Thirty-Five
I packmy things for the Red Tail game tomorrow, ignoring the nerves in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t talked to Lucca in five days. Things were getting out of hand, and I think we both needed some distance and perspective.
Yet, I keep thinking about what he said about his mom and his grandmother all those days ago. His behavior with women makes sense, almost like a defense mechanism. What doesn’t make sense is that he’s ready to lift that defense for me.
Lindy taps on my bedroom door before poking her head inside. “Getting ready for your game already?”
“Yeah. I’ve got that referee meeting tonight, too. Remember?”
“I remember.” Lindy tugs on the end of her blonde braid. “I’m taking Wyatt to Kash’s birthday party.”
I let out a breath. Good. She remembered that, too.
“I just came in for the address.”
“Oh, right.” I stuff my cleats into my pack and nod toward my dresser. “It’s on my phone.”
Lindy picks up my cell, types in my four-digit password, and stares at the screen for far too long.
“Did you find it?” I ask, zipping up my bag.
“You have eight unanswered texts from Lucca.”
“Whoa,” I grunt out a low, non-humorous laugh. “That’s not Kash’s address.” I reach my arm out across the bed and wiggle my fingers, telling her to give up the phone.
She takes one step backward, though. “Tuesday morning: ‘Can we talk about last weekend?’” she reads.
“Hey!” I lean farther, but she’s out of my reach now.
“Tuesday evening: ‘Can we meet up tomorrow? I can’t just stop liking you, Maggie.’”
She pants, and with the sound, I flounder onto the bed. “Lindy! That is a private message!”
She holds the phone closer to her face and farther from me. “Wednesday,” she reads. “’It was just a kiss. Surely, we can talk about it like grown-ups.’” Lindy gasps. “You kissed him again?”
“Lindeey!” I wobble on the mattress, hobbling closer to my sister. I’m close enough to reach for the phone, but the woman has a death grip on my cell. So, I wrap my fingers around her wrist, trying to loosen her hold. When I yank, I don’t get my phone, but my entire sister in my lap. We topple onto the bed, Lindy sprawled on top of me. I wrap my legs around Lindy’s waist, locking her in place.
Her voice is strained under my hold, but she keeps reading. “Thursday: ‘These aren’t superficial feelings. There’s nothing paper-thin about how I’m feeling.’”
When retrieving my cell fails, I wrap one hand around her mouth and shut her up. At the very least, she won’t read those texts out loud. I’ve already read them—a dozen times.
I huff out a breath, my chest heaving. “Shh,” I hush, keeping my hand in place over her mouth. And then, my twenty-five-year-old sister licks the inside of my palm. Ifling it away, pushing her off me, and wipe my fingers down the side of my pant leg. “Gross! Lindy!”
“That’s what you get for covering my mouth.” Her breaths are heavy. She sits across from me, clutching my phone to her chest. “What’s going on with Lucca?”
“So, he’s texted a few times…”
“He’s texted, he’s confessed to liking you. There’s been more kissing!”
“Shh!” I hiss once more. “I don’t ask you about kissing Brent.”
“I’d gladly tell you all about kissing Brent,” she says, then sticks her tongue out at me.
I shake my head and pull in a breath. I hold it for only a second before saying, “Things were getting confusing with Lucca?—”
“You meangood. Things were finally getting good between you two.” She crosses her arms, my phone now in her armpit.
“And,” I shout, “completely out of hand?—”
