Tony has been putting us through hell ever since the game the other night, whether it’s because he blames us, or because he’s taking his own feelings out on us… I’m not sure.
Either way, it sucks.
She hasn’t been home since the whole thing, hasn’t talked to any of us, hasn’t answered any of our texts. It’s killing me inside knowing that she’s suffering and we aren’t there to help.
It’s basically our fault though. We pushed her away, we were the ones to ignore her, the ones to make her feel like she wasn’t worth listening to.
Claire became a part of this group. She fit in effortlessly, went along with our shit and helped us when we needed it. She had our backs, and when it really counted, we didn’t have hers.
“Davis, get your head out of your ass and apply some fucking pressure,” Coach screams at me.
Lucas checks me into the boards a second later. The jackass has the audacity to wink before skating off with the puck and going for the goal.
I love the guy, but I want to throttle him right now. Not only because he got the best of me, but also because he couldn’t see the situation for what it really was and made the rest of us think Claire had betrayed us. We flipped on her the first chance we got, without so much as giving her a chance to speak her peace… and look where that got us.
Every girl on campus throws themselves at him —well,all of us, but mostly him. For whatever reason, that dirty blonde hair and deep brown eyes pull them in. Hockey captainship doesn’t hurt either.
August and Blair take their place on the ice while Lucas and I skate back to the bench. I squirt water through my cage and into my mouth, trying to hide the annoyance crawling under my skin.
I watch as my friends battle for the puck, Blair pushing August to work his hardest.
August is a grumpy asshole most of the time, he’s like a grandpa stuck in a ridiculously attractive twenty-something body. The guy looks like an irishman on crack, fire red hair and blue eyes are a deadly combo, especially for someone who doesn’t really care all that much about girls. He’s massive, but it’s pure muscle, and even though I piss him off cause I think it’s funny… I would never want to go head-to-head with the guy. He’d snap me like a twig.
“I know there’s a lot going on, but you gotta focus man,” Lucas says quietly, pulling me from my thoughts and eyeing the rest of the team to make sure they can’t hear.
“I’m just tired,” I grunt, pretending like everything these last couple of days hasn’t completely destroyed me.
It’s not a complete lie, Iamtired. I’m always tired though, always waiting for the day to end so I can go to sleep and forget about all my problems.
The worst feeling in the world is telling people exactly what’s happening to you, and they still don’t listen. I’m afraid that even if I scream in their faces that I’m drowning, they won’t listen, and instead watch me slowly die from afar.
But the real reason why I’m distracted is because Sasha Price walked into our Roman history class looking like a fucking bombshell. Cropped jean shorts showed off everyinch of those long, tattooed, porcelain legs, and her ass peeked out just enough to have me rearranging myself in the fucking lecture hall.
I was basically a puddle on the floor. I couldn’t focus on a single thing our professor was saying, she took every single brain cell I have and locked them away in a tiny little box.
She cut her hair recently too, it’s cropped above her shoulders now. The edges are rough, like she cut it herself, but I think it looks good.
To be fair, I think everything looks good when it comes to her.
How every single guy wasn’t drooling over her, I’ll never know.
There was this look in her eyes though, like she was dead inside. I’ve never seen her look like that. The bags and dark circles make me think she hasn’t been sleeping. She’s lost weight, not enough to cause any alarm, but enough to make me question if she’s been eating properly.
Sure, she looked run down and hopeless after her brother died, but even that was nothing compared to the way she looks now.
I’m worried about the damn girl, and I don’t even know her.
You should be worried about your so-called friend, a voice whispers.
Even with everything going on in my life —withmyfriends— I still search for her in the crowd. She’s the best part of my day, the only time I feel the weight of the world lift off my shoulders, even if it’s only for an hour or two.
What I wouldn’t give to have one conversation with her, I feel like it would solve each and every one of my problems.
Lucas gives me a skeptical look, “whatever you say.” He skates off to grab some water, giving me a second to breathe.
The light-switch flips off, my smile falters, and I feel the crushing weight of depression fill my lungs.
One second.
