Fuck. Gen isn’t totally wrong. Of course, provided she didn’t send those texts and came down here to terrorize me under the guise of looking for Jodie.
That’s nothing, but a hunch based on her behavior so far, though. Is it possible that Gen isn’t totally bad? “I’m sorry.” I exhale. “You’re right. Thanks for looking out for Jodie.”
“You’re welcome.” She flicks her hair, her blue eyes full of the same distrust I feel for her. “Try to remember that when it’s time to choose our team captain.”
And just like that, Gen’s good deed loses some of its luster. Of course she helped Jodie to try to look good in front of the other girls in the hopes of being voted team captain when the time comes.
“Is Talia with Jo-Jo?” I ask.
“Should be,” Gen offers.
I turn to look at Nash. While Gen and I were talking, he put all the clothes that were in the dryers into my clean hamper.
“Let’s go. I’ll carry these for you, and then I need to get some rest. We have an early practice, and it’s getting late.”
As we make our way to the elevator, Nash looks distant. It’s as if what happened between us in the laundry room was nothing but a hot figment of my imagination.
My hunch is confirmed by the fact that he doesn’t even get out of the elevator. “Here.” He passes me the hamper the second the doors open on my floor. “I’m gonna go back down. Good night, Taryn.”
Taryn, notTrouble.
For some reason that hurts more than if he had said clearly that nothing has changed between us.
He clearly doesn’t want to risk being seen with me if that can cause him trouble with Coach Harrison.
TARYN
The apartment is eerily quiet when I step foot into our living room.
Rather than going into my room to put away my laundry, I dump the hamper on the floor near the couch and head straight to my best friend’s room.
“Talia, Jo-Jo?” I call out, but the only response I get is a pained groan coming from Jodie’s room. “Babes?” I enter the dark room with tentative steps, careful not to walk into a piece of furniture on my way to the bed.
Jodie is slumped halfway onto her bed, her head hanging from one side of the mattress. There’s a big mixing bowl from the kitchen on the floor right below her head.
I sit on the edge of the mattress, brushing her bangs away from her forehead. Her skin is clammy and cold.
“Jo-Jo, are you ok?” I murmur.
“No,” she groans. “I’m never gonna drink again.”
I rub soothing circles on her shoulders. “I’m sure you aren’t the first nor the last person to say that. And I’m sure it’s true until the next party.”
Jodie attempts to laugh, but she aborts mission mid-giggle. “Stop being funny. If I laugh, I’m gonna be sick again.”
“Where’s Talia?”
“She’s out.”
I’m disappointed. “What? Did she leave you alone in this state? Please don’t tell me she went back to the party.” I could see Gen doing that, not Tucker’s sister.
“No,” Jodie explains. “I couldn’t stop being sick, and I needed something to settle my stomach. I crave saltines, and since the dining hall is closed, Talia offered to go to the gas station we saw on our way into town to buy me some.”
“That’s nice of her. What about the bowl?” I ask pointing at the mixing bowl on the floor.
“Talia wanted me to lie on the bathroom floor just in case I was sick again. But I was so cold, I wanted to be in bed. She was worried I’d choke on my own vomit while she was away if I fell asleep. So she left the bowl in case I felt like vomiting again.”
That makes perfect sense. “How are you feeling now?”
