I didn’t lose once today. I lost twice.
Sneakers squeak on the tile behind me and the heat of Mallory’s stare warms the back of my neck. I press the frosty glass to my cheek and realize that even ice isn’t enough to counteract her intensity.
“Did you come in here to brag?” I ask.
“Yes, then Shay reminded me that I smacked the absolute hell out of you and told me I should check on you.” She clears her throat, and I feel her hesitate. “Are you okay?”
Oh.I catch myself smiling at her softened tone. It’s not one I’m usually on the receiving side of.
“I’m fine, Eddie. Not many people could survive a power smash from you, so I’m considering myself lucky to be one of the few.”
Instead of laughing at my joke, which she never does, she makes a command.
“Turn around, Gray.”
The smell of warm vanilla fills my nose when I do. She’s closer than I expect, and my breath hitches when her chest grazes mine as she leans in to inspect the sore spot between my eyes.
“Ouch. That looks painful. You should put some ice on it.”
I swallow hard and force my eyes away from her. “It’ll be red for the next three to five business days. Remember, pale as a vampire.” Another desperate attempt to make her laugh, but all humor is sucked out of the kitchen when her finger brushes over the sore spot. Every morsel of pain somehow disappears too.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know I can get a little… intense.”
Mallory’s cutthroat energy is one of my favorite things about her. I consider myself fortunate to see it up close, even at the expense of my own safety.
“While I’m here,” she continues, stepping back to grab an icepack from the freezer before handing it over. “I might as well brag since I did win. We’re tied again, 9-9. I’m one point closer to junior year being mine.”
“Relax, Eddie. We’ve got an entire semester ahead of us,” I huff out, pressing the icepack to my forehead. “Five months is a long time. Anything could happen.”
Like losing everything I’ve worked so hard for. Like losing her.
I follow the comet of color to the front door. Mallory’s head falls back at something Cade says, and a sliver of jealousy tugs at the knot in my stomach. That type of joy is never aimed at me.
“See you at the next point opportunity, Gray!” she calls over her shoulder, and the words remind me of my place in her life. My time with Mallory has always been limited to the game and the game only.
And it makes me sadder than usual this time.
Chapter Four
I’m jinxed. Doomed. Cursed.Whatever you want to call it. My parents gifted me this bad omen on the day I was born, and I’ve been rolling with the punches ever since.
The name Malloryliterallymeans unlucky.
I’ve coped with my poor fate by meticulously planning my entire life in my sparkly teal planner. Every appointment, meeting, class, hangout, practice, game, and goal is written inside. Color-coded too. I treat the expensive stack of paper like a source of good luck to keep misfortune away. However, no amount of planning will help if the goddess of fortune is not on your side.
And Fortuna is hardly on mine.
I was reminded of this cruel reality when I walked outside for class this morning to find my car’s tire flat against the sidewalk. It isn’t even eight in the morning, and the first day of class is already going downhill.
Hooking my backpack over my shoulders, I blow Shay a wet kiss for driving me to class before I dash into the public health building and climb four flights of stairs in record time. Standing outside the classroom, I check my watch. Three minutes to spare.
Being late is not a part of my brand. My motto is to show up on time or don’t even bother showing up at all.
Relief swells as I notice familiar faces in the small science lab. Beverly from sophomore organic chemistry waves. Gerald from freshman business management lifts his chin. Debra from last semester’s microbiology lab gives me a shy smile. Sadly, all of them are already sitting with other people.
Great. I may not be late, but I’m the last to arrive.
When an empty seat in the middle of the room catches my eye, I shuffle toward it, thankful nobody is watching my almost-late walk of shame.
