We understood each other, and she appreciated the standard I set for our team.
“You’re late, Allison. Fix it,” I snapped.
Tears welled instantly. “I?—”
“Reset,” I ignored the theatrics. “From the beginning.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. If I were that weak, my father would probably have already put me out of my misery.
Now, who was being dramatic?I smirked at the thought.
We ran it again. This time, the jump was clean.
When Coach finally blew the whistle, relief rippled through the line. Girls bent over, hands on knees, sucking in air like they’d been underwater too long.
“Hydrate,” Coach said. “And don’t forget—Friday matters. Fans come to see us as much as they do the football game.”
Friday always mattered at Ashford High during football season.
Madison collapsed beside me on the bench, laughing breathlessly. “She’s going to kill us one day.”
“Not today.” I grabbed my bag.
Brooke wiped sweat from her neck. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
Madison huffed out a breath. “I thought we were going to hang out. I wanted you to talk to Mr. Tusk about my math grade.”
I raised a brow. “Deal with your own shit.”
“But Taryn?—”
“No.”
Coach didn’t question it when I nodded toward the door. She never did. Like recognizes like.
As I walked out, voices followed—low, reverent, and resentful.
“She’s such a bitch.”
“She’s the only reason we placed at competition.”
“I hate her.”
“I want to be her when I grow up.”
Love-hate.
A conflict I knew and understood well.
Outside, the heat hit like a wall. The football field shimmered in the distance, empty now, but I could feel it humming with anticipation. Ethan Holt jogged toward me from the locker room, his hair still wet from the shower.
“Coach put me back on.” The relief in his voice was evident.
“I know,” I smiled.
He blinked. “Aaron talked to him.”
