“Maybe.” I kick off my sneakers and stand up straight as I unstrap my phone holder from my upper arm. “I just don’t get why he’s being nice to me, because it seems like whenever I talk to him, I’m annoying the crap out of him. Not that he’s necessarily in the wrong for that. I’m kind of a smartass.”
“You’re not that bad,” she quips with a smirk. “At least, sometimes.”
I flip her the middle finger, and we both laugh.
Then I sigh heavily. “Fine, I’ll go to him and see if he can give me any pointers on how to better my chances of getting onto the team.”
“Good.” She smiles at me as she slants back on the sofa. “Let me know how it goes. Oh, and I was told that if your ankle hurts, ice it.”
I give her a salute and head into my room to grab some clean clothes so I can take a shower. The entire time, I can’t stop thinking about why River is being … nice-ish. Even though it makes me a freak, I’m suspicious of it.
Maybe I’ve lived on northside for too long, but from my experience, people who are nice usually want something from you.
CHAPTER 12
MADDISON
I usedto loathe the first day of school. Like I mentioned before, I never had a ton of friends, so walking into the school hallways all by myself was the equivalent of getting shoved into a locker, something that happened to me in middle school. No, I take that back. That day wasn’t that awful because I got to avoid all the school drama. Right now, I wish lockers lined the shiny, overly polished hallway because then I’d shove myself into one.
I have to remind myself multiple times that I chose to attend this school.
Guys keep smirking at me, for what, who the hell knows? And don’t even get me started on the girls throwing me dirty looks. Not all of them, of course, but it’s enough to make me feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin.
Thankfully, I’m a pro at the whole I-give-zero-craps attitude and manage to hold my head up high to my first class of the day. I try to keep a casual vibe for my outfit, sporting baggy jeans and a gray top that reaches just above my belly button. I have a few tattoos; one on my arm, another on my side, and the final one is on my leg, but none of them are on display. My hair is in a ponytail, and I rocked my scuffed boots. Again, it’s evident I’mfrom northside, but what else am I supposed to do? Hide who I am? No, thanks. And I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
“Hey, new girl,” a guy calls out as I stroll into class, adjusting my backpack. He has blond hair and the body of a football player. He’s also donning a grin as he leans over and pats the seat beside him. “I saved you a seat.”
“Hard pass,” I reply then veer toward an empty seat that’s as far away from him as possible and plop down into it.
“Well, that was rude.” Humor rings in his tone. “I saved you a seat, and you blow me off? Do you even know who I am?” His voice is growing closer, which means he’s walking toward me.
I ignore him, but I’m on guard, my fingers curled into fist. If I have to hit him, I will.
“Porter, leave her alone,” another voice joins the conversation, deep and male and recognizable.
I sigh. River. What is this guy’s deal with me?
“Why does it matter to you?” the blond guy replies.
“That’s none of your damn business,” River tells him in a glacial tone. “Now go sit the hell down.”
This causes me to twist around in my seat. Up until this point, I thought River was a quiet, brooding sort of guy. He has an intense side to him, too, that he likes to display.
Today, he’s wearing gray pants and a black short-sleeved shirt. Like every other time I’ve seen him, his dark hair is dangling in his eyes. He’s also standing right behind me and glaring at the blond dude, who has his hands raised in front of him and backs away.
River continues to glower until Blondie sits his ass back down. Then he turns to me with his lips parted.
“Don’t ask me if I’m okay,” I speak first. “I can handle assholes. I’ve been doing it my entire life.” I twist back around in the chair.
I’m sitting in the middle row. The seats are staggered, like in a stadium, only this room is much smaller. The ceiling is high arched with beams, and bookshelves line the walls. Fitting since it’s American Literature.
“I wasn’t going to ask you if you were okay about Porter.” River hesitates before sitting down in the chair beside me. “I was going to check and make sure your ankle is okay.”
“It’s fine. Your sister said you texted and asked if I was okay.” I pause then add, “Thanks for checking on me.”
Amusement flashes across his face.
“What?” I wonder if I have pieces of bagel stuck in my teeth or something.
