Chapter Thirty
Kassidy
#15—Earn a medal
When he glances up at me, his face is hard, his lips in a tight line.
“Who was it?” I ask, wary.
“Ross. He wanted to know how you did in your race.”
I nod, unsure of why he’s so upset about this.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Kassidy?”
My stomach lurches. I shake my head.
“I know you’ve been messaging my brother.”
That’s what this is about? “Just to say thank you for the tickets.”
“And what about today?”
I take a deep breath, my face hot. “It’s my first meet. I had some questions, and I know he used to run track.”
“Then why keep it from me?”
The frustration that’s been simmering since the first day Ross and I became Facebook friends boils into full-blown anger. Archer’s reaction to all this is getting old. “I didn’t realize I had to get your permission before I could talk to other people.”
“This isn’t other people. This is my brother.” His face is red, splotchy. I’ve never seen him like this before. Agitated, he runs a hand through his hair. “Every girl I’ve ever liked has had a thing for Ross. But I thought you were different.”
“I am,” I say earnestly. “I can’t believe you don’t know that.”
“I thought I did. When I first met you, you didn’t even know who he was,” he says. “You weren’t a fan.”
And there it is. The thing I’ve feared since the beginning of our relationship. I back away from him, shaking my head. “That’s the only reason you went out with me, isn’t it? Because I didn’t know who your brother was. It’s the reason you’ve chosen me over Tiffany and Ella. Not because you like me more. It’s because you thought I was safe.”
“No.” His eyes flash. He steps toward me, but I move back, trembling.
“This has nothing to do with me,” I say. “This has to do with you and your jealousy of your brother.”
“Don’t turn this around on me,” he snaps. “You were the one friending him and messaging him. You made me believe you couldn’t care less about him, but clearly that wasn’t true.”
It’s like he’s punched me in the gut. My mouth drops. “Unbelievable.” I throw my hands up. “If you really think that, then what are we doing? Why are you even here?”
“Good question.”
The air escapes me. Defeated, I let my shoulders slump. “Then maybe you should leave.”
Say no, I silently plead. Say you’ll stay. That you don’t want to leave.
“Maybe I will.” He lifts his head defiantly.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. Staring at him, I will him to make the next move.
“Fine. I’m outta here.” With one last disgusted shake of his head, he whirls around.
I hold my breath, hoping he’ll change his mind. When he stops in his tracks, desperation blooms in my chest. Spinning, he faces me, and I bite my lip.
Holding up his phone, he says, “Feel free to message Ross back about your race.”
It’s the last straw. I blow out the breath I’d been holding, my insides withering. “I’m not interested in your brother. I never have been.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he says darkly. After shoving his phone into the pocket of his jeans, he storms off.
Every step he takes slices through my heart. Once he’s out of sight, I slump against the wall and allow the tears to slip down my cheeks.
…
I’m stunned when my name is called. Second place? Really? I hadn’t expected it. Not in my first race. Heart thumping, I make my way across the field. It’s the first time I’m not freaked about everyone staring at me. As the medal is placed around my neck, a smile sweeps across my face. My chest swells.
They’ve moved on to another winner, but I don’t even register what is being said. In my mind, I keep hearing my name being called, over and over again. It’s something I never thought would happen. Not in a million years.
Lifting the medal, I hold it in between my fingers. It’s heavy.
I can’t wait to show it to Archer. Biting my lip, I glance up at the stands. And that’s when it hits me.
He’s not here.
The elation I felt a moment ago deflates like a leaking balloon. My smile slips. I drop the medal. It clangs against my chest.
I look at where Archer stood earlier holding that sign. In that moment, I’d felt so lucky. If only he were here now. I imagine him smiling at me, flashing a thumbs-up. Maybe he’d even take me into his arms, tell me he was proud.
But none of that would happen.
Not now.
My shoulders sag; my stomach twists. All around, people are cheering, congratulating their friends and family members.
But not me. I’m all alone.