It was too early for this crap.
Standing behind Megan, I was hoping I could just blend into the wall and be forgotten. Then I could lie down and take a nap. Sebastian had stayed till three in the morning, and I was way too tired to do anything remotely physical.
Coach Rogers, also known as Sergeant Rogers or Lieutenant First Class Jerk Face, crossed his arms. His face held a permanent scowl. I’d never seen him smile. Not even when we made it to the playoffs last year.
He was also the ROTC drill instructor, so he treated us like we were in boot camp. Today was going to be no different.
“Hit the bleachers,” he ordered. “Ten sets.”
Sighing, I reached up and tugged on the tail of my hair, tightening the ponytail as Megan bounced around, facing me. “Whoever finishes last has to buy the other a smoothie after practice.”
The corners of my lips turned down. “That’s not fair. You’re going to finish first.”
“I know.” Giggling, she tore off toward the indoor bleachers.
Reaching down, I tugged on my black practice shorts and then resigned myself to death by bleacher.
The team hit the metal seats. Sneakers pounded as we worked our way up. At the top row, I smacked the wall as expected. If we didn’t do it, we’d be starting all over. Back down I went, gaze focused on the rows in front of me as my knees and arms pumped. By the fifth round, the muscles in my legs burned, along with my lungs.
I almost died.
More than once.
Once it was over, my legs felt like jelly as I joined Megan on the court. “I’d like a strawberry banana smoothie,” she said, her face flushed pink. “Thank you.”
“Shut up,” I muttered breathlessly as I glanced over to the bleachers. At least I wasn’t last. I twisted back to her. “I’m getting McDonald’s.”
Megan snorted as she fixed her shorts. “Of course you are.”
“At least I’m eating eggs,” I reasoned. I’d probably have a hell of a lot toner legs and stomach if I got that smoothie after practice instead of the Egg McMuffin and hash brown I was planning to do bad, bad things to.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think those kind of eggs count.”
“That’s sacrilegious to even utter.”
“I don’t think you know what that word means,” she replied.
“I don’t think you know when to shut up.”
Tipping her blond head back, Megan laughed. Sometimes I wondered how we’d become such close friends. We were polar opposites. She didn’t read unless it was flirting tips in Cosmo or the weekly horoscopes in the magazines her mom had around the house. I, of course, read every book I got my hands on. I was going to be applying for financial aid, and she had a major college fund. Megan ate McDonald’s only if she’d been drinking, which wasn’t often, and I ate McDonald’s so much I was on a first-name basis with the lady who worked the window in the morning.
Her name was Linda.
Megan was more outgoing than me, more willing to try new things, while I was the person always weighing the pros and cons before doing something, finding more cons than there were pros to almost every activity. Megan seemed years younger than seventeen, oftentimes acting like a hyper kitten climbing curtains. She was downright goofy half the time. But what seemed like cluelessness was only surface deep. She was an ace at math without even having to try. On the outside, she appeared to take nothing seriously, but she was as bright as she was bubbly.
We both planned—or hoped—to get into UVA, prayed that we’d get housed together and strived to give Dary the hardest possible time, with love, every day of our lives.
Deciding I was going to order two hash browns and eat them right in front of her face, I cut in front of her as we walked to where our captain was waiting.
Practice was grueling.
Since it was preseason and a Friday, it was all calisthenics. Lunges. Squats. Suicide sprints. Jumps. Nothing made me feel more out of shape than these kinds of practices. I was dragging ass by the time we wrapped up, sweating in places I didn’t even want to think about.
“Seniors, I need you guys to stick around for a few minutes,” Coach Rogers called out. “Everyone else can head out.”
Megan shot me a look as we lumbered to our feet. My stomach ached a little from the sit-ups, so I concentrated on not bending over and crying like a teething baby.
“Our first game is a couple of weeks off, as is our first tournament, but I want you all to make sure you realize how important this season is.” Coach straightened his cap, pulling the bill down. “This isn’t just your final year. This is the time that scouts will be coming to the tournaments. Many of the colleges here in Virginia and surrounding states are looking for freshman players.”
