You, Me, and All The Spaces In-between

CHAPTER 43

On Friday night, Martin picked me up in his Dad's old blue convertible and drove me to school for Ky's softball final.

At first it was a tad awkward; soft indie music was emitting from the stereo, and I turned it up louder to fill the silence.

But then Martin cleared his throat and said, "I haven't seen Ky play in a while. Have you?"

I shook my head. "No. It'll be good to watch her tonight."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it. Remember when she was first getting into softball-"

"And she'd make us practice with her?" I broke in, laughing.

"Yeah." Martin laughed too, pushing the hair from his forehead. He had one hand on the wheel, and the other tapped rhythmically against the open window. It was a cold night, so chill wind blew across my face, but it had a sharp, refreshing bite to it. "She was so terrible at the start. She gave me a blood nose."

I laughed harder at that. "Oh my god, there was so much blood."

Martin grinned sheepishly. "I thought I was dying."

"Hey, I like this song," I said suddenly, jolting upright.

Martin smiled in approval and turned the stereo up louder. We both nodded along to the beat, and I felt the awkwardness between us melt away.

"I used to make you listen to all those playlists," Martin sighed wistfully as the song ended. "Glad you finally acquired some taste."

I gave him a playful nudge with my shoulder. "Excuse me, my taste was just fine."

"Mmmhmm, sure." Martin smirked. "Keep telling yourself that."

He pulled into the parking lot, and I climbed out and stood by the car door. Frost littered the pavement, and the street lights shone starkly through the cold night air.

In this light, Grammarville was almost...pretty.

"C'mon." Martin locked the car with a flick of his keys and motioned for me to follow as he walked away. "Let's go watch this game."

- - - -

Unlike football games, Ky's games were held in the gym, which was perfectly fine by me. It was heated, for a start, and there was something less intimidating about sitting on the makeshift bleachers in the gym.

It felt less exposed than the cold metal bleaches on the field.

When Martin and I entered, Robert was sitting at the back, texting on his phone. Softball games were decidedly less packed, and there were plenty of spaces open on the bleaches.

"Hey," he said as we settled beside him, not looking up. "You'll be happy to know my overbearing, sadistic father no longer thinks I'm a football superstar."

I merely shook my head. "Care to elaborate?"

Robert switched his phone off and turned to meet my gaze. "So, I was sitting in my room, and he walks in while I'm doing homework-had no idea he was home, by the way-and he just says "You don't actually play football, do you?" So I say, "No." And he just walks out."

I whistled. "Wow. That was like, a whole journey. Congrats."

He shrugged, huffing a laugh. "He did go pour himself a very large shot straight afterward, but I think he'll be just fine."

"Robert," I said, with genuine sincerity, "if you need to talk about it, I'm here."

"I know." Robert smiled. "I'm just gonna take it one day at a time."

I could definitely get on board with that.

"To one day at a time," I agreed, raising an imaginary shot.

Martin placed a can in my cupped hand. "To Ky's victory," he said, "and to the hope she won't beat us up if she loses."

I grinned and clinked my can against his.

"I'll drink to that."

- - - -

Ky's game ended up being pretty close. By three-quarter time, the score was tied, and both teams were pretty unhappy about it.

"Ky looks mad," Robert mused. I followed his gaze to where she stood by the sidelines, pacing with her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that."

Martin nodded meaningfully. "The other team better watch out."

He turned to me suddenly and added, "Hey, Alyx...Can I talk to you about something?"

I shifted along the bench as someone sat beside me, trying to focus my attention Martin. "Yeah," I said, running a hand through my hair. "What's up?"

"So, like..." Martin glanced at his feet, looking uncomfortable. "About this Cash thing-"

I groaned. "Can we just let it go? I need to try and not think about it."

"Why not?" Robert asked, with genuine curiosity.

I frowned at him. "The more I think about it," I clarified, "the worse I feel."

"It seems to me," Martin mused, "that you're not, ah...entirely over him?"

"Yeah..." I admitted. "I think it's gonna take a while."

"Why's that?" Martin prompted.

I scoffed, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "He's Cash Smith," I said emphatically, raising my brows for emphasis. "He's charming, and smooth, and charismatic...he's...he's..."

"He's what?"

A deep voice sounded behind me.

I straightened at once, fixing my stare on Martin. "Is he...?"

"Behind you?" Cash's undeniable drawl sounded a second time. "Yep."

I turned slowly, startling as I came face-to-face with Cash Smith.

His grin was infuriatingly cavalier.

"Hey, Miller."

A/N: Thanks for reading!