She snorts. “I wanted to make doubly sure you got the message loud and clear.”
“Oh, I’m getting it, all right.” I start striding across campus as we talk. “You were all worked up back there. I’m guessing you’re calling to say thanks for the invite?”
“That was an invite? Because it felt more like an order. Is that how you got Cheyenne to have dinner with you, by the way? Like, frog-marching her into the restaurant?”
I’m laughing so hard, people are staring.
“Okay, I get what you’re saying. Can I try again?”
“No second chances.”
“Carrie—I’d love for you to come see me play tomorrow evening. I have so many supporters, but not too many good friends. It would mean a lot to me.”
I clamp my lips shut to stop myself from laughing. It’s all true, though—there’s nothing like being cheered on by people who actually matter.
“You still there?” I ask.
“Fuck,” she sighs. “When you put in a little effort, you’re actually good at this.”
“So, is that a yes?”
“That’s an okay. But I’m telling you, Wolinski—you drag my ass out to watch your shitty game, you better win! Because if you lose, I’m waxing your balls. On the house.”
By the time I’ve thought of a reply to that, she’s hung up on me, and it’s probably for the best—I still don’t exactly know what to say, except—I guess I’ll have to win, then…
21CARRIE
I’m standing on the sidewalk, my teeth chattering as I wait for my ride straight to hell. I’ve now changed my mind. Donovan is getting a full sack and crack wax whether they win or lose, because this absolutely sucks. I pace up and down the street, keeping my eyes peeled for Adam. I’m basically whoring out my convictions. I’m like a hooker of the soul.
Watching a game is bad enough for a girl like me—I’m the antithesis of a jock. But watching a game because I’m desperate to see Donovan play is… weird as hell.I’m gonna make sure I get every last hair…
“Carrie!”
I whip around. Adam honks at me, and as I cross the street, I’m half praying I get knocked down or something. Maybe that’ll rewire my brain. I fling open the door and slide into the passenger seat.
“Sorry I’m late—the traffic was bad.”
“No worries. Apparently cold is good for the heart.”
He laughs and cranks up the heat.
“Ready for a night to remember?”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life,” I quip, warming my hands against the vents.
“Don too.”
“Yeah, he’s going to love hearing me cheer him on. ‘Get it in the fucking net, Wolinski!’?”
“He told me you were Team Maryland…”
“True.” I nod. “So, when I start cheering him on, maybe he’ll freak out and twist an ankle and miss his shot. That’s the plan, anyway.”
He smirks at me. “You’re evil, you know that?”
As we drive, I try to get to know Adam a little better. He’s always been the nicest one.
“Have you got a girlfriend?”