Pressing my lips together, I loosely crossed my arms. A volleyball scholarship would be sweet. I wanted one. Was going to gun for it, but there were better girls on the team, including Megan.
The likelihood of both of us landing positions at UVA was slim.
“I cannot stress how important your performance will be this season,” Coach droned on. His dark gaze lingered on me in a way that made me feel like he’d noticed just how crappy my sprints had been. “You’re not going to get a do-over. You’re not going to get second chances to impress these scouts. There isn’t a next year.”
Megan’s gaze slid toward mine and her brows lifted about an inch. This was a wee bit dramatic.
Coach went on and on about good life choices or something, and then he was done. Dismissed, our group made our way toward the remaining burgundy-and-white gym bags.
Megan bumped her shoulder into mine as she reached to grab her water from the top of her bag. “You kind of sucked today.”
“Thanks,” I replied, mopping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “I feel so much better after hearing that.”
She grinned around the rim of the bottle, but before she could respond, the coach yelled out my last name. “Oh crap,” Megan whispered, widening her eyes.
Swallowing a groan, I pivoted around and jogged over to where he was standing near the net we often had to repeatedly jump in front of. When Coach used your last name, it was a lot like your mom using your full name.
Coach Rogers’s neatly trimmed beard was more salt than pepper, but the man was fit and more than intimidating. He could run those bleachers in half the time Megan could, and right now he looked like he wanted to order me to do another set of ten. If he did, it would be RIP Lena.
“I was watching you today,” he said.
Oh no.
“Didn’t look like your head was in practice.” He crossed his arms, and I knew I was in for it. “Are you still working at Joanna’s?”
Tensing because we’d had this conversation before, I nodded. “I closed last night.”
“Well, that explains a lot. You know how I feel about you working when you have practice,” he said.
Yes, I did know. Coach Rogers didn’t think anyone who played sports should work, because work was a distraction. “It’s just during the summer.” That was kind of a lie, because I planned to work weekends during the school year. I needed to keep my McDonald’s fund fluffy, but he really didn’t need to know any of that. “I’m sorry about practice. I’m just a little tired—”
“A lot tired by the looks of it,” he cut in with a sigh. “You were forcing yourself through every set.”
I guess I wasn’t going to get credit for that effort.
He lifted his chin and stared down his nose at me. Coach was a beast during practice and the games, but most days I liked him. He cared about his players. Really cared. Last year, he organized a fund-raiser for a student whose family lost everything in a house fire. I knew he was against animal cruelty, because I saw him wearing ASPCA shirts. But right now, in this moment, I did not like the man at all.
“Look,” he continued, “I know things are tight at home, especially with your father... Well, with all of that.”
Clenching my teeth until my jaw ached, I fixed a blank expression on my face. Everyone knew about my dad. It sucked living in a small town.
“And you and your mom could use the extra cash—I get that—but you really need to look at the big picture here. Take these practices more seriously, dedicate more time, and you can up your playing this year. Maybe catch the eye of a scout,” he said. “Then you get a scholarship. Less aid. That’s what you need to be focused on—your future.”
Even though I knew he meant well, I wanted to tell him that my mom and I and my future were really none of his business. But I didn’t say that. I just shifted my weight from one foot to the next, picturing the greasy hash brown in my head.
Oh my God, I was going to smother that baby with ketchup.
“You have talent.”
I blinked. “Really?”
His expression softened a bit as he clapped a hand down on my shoulder. “I think you have a shot at landing a scholarship.” He squeezed gently. “Just keep your eye on tomorrow. Work for it, and there’ll be nothing standing in the way. You understand?”
“I do.” I glanced over to where Megan waited. “A scholarship would be... It would help a lot.”
A way lot.
It would be nice not to spend a decade or more after college working myself out of student-loan hell I’d already been warned about.
“Then make it happen, Lena.” Coach Rogers dropped his hand. “You’re the only person standing in your way.”
* * *
“I don’t care what you say, Chloe was the better dancer!” Megan shrieked from where she was perched on the edge of my bed. I expected her hair to rise and turn into snakes at any given moment, to snatch out the eyeballs of anyone who disagreed with her.
Okay, maybe I was reading way too much fantasy lately.
