What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know (Boyxboy)

Chapter 33

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Chapter. 33

N A T H E N

"Alright boys!" Coach shouted over all of the chattering. "Everyone, form a line in front of the bus so we can get all your luggage packed up! No pushing! Guys come on, you're practically adults for god's sake!" He blew the whistle once more, startling a few of us

We all waited in a very un-organized 'line' to throw our belongings in the luggage compartment. Some of the guys literally had to work together to get their stuff inside, and others just simply had a small backpack to toss in. I was waiting around with Dave, Mitchell and Sam.

"Yo man, we should be on the road by now!" Dave complained. "But these guys take longer than girls do!"

Sam snickered. "Bro, calm down. It's only nine-thirty."

"Yeah? Suck my left nut." David smirked, smacking Sam in the back of the head. As the guys started bickering, I found myself constantly looking around the parking lot, trying to find Trevor.

He wasn't here yet.

"Has anybody seen Trevor?" I shouted over all the noise. A few of the guys shook their heads, while Brock and Mark M looked confused.

"He should have been here an hour ago," Stephen mused, checking his phone. "Didn't he say anything to you, Nate?"

I shook my head. Coach looked over, and checked his clipboard.

"Where in God's name is Daly? Don't you people use your damn cell phones around here?"

Nobody answered.

"Well?" Coach snapped. "Someone call the damn boy! Tell him to get his fancy ass over here right now, because the bus is leaving in twenty minutes!" He rolled his eyes, and walked away muttering something under his breath.

I whipped my phone out, and quickly found him in my contacts to dial him up. Putting the phone to my ear, I listened to the rings. Once. Twice.

Six times.

"Is he answering?" Mitchell asked. I shook my head, starting to worry. Trevor is never late. He's always right on time, no matter what the occasion is. The fact that he's late right now, when we're about to leave to go to Philadelphia for a football tournament? That's beyond weird for him.

"WELL, DAWSON?" Coach barked. "What's the deal?"

I opened my mouth, and shrugged my shoulders. "Coach, I don't know!"

Suddenly, there were a few sighs of relief, and quirking a brow I looked over my shoulder, only to see Trevor heading over to the crowd, a big bag slung over his shoulders.

"Dude!" Stephen said, surprised. "What's the big idea?"

Trevor was out of breath when he approached us, and held up his finger for us to give him a minute to calm down.

"Sorry," he finally said, breathless. "Rough morning." I could see that, too. His hair was messy, falling in his eyes, which is usually not how he has it. He also had dark shadows under his eyes, along with extremely tired eyes, the brown orbs slightly faded.

"Jesus Christ, Daly," Coach muttered, quickly checking his name off in the attendance. "I was about to send a search party out for you."

I rolled my eyes.

"No, Coach, I'm here now. Like I said, sorry."

I looked at him, and he returned the gaze. I wanted to say something, anything, but when I noticed a certain glint in his eyes - almost emptiness, I kept my mouth shut.