Step. Kick. Clap. Spin?—
A tall figure wearing a Kingsbury football practice jersey emerges from behind the bleachers, his shoulders slumped as he trudges toward the Senior lot.
Shit, shit, shit. I need to go. Now.
“Alright girls! Practice tonight. I don’t want a repeat of thissloppy mess tomorrow!” Coach calls. Ignoring the annoyed glares thrown my way, I dart for my cheer bag.
A hand grasps my arm.
“What’s your deal?” Melissa hisses, snatching her duffel from beside mine.
“I gotta go.”
“Where?” She asks, borderline jogging to keep up as I take off down the track.
“To talk to him.”
“Is this about that weird blonde guy?”
Not doing this with her right now. Seba is almost to the far end of the lot by the time I reach the gate.
I pick up the pace.
“Hey, slow down!”
Not a chance.
“I’ll meet you in the locker room later!”
“What the fuck, Drea!” Melissa whines,finallyletting me go.
Panting, bag smacking my side, shoe lace unravelling and one of my pigtails loosening— I’m so fucking close.
He opens the door of his truck.
“Seba!”
Pauses.
I skid to a stop. My heart slams. My lungs scream.
He arches a brow. It’s swollen and cut, a trail of blood drying on his cheek.
“Shit, Grant got you good.” Oh hell, that’s not what I meant to say. “I mean, what happened earlier?” He should just run me over with his truck. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Are you ok?”
A soft chuckle. "Yeah, I’m alright.”
He leans on the open door of his truck, drumming his fingers as his gaze drops to his cleats. “I take it you saw that mess earlier.”
“Grant’s a dick.”
“If that ain’t the truth,” he mutters. Shakes his head. Sighs. “He was talking shit about Cade. And yeah, he’s a pain in the ass but…”
All of it slots into place.
“He’syourpain in the ass,” I finish for him.
Warm brown eyes snap to me— wide and panicked. Maybe I misunderstood him?
