“If I don’t, who will?”
I lifted with the sheet covering my chest. “It doesn’t make sense. You don’t want me to be on them, but you're giving it to other students.”
He stopped and turned toward me. “Apple, I say this respectfully. Not everyone abuses shit like Adderall and Xanax. Some students need what I have to offer. You know, for focusing purposes, anxiety. One of my customers doesn’t get sleep because they’ve been up all night studying. Some students have health care to get what they need,while others are broke and can barely afford a meal. I don’t sell to everyone.”
My head flew back. “So, you’re saying I’m an addict?”
He dropped his head and shook it. “If that’s what you got from everything I said, then maybe you are.”
I shot up from the bed. I wasn’t a fucking addict. Who was Harlem to tell me that? I slipped my dress on, then my shoes. Harlem didn’t even move.
“Fuck you, Harlem. I thought you were different, but you're not.”
“Apple, you are tripping. I’m not about to play this game with you. I like what we have, but if you're easily offended by something like the truth, then yes, your best bet is to leave. I hope you figure it out, though, because the girl I just got done loving on is the one I like better.”
I snatched up my bag and waited for him to stop me, but he continued to do what he was doing. I swung the door open and immediately told myself that if today was going to be a bad day for me, God should have just said that.
His lips curled into a smirk as his eyes scanned me up and down. “Apple,” he muttered.
I cleared my throat. “Jesaiah.”
Fuck my life!
PHOEBE
Persia and I charged up the field to catch a dead ball. The cheering and movement calls from my team became overwhelming.
“Come on, girl,” I muttered.
I swung my mallet, hitting the ball and moving toward another as the opposing team charged at me. Persia was fast, but she wasn’t Monk. We also hadn’t spent enough time together to develop the chemistry needed for this match. Still, I needed her to perform because winning would make my parents happy. I wanted to talk to them about spring break, as I didn’t want to spend it alone at the farmhouse this year. I planned to invite Xavier, and since this was the first boy I’d ever planned to bring to them, I thought a victory might be a good way to butter them up before I asked.
We were in the last two minutes, and the pressure was on. I could see my mother and father standing on the side, their eyes intense. I turned back to the field as Persia charged forward. Lacy, my teammate, came around swinging at the same time as me, causing our mallets to clash, giving the other team the leverage to hit the ball and move it down the field.
“Fuck!” I shouted. Before I knew it, the game was over, and we lost. The first loss of the season.
Lacy and her pony Buck came near Persia and me. “Where is your head at, Phoebe? I was screaming I had it. Thanks,” she said before she and Buck trotted away.
My head was all over the place, and this loss was going to send me on a spiral. Since the game was at my parents' facility, Persia didn’t need to travel and was kept in the on-site stable. Monroe Park Club, another one of my parents' pride and joys. It made me wonder how I lost at a place with my last name.
After closing the door and securing Persia, I decided to give up and not even ask. However, to my surprise, my mother was standing there.
“Phoebe, was your mind on a different planet because what I saw out there wasn’t my daughter who fights to win. You clearly didn’t give your all.”
“I did. Sometimes losing is a part of being a winner,” I mumbled as I walked off.
I could hear her coming up behind me. “Is it? You know Kyle—”
I spun and snapped. “I’m not fucking Kyle!”
“Phoebe Monroe!” she hissed.
It was the comparing me to Kyle. She was holding on to Kyle’s legacy so tight that she couldn’t even mourn. It was as if my mother thought of him as if he was away on an extended vacation, and one day he would come home, but he wasn’t. We had never discussed my brother’s death since it happened, and that tore me apart. Kyle deserved better, but who was I to talk when I killed him?
I could see my father approaching us, and I knew this conversation was far from over. “Sweetheart, you and Persia need a little work. Spring break is approaching, and you two will have much time to work on drills together.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to work with Persia. I want Monk.Honestly, I don’t want to do this anymore. If y’all want Kyle to do it, go dig his ass up!” I snapped.
I went to walk off, and my father gripped my arm, swinging me back. “Now I don’t know what has gotten into you, but your spoiled ass needs to fix it. Kyle has nothing to do with how you played out there. I love you, Phoebe, but watch how you talk to your mother and me,” he said as he let go of my arm. My dad went to walk away and stopped. “Oh, and Phoebe, we’re having a guest who’ll be spending spring break with us, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
