath as I began my slow trek up the hill from my dorm at the bottom of campus, passing the other dorms shrouded in darkness.
Once I reached the quad, I maintained a steady pace. Even in the darkness, I took in the asymmetrical trees that created a canopy around the outskirts of the grass. Blue security lights lit each corner, the only means of safety in the dark space. Unlike my younger self, the darkness didn’t scare me. Nor did those who lurked in the darkness. In my world, life and its unexpected curveballs were much scarier. Much more detrimental to one’s well-being.
I picked up speed, challenging myself. Competing with the internal struggle I felt being on campus. By the time I’d circled the quad for the first time, my heart rate had accelerated. I knew I could run faster. Smoother. Without gasping for air. So I pumped my arms, giving myself a push to gain speed. My faster pace created an early morning breeze against my face. I felt something I hadn’t felt in some time. Free.
“What’s the rush?” a deep voice asked, startling the hell out of me.
My head whipped to the right.
Caden Brooks jogged beside me, keeping pace with me.
“It’s called jogging.” I didn’t stop. If anything, I moved faster.
“No, it’s called running like someone’s chasing you.” He hadn’t even broken a sweat and his breathing wasn’t labored. Asshole.
“Seeing as though I didn’t hear you, I wouldn’t have known someone was chasing me.” There.
“Well, that’s stupid.”
My head recoiled. “What?”
“Didn’t anyone teach you to be aware of your surroundings?”
No way in hell this guy was going to give me a safety lesson at four-thirty in the freaking morning. “Yeah, I guess if they had, I could’ve avoided you following me.”
“Following you?”
“We both ended up here, didn’t we?” I asked, hating that I struggled to talk while running.
“I’ve gone to this school for two years,” he continued. “Everyone knows it’s my morning ritual. If anyone’s following someone, it’s you. Wouldn’t be the first time a fan tried to get near me.”
With my face contorted in disgust, I slowed to a stop. Did girls really fall for this guy?
Brooks’ legs continued to move as he glanced over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving you and your ego alone,” I called. “You deserve to be together.” I turned and jogged back down the hill toward my dorm. I could jog on the sidewalks down there.
Caden Brooks could have the quad.
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