“We seriously can’t be friends if you disagree!” she added vehemently.
“It’s not a question of who is a better dancer, but I personally think you’re going with the ‘blondes have to stick together’ route.” Abbi was sprawled on her belly on top of my bed. Her hair was a mess of tight, dark curls. “And honestly, I’m Team Nia.”
Megan frowned as she threw up her hands. “Whatever.”
My phone rang on my desk, and when I saw who it was, I sent the call to voice mail without even thinking twice.
Not today, Satan.
“Y’all really need to stop watching reruns of Dance Moms.” I turned back to my closet and restarted my search for a pair of shorts to wear on my shift. Smothering a yawn, I wished I had time for a nap, but Megan had come over after practice and I had only about an hour before I had to head to work.
“You look tore up from the floor up,” Abbi commented, and it took me a moment to realize she was talking about me. “Did you not sleep last night?”
“Wow. Thanks,” I responded, frowning. “Sebastian came home last night, so he stopped over and stayed for a while.”
“Ooh, Sebastian,” cooed Megan, clapping her hands. “Did he keep you up all night? Because if so, I’m going to be upset that you didn’t mention this earlier. I’m also going to want details. All the dirty, juicy details.”
Abbi snorted. “I seriously doubt there is any juicy or dirty details.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended by that statement or not,” I said.
“I just can’t see that happening,” Abbi replied with a lopsided shrug.
“I don’t know how you spend so much time with him and not want to jump on him like a rabid mountain lion in heat,” Megan mused. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”
I leaned my head back. “Wow.” My friends were kind of weird. Specifically Megan. “Aren’t you back with Phillip?”
“Kind of? Not sure. We’re talking.” Megan giggled. “Even if I were back with him, it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate that fine specimen of a guy living next door to you.”
“Have at it,” I muttered.
“Have you noticed how hot people flock together? Like all of Sebastian’s friends—Keith, Cody, Phillip. All of them are hot. It’s the same with Skylar and her friends. Kind of like birds migrating south for the winter,” Megan continued.
Abbi murmured under her breath, “What the hell?”
“Anyway, I’m not ashamed of my not-so-friendly thoughts toward Sebastian. Everyone has a crush on him,” Megan said. “I have a crush on him. Abbi has a crush on him—”
“What?” shouted Abbi. “I don’t have a crush on him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You have the hots for Keith. My bad.”
I twisted halfway to see Abbi’s reaction to that and I was not let down.
Abbi lifted up onto her elbows, turning her head toward Megan. If looks could kill, Megan’s entire family would’ve just died.
“I might seriously hit you, and since you weigh, like, eighty pounds wet and I have about a hundred on you, I’m going to snap you like a KitKat bar.”
I grinned as I turned back to my closet and dropped to my knees, rummaging through the books and jeans on the bottom of the narrow closet. “Keith’s cute, Abbi.”
“Yeah, he’s hot, but he’s also the school bike and everyone has had a ride,” she commented.
“I haven’t,” Megan said.
“Me neither.” Finding the cutoffs, I snagged them off the floor and rose. “Keith has been trying to get with you since you developed breasts.”
“Which was, like, the fifth grade.” Megan laughed as Abbi threw my poor pillow at her. “What? It’s the truth.”
Abbi shook her head. “Y’all are crazy. I don’t think Keith is into girls darker than your lily-white asses.”
I snorted as I dropped into the desk chair. The back bumped into the edge of the desk, rattling the stack of books. “I’m pretty sure Keith is into girls of all skin tones, shapes and sizes and then some,” I said, bending over and grabbing the pens and highlighters that had fallen from the desktop.
Abbi huffed. “Whatever. We are not talking about my nonexistent attraction to Keith.”
I turned to Abbi. “You know, Skylar stopped into Joanna’s last night and asked if Sebastian knew I was in love with him.” I forced out a casual-sounding laugh. “That’s crazy, right?”
Megan’s blue eyes widened to the size of planets. Not Pluto...more like Jupiter. “What?”
Abbi was also paying attention. “Details, Lena.”
I filled them in on what Skylar had to say last night. “It was just really weird.”
