Like that’s even an option.
It doesn’t matter. They’re way off base.
“Or maybe,” Brooke counters, “all the fighting and bickering they were doing in the weight room a few weeks ago was foreplay.” She turns to me with a hopeful expression. “Please tell me it was foreplay.”
“It’s not like that,” I snap, curling my fingers so my nails dig into the soft flesh of my palms. “Parker and I are not a thing, and we never will be. We hooked up freshman year and the sex—if you can even call it that—was lousy. And the cherry on the shit-tastic sundae? The pendejo called me Summer because he couldn’t even remember my freaking name.” A fresh wave of humiliation washes over me and tears sting my eyes. “The following week, he looked right through me like I wasn’t even there. But please, continue speculating about his talent in the bedroom.”
There’s a collective gasp and then Maddie’s wrapping her arms around me, giving me a tight squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
Now that the words are out, it’s like a weight’s been lifted from my chest. For the first time in a long time, I can breathe easily because I don’t have to evade or hide or omit the truth.
“We all are,” Soraya says, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“We didn’t know,” Brooke adds, looking contrite and suddenly very sober.
“You couldn’t have.” Maddie releases me and I straighten. “Because I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want anyone to know. It was too embarrassing.”
And it hurt more than it should have, considering I was used to being overlooked and overshadowed. Used to coming second to my sister. At home, it was always about Gabby’s schedule and Gabby’s training and Gabby’s stupid choreography.
Why had I expected things at Waverly to be any different?
I exhale, blinking back the tears. “At least now you know why I don’t like football.”
“You mean the stupidest, most overrated, over hyped sport at Waverly?” Soraya asks.
Brooke frowns, pensive. “The one with all those obnoxious, narcissistic jockholes?”
“That’s the one,” Maddie agrees, nodding emphatically.
A new kind of warmth fills my chest at the show of solidarity. Before I came to Waverly, I didn’t have close friends. Not real ones, anyway. The knowledge just reinforces my decision to forgo elite gymnastics and compete at the collegiate level.
“Gracias.” I look at my teammates, meeting each of their eyes. “I really couldn’t ask for better friends.”
“We know,” Brooke says, dusting off her shoulder. “We’re kickass like that.”
I laugh and spread my arms for a group hug and when we finally pull apart, I’m determined to let them finish the night on a high note.
It’s the least I can do after laying my troubles at their feet mid-party.
Timing never was your strong suit.
“Enough about Parker.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts.If only it were that easy. “That pendejo isn’t getting another second of my time or headspace.”
The girls’ eyes go wide as someone taps me on the shoulder, and when I turn to see who it is, my stomach goes into freefall.
Parker.
His full lips are pressed into a grim line, and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, giving him a totally broody, totally hot vibe.
Mierda. How much did he hear?
Enough, judging by the look on his face.
My suspicions are confirmed when he grinds out, “We need to talk.”
18
PARKER
