Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
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"What the fuck is going on out there? This is embarrassing. Is this your first little league game, ladies?" Coach slaps his clipboard against the locker, sending a loud crash echoing through the silent visitor's locker room.
The only sound left is the heavy breathing of my teammates, and I look away from Coach, who's starting to turn an angry shade of red. My eyes find the floor, watching the sweat from my face drop down to the tile as I sit with my elbows on my thighs. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, making my knee bounce in place, and all I can think about is how badly I want to fuck up Ty Marcus and how grateful I am that Micah and James got to me before I could actually do any real damage.
Luke's own bouncing leg is shaking the bench beside me. I don't have to look up to know he's wearing the same scowl that I am because I can feel his pissed-off energy building on top of my own. We've both been antsy all day, and I could feel his anxiety building the entire car ride up here.
I usually wouldn't have minded the forty-minute ride to the University of Central Washington, especially since it's always exhilarating to sit in the passenger seat of Luke's expensive ass sports car while he fucking sends it on the highway. But no matter how fast he pushed it, I couldn't stop thinking about Abby.
She texted me last night that she felt sick and needed to skip our FaceTime call, which isn't a big deal, but when she showed up to chem this morning looking pale and shaky, I knew something was wrong.
I couldn't ask her about it, though, because Hannigan started to pass out a quiz the second she sat down. I finished it in a few minutes and sat there watching her struggle through the fifteen questions. She kept second-guessing herself. Filling in an answer and then erasing. Filling in a new answer and then erasing. I wanted to just take her damn eraser away because, for the most part, she was getting it right on the first try. I couldn't sit there and watch her erase her entire test for the third time, or I was going to go crazy, so I dropped off my quiz with Hannigan and waited in the hall for her.
It took her twenty more minutes to finally walk out, and when I slipped my phone back into my pocket and fell into step beside her, she didn't look up at me.
"How do you think you did?"
Her eyes were still fixed on her bag as she rifled through it. "I have no idea. It made sense, and then my mind kind of fogged up, and I felt like I forgot a step, but I couldn't remember what it was, so, I don't know." She gave up searching her bag and readjusted it on her shoulder as she led us toward the door.
"Wait," I said, stopping in the middle of the walkway. A few people looked up at me curiously as they passed by, but Abby didn't meet my eyes as she stood next to me. Instead, she absently searched the passing crowd around us, and that's when I realized that she was trying to avoid me. "Can we talk for a minute? I mean, you look—I know you said you didn't feel good; I just want to make sure you're okay."
The muscles in my neck tensed the second her eyes flicked up to mine because I recognized that look. It was the same look she had when she walked into my house crying. The same look that's burned into my mind like a fucking brand.