“Well, obviously she wants to get back with him.” Abbi looked thoughtful. “But why would she ask you that? Even if it was true, why would you admit that to her, his ex-girlfriend?”
“Right? I was thinking about that earlier.” I toed myself around in a slow circle on the chair. “I’ve been around her a lot because of her dating Sebastian, but it’s not like we’re friends. I wouldn’t admit my deepest secrets to her.”
Abbi tilted her head to the side and looked like she wanted to say something but kept quiet.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” Megan exclaimed as she dropped her feet to the floor, clearly on to the next topic. Pink flooded her heart-shaped face. “I heard that Cody and Jessica are seeing each other again.”
“Not surprised.” Cody Reece was the star quarterback. Sebastian was the star running back. Friendship made in football heaven right there. And Jessica was, well... She wasn’t particularly the nicest person I’d ever met.
“Didn’t Cody try to get with you at Keith’s party back in July?” Abbi asked, rolling onto her back.
I shot her a death glare more powerful than the Death Star’s laser. “I had forgotten all about that, so thanks for bringing that back up.”
“You’re welcome,” she quipped.
“I remember that party. Cody was super drunk.” Megan started twisting her hair in a rope, which she’d loved doing since we were kids. “He probably doesn’t even remember hitting on you, but you better hope Jessica doesn’t find out. That girl is territorial. She will make your senior year a living hell.”
I wasn’t really worried about Jessica, because, logically, how could she be that upset over Cody hitting on me at a party when they weren’t even together? That didn’t even make sense.
Megan cursed, jumping to her feet. “I was supposed to meet my mom ten minutes ago. She’s taking me back-to-school shopping, which really means she’s going to try to dress me like I’m still five.” She picked up her purse and then her gym bag. “By the way, it’s Friday, and don’t think I’ve forgotten my weekly reminder.”
I sighed heavily. Here we go...
“It’s time for you to get a boyfriend. Anyone really, at this point. And a real one, too. Not a book boyfriend.” She walked to my bedroom door.
I threw up my hands. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me having a boyfriend?”
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” mimicked Abbi.
I ignored it. “You do remember that I had one, right?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin. “Had. As in past tense.”
“Abbi doesn’t have a boyfriend!” I pointed out.
“We’re not talking about her. But I know why you aren’t interested in anyone.” She tapped the side of her head. “I know.”
“Oh my God.” I shook my head.
“Heed my words. Live a little. If you don’t, when you’re thirty and living alone with a ton of cats and eating tuna fish for dinner, you’ll regret it. Not even the good tuna fish. The generic kind steeped in oil. All because you spend every waking minute reading books while you could be out there, meeting the future daddy to your babies.”
“That’s a little excessive,” I murmured, side-eyeing her. “And what’s wrong with generic tuna fish in oil?” I looked over at Abbi. “It tastes better than when it’s soaked in water.”
“Agreed,” she replied.
“And I’m really not interested in meeting my future baby daddy,” I added. “I don’t even think I want kids. I’m seventeen. And kids weird me out.”
“You disappoint me,” Megan stated. “But I still love you, because I’m that good of a friend.”
“What would I do without you?” I gave myself a twirl in the chair.
“You’d be a basic bitch.” Megan gave me a cheeky grin.
I pressed my hand to my heart. “Ouch.”
“I’ve got to go.” She wiggled her fingers. “Text ya later.”
Then she flounced out of the room. Literally. Head back, arms flailing and prancing like a show horse.
* * *
“Talk about basic.” Abbi shook her head as she stared at the empty doorway.
“I will never understand her fascination with my singleness.” I looked at Abbi. “Like, at all.”
“Who knows with her.” Abbi paused. “So... I think my mom is screwing around on my dad.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”
Abbi stood and planted her hands on her hips. “Yeah. You heard me right.”
For a moment I didn’t know what to say and it took a couple of seconds to get my tongue to work. “Why do you think that?”
“Remember how I was telling you that her and Dad had been arguing more lately?” She walked over to the window that overlooked the backyard. “They try to keep it quiet so my brother and I don’t hear it, but it’s been getting pretty heated and Kobe is having nightmares now.”
Abbi’s brother was only five or six years old. Rough.
