We are both to blame for our cowardice, but the thing about our story is that I’ve been writing it inpen.
Every single memory with Indy is engraved into my soul.
The commentator’s voice gets louder on the TV as he screams over a highlight reel, the spectators in the stands erupting into cheers as the batter knocks the ball out of the stands.
Thatright there is why I’m not fighting harder for the girl I spend all my time thinking about.
I’m working on building my life, so we can create ours.
My dream is to play for the majors—not just for the love of the sport, but so I can have enough money to give Indy everything she wants and deserves in this life.
I know we’ll get there.
Like I said earlier, everything’s about timing. Love. Happiness. Opportunity. The home run hit.
One minute too soon or a second too late could cost you everything.
Indy and I have always been in each other’s orbit, circling around each other in an intricate dance. Every now and then we align perfectly just before we drift apart again.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, counting my breaths as I exhale slowly.
Patience and discipline.
A sharp knock raps against my door.
My pulse spikes instantly as I jolt upright, the sound echoing. I glance at the clock, noting the time. It’s only a quarter past ten, but the hallways quieted down nearly an hour ago, everyone clearing out for the parties over on Fraternity Row.
In a temporary moment of insanity, I wonder if Indy is on the other side of the door.
Another knock sounds, and I toss my feet over the side of the bed. “Just a second.”
My bare feet sink into the ratty old carpet as I cross the room, tossing open the door.
Not Indy.
My stomach drops. “Willa,” I say with surprise. I never would have expected her to be at my door. “What are you doing here?”
How did you know which room is mine?
“Looking for you.” She pushes past me, barging into my dorm. On instinct, I glance around the hallway.
Her gaze sweeps across my space before landing on me. Folding her arms, she hugs herself tightly, pushing her breasts up in her pink mini-dress.
“Why are you looking for me?” I drop back down onto my twin bed, picking up the remote again. Maybe she’ll get the hint and leave.
“You weren’t at Kaleb’s party.”
I stop flicking through the channels and glance at her. “Your point?”
She steps closer to my bed, demanding my attention. The scowl on her face has deepened. “You told me you’d see me there.”
My jaw tightens. You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s spinning my very casual goodbye when we left class earlier into a promise to meet up later. Flirting with her a few weeks ago was a mistake. Asking for her phone number had been an even bigger one. Even though we’ve only texted a few times, I guess she thinks it’s a much bigger deal than it is. “Willa,” I say, tone flat.
Shutting off the TV, I stand, ready to see her out.
“Why would you say that if you weren’t even going to show up?” she says, the hurt evident.
I drag my hand through my hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say? Saying ‘see you there’ is practically the same as goodbye. I was being friendly, Willa?—”
