Extra Credit | Complete

29

Calista

The music at The Underground was booming. It vibrated through me until I could no longer distinguish between the sound and the beating of my own heart. It was a deep house mix that reminded me of the night Lincoln called me and asked if I could bring Sadie home for the first time. It was maybe a month ago at this point, but it felt like forever.

It was such an odd sensation; knowing everything and nothing about Lincoln at the same time. He held his walls up high, but there were cracks beginning to forge in the armour he wore so well.

I poked at the ice in my glass with a thin black straw.

From what Andrew mentioned on our walk across campus, visiting The Underground was a post-match tradition. It wouldn't be too far-fetched for me to believe that they had been celebrating down here that night that he asked me to bring Sadie home. Perhaps he saw the perfect opportunity and took advantage of it—a night of partying and no responsibility.

Harper's cautionary words replayed in the back of my head before I could bat them away. Maybe he had been trying to pawn some of his responsibilities on me at one point. 'Taking advantage of my kindness' as Harper had called it. She made sense. She always did. But something deep down told me Lincoln wasn't that kind of person. It took him forever to accept my help and even longer for him to trust me with Sadie. He wouldn't hand her off at the first ripe opportunity.

That's why as much as I wanted to write off the kiss we shared the other night, part of me wanted to believe it was something. It sure felt like something. I reeled at the thought of his hands on my thighs, his thick, coiled muscles pressed against me. Lincoln didn't seem like the kind of guy to get with girls for the fun of it.

But what if I was wrong?

I leaned forward on the bar, resting my head in an open palm. Letting out a sigh, I analyzed the remnants of melting ice cubes. My senior year was meant to involve me focusing on getting into Fenton's grad program for my masters. Not wallowing in the bar over a boy.

As I was swirling my drink around a warm body slid in next to my stool. I didn't need to look away from my half-empty glass to know who it was. The scent of Ella's floral perfume wafted over me and, while I normally found the scent overbearing, it was a welcome change from the B.O. emitting from the guy on my right.

Ella made herself comfortable, standing with her back against the bar counter. She collected her blonde hair over her slender shoulder before leaning back on her elbows.

"Okay, what's going on?" Ella questioned, her sharp eyes pinning me to where I sat.

I tried putting off my response by taking an extra long sip of my rum and coke. "What do you mean?"

"You and Lincoln can barely make eye contact. What happened between you two?"

"Nothing happened," I replied. I swivelled in my seat to stare off into the bodies gyrating on the dance floor.

She took a sip of her own drink before raising an eyebrow. "You really expect me to believe that?"

My tongue lapped at my bottom lip. "I was hoping you would."

I was never very good at lying. Even when I was in elementary school, my classmates refused to tell me secrets because I wouldn't be able to lie when asked what everyone was whispering about. I didn't blame them. It was in their best interest.

But that's probably why Ella was able to sniff it out within a few minutes of Lincoln and I being in the same room. The woman was too well versed in romance novels not to spot the clues.