“I think they’ve been fighting over her working so late at the hospital and, you know, why she’s working so late. And I mean late, Lena. Like, how often are there call-ins that make other nurses stay? Is my dad that stupid?” She turned from the window, came back over to the bed and plopped down on the edge. “I was still up when she came home Wednesday night, four hours after her shift would’ve ended, and she looked a hot mess. Her hair was sticking up in every direction, clothes all wrinkled like she rolled out of someone’s bed and came home.”
My chest squeezed. “Maybe it was just a rough night at work for her.”
She shot me a bland look. “She smelled like cologne, and not the kind my dad wears.”
“That’s not...good.” I leaned forward in the chair. “Did she say anything to you when you saw her?”
“See, that’s the thing. She looked guilty. Wouldn’t look me in the eye. Couldn’t get out of the kitchen quick enough, and the first thing she did when she got upstairs was shower. And the whole showering thing might not be abnormal, but when you add all of that together...”
“Damn. I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, twisting my shorts in my hands. “Are you going to say anything?”
“What would I say? ‘Oh, hey, Dad, I think Mom is slutting around on you, so you might want to check on that’? I don’t see that ending well. And what if, by a snowball’s chance in hell, I’m wrong?”
I cringed. “Good point.”
She rubbed her hands over her thighs. “I don’t know what happened between them. They were happy up until about a year ago and it’s just all gone to shit.” Pushing her curls out of her face, she shook her head. “I just needed to tell someone.”
I toed my chair closer to her. “Understandable.”
A brief smile appeared. “Can we change the subject? I really don’t want to deal with this longer than five minutes at a time.”
“Sure.” I got that more than anyone else. “Whatever you want.”
She drew in a deep breath and then seemed to shake out all those thoughts. “So... Sebastian came home early.”
That wasn’t necessarily the conversation I wanted to go back to, but if Abbi wanted to use me as a distraction, I could be that for her. I shrugged and let my head fall back at the same moment my stupid heart did a giddy little flip.
“Were you happy to see him?” she asked.
“Sure,” I replied, going for my usual bored tone when talking about Sebastian.
“Where’s he at now?”
“At the school. They’ve got a scrimmage game tonight. He’s not playing, but they’ve probably got him practicing.”
“You’re working this weekend?” she asked.
“Yeah, but this is my last weekend for a while, since school starts. Why? You want to do something?”
“Of course. Better than being stuck on babysitting duty at home and listening to my parents bitching at one another.” Abbi nudged my leg with her sandaled foot. “You know, I hate to even point this out, but do you think Skylar might’ve had a point asking—”
“About me and Sebastian? No. What? That’s stupid.”
A doubtful look crossed her face. “You don’t love Sebastian at all?”
My heart started pounding in my chest. “Of course I love him. I love you and Dary, too. I even love Megan.”
“But you didn’t love Andre—”
“No. I didn’t.” Closing my eyes, I thought about my ex even though I really didn’t want to. We’d dated almost all last year, and Abbi was right: Andre was awesome and nice, and I felt like a jerk for ending things with him. But I tried, really tried, even by taking it to the next level—the level—but my interest just wasn’t there. “It wasn’t working out.”
She was quiet for a moment. “You know what I think?”
I let my arms fall to my sides. “Something wise and sage?”
“Those two words mean the same thing, idiot.” She kicked my leg again. “If you’re not being entirely honest with yourself about Sebastian, then applying to UVA is a smart idea.”
“What does he have to do with UVA?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Are you saying it’s a coincidence that the one school that’s not high on his list is the one school you’re gunning for?”
Stunned into silence, I wasn’t sure what to say. Abbi had never insinuated that I was interested in Sebastian beyond being friends before. I was confident I’d kept that embarrassing yearning desire well hidden, but obviously not as well as I believed. First Skylar, who really didn’t know me, and now Abbi, who did?
“UVA is an awesome school and has an amazing anthropology department.” I opened my eyes and my gaze fixed on the cracked plaster of the ceiling.
Abbi’s voice softened. “You’re not...hiding again, are you?”
