But if this was my only shot, I had to take it. If he was going to move out soon, I had to act now.
I couldn’t let this carry on any longer. It was bad for both of us. The atmosphere in the room was uncomfortable. We had to sleep next to each other. The least we could do was to make it so we could sleep easy.
I had to tell him. I had to do it now.
“Keaton,” I said. I drew a deep breath. I wasn’t one for big speeches. I hated talking at length. I was better at letting my body do the talking out on the field. But if he was going to force me… “We need to talk.”
“What about?” he challenged me.
I took that deep breath again. My hands were shaking so I clenched them into fists. His eyes widened slightly and my gut lurched.
He was afraid of me.
Of course, he was afraid of me. I was his bully.
He thought I was going to beat him to the ground.
The realization made me feel sick to my stomach.
“I know that the way I treated you…” I took a moment to breathe again. “What I did to you in high school. I know it was wrong. I know I was an asshole. No, more than an asshole. I was like a massive dick or whatever.”
“A massive dick or whatever?” Keaton repeated. His face was so astonished I couldn’t tell whether he was making fun of me or not.
“Just let me finish,” I said, pinching my fingers between my eyes. “I’m not good with words like you are. Actually, I’m not really good with anything. Except for football. And I know words aren’t enough. Especially not my words. But I wanted to say it anyway.”
“Say what?” Keaton asked. He was staring at me like I was an exhibit at a freakshow.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I wasn’t prepared for how my voice cracked on the word. “I’ve felt so much guilt about all of that. I’m sorry for what I did. I know you hate me and I know you’ll always hate me. I just… I wanted a chance to try to make it up to you. So, that’s it. I’m really, really fucking sorry.”
And I braced myself for him to laugh in my face and tell me to get out.
Keaton
I took a deep breath, echoing the seventy or so Olly had seemed to take while he was talking. I looked at him – really looked at him. He was standing there dripping in sweat, still wearing his training gear. His eyes were down on the floor like he was afraid of what I was going to do next.
Him? Afraid of me?
I wanted to laugh at the thought, but at the same time, I knew: there were more things in life to be afraid of than physical violence. He wanted my forgiveness, and he was afraid I wasn’t going to give it to him.
I looked down at myself. At my hands holding my textbook. I wasn’t a high school kid anymore. I’d grown up, gotten stronger and more resilient. Truth be told, I’d been through worse than what Olly Harvey had done to me.
I had the power, now. For a moment, I thought about using it to spite him. Making him feel low and refusing to accept his apology. I thought about going right to the Dean and making another complaint to see if we could get moved faster. I could tell Olly to leave and not come back – to find somewhere to sleep on the floor with his teammates. If he’d even listen to me, it would be revenge.
But it wouldn’t feel good.
“I accept your apology,” I said, lifting my head and looking at him.
He met my eyes, his going wide. “Really?” he asked. He seemed to struggle for a moment, looking around as if for an answer, then back at me. “Why?”
I smirked. The emotion that tugged at the corners of my mouth was so mixed up that I could barely even describe all the elements that made it up. But I could give him one answer that would satisfy him – one answer that was true. “Because I want to move on with my life,” I said. “I can’t do that if I’m holding a grudge. I forgive you and I forgive the rest of them. I’m moving on.”
Something in Olly seemed to sag. He nodded. I couldn’t tell if he was happy about it or still sad. Why didn’t he look more relieved?
He looked down at the towel in his hands and hefted it a little as if to draw attention to it. “I’d better go for that shower,” he said, and then he left.
I paused, sitting exactly where he had left me, thinking. He’d said he was different now and I had never really believed him – I thought it was just him trying to avoid any scandal in his college career. Not that it probably would have mattered if I’d run out onto the field in the middle of a game and screamed to the winds that he was a bully. He was a football player. Everyone was going to hero-worship him no matter what he did. So long as he won the game, he could do anything.
But he seemed… sincere. Like he really was sorry for what he had done. I’d never expected that, of all things.