The back of my throat burned as I pressed my lips together. I knew what she was talking about, and it had nothing to do with Sebastian. It had everything to do with the missed call earlier. “No,” I told her. “I’m not.”
She was quiet for a moment and then said, “Are you really going to wear those shorts to work? You look like a low-rent Daisy Duke in them.”
* * *
At Keith’s. You coming out?
The text from Sebastian came just as I was pulling into my driveway after my Friday shift. While I normally didn’t pass up an opportunity to hang with Sebastian, I was feeling a little weird after the whole conversation with Abbi. Plus I was exhausted, so I was ready to climb under the covers and lose myself for a little while in a book.
Staying in tonight, I texted back.
He promptly replied with the smiling poop emoticon.
Grinning, I replied with Turd.
The triple dots appeared and then, You going to be up later?
Maybe. I climbed out of the car and headed toward the front door.
Then maybe I’ll swing by.
My stomach dipped as it twisted. I knew what that meant. Sometimes Sebastian snuck over really late, usually when something was going down at home he didn’t want to deal with...that something usually being his dad.
And I knew, I knew deep down, that even with all the years he’d been dating Skylar, he’d never done that with her. When something was troubling him, he sought me out, and I knew I shouldn’t have been thrilled about that, but I was. And I held that knowledge close to my heart.
I followed the low hum of the TV, passing through the small entry room that was overflowing with umbrellas and sneakers and the small table piled with unopened mail.
The glow of the TV cast soft, flickering light over the couch. Mom was curled up on her side, one hand shoved under a throw pillow. She was out cold.
Stepping around the love seat, I grabbed the afghan off the back of the couch and carefully draped it over Mom. As I straightened, I thought about what Abbi had told me earlier. I had no idea if her mom was cheating on her dad, but I thought about my mom and how she would’ve never cheated on Dad. The mere thought almost made me laugh, because she loved him like the sea loved the sand. He’d been her universe, her sun that rose in the morning and the moon that took over the night sky. She loved Lori and me, but she had loved Dad more.
But Mom’s love wasn’t enough. My and my sister’s love was never enough. In the end, Dad still left us. All of us.
And, God help me, I was a lot like my father.
I looked like him, except I was more of an...average version. Same mouth. Same strong nose that was almost too big for my face. Same hazel-colored eyes, more brown than any other interesting shade. My hair matched his, a brown that sometimes turned auburn in the sunlight, and it was on the long side, falling past my breasts. My body was neither thin nor overweight. I was somewhere stuck in the middle. I wasn’t tall or short. I was just...
Average.
Not like my mom, though. She was stunning, all blond hair and flawless skin. Even though life had gotten way harder in the last five years, she persevered and that made her all the more beautiful. Mom was strong. She never gave up, no matter what, even if there were moments where she looked like she just might want to pack it all in.
For Mom, our love was enough to keep going.
Lori got the blessed side of our genetics, taking after Mom. Blonde bombshell to the max, with all the curves and pouty lips to back it up.
But the similarities ran deeper than the physical for me.
I was a runner, too, and not the healthy kind. When things got too rough, I checked out, just like Dad had. I made an art form of looking toward tomorrow instead of focusing on today.
But I was also like my mother. She was a chaser. Always running after someone who didn’t even realize you were there. Always waiting for someone who was never going to come back.
It was like I ended up with the worst qualities of my parents.
Heaviness settled in my chest as I went upstairs and got ready for bed. This November would be four years since Dad left. I couldn’t believe it had already been that long. Still felt like yesterday in a lot of ways.
Throwing back the covers on my bed, I started to climb in but stopped when my gaze fell on the doors leading out to the balcony. I should lock the doors. Sebastian probably wouldn’t stop by, and besides, even if he did, that...that wasn’t good.
Maybe that was why no one else interested me.
Why Andre hadn’t kept my interest.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I sighed. Maybe I was just being dumb. How I felt about Sebastian couldn’t change our relationship. It shouldn’t. Putting a little distance between us, setting up some boundaries, wouldn’t be a bad idea. It was probably the smartest and healthiest thing to do, because I didn’t want to be a runner or a chaser.
I was moving off the bed before I realized what I was doing.
I walked over to the doors and unlocked them with a soft click.