Page 37 of Enemy Games

She didn’t remember a lot? Did that mean that she didn’t remember telling me about what a terrible person I was? Was she skirting around that like we were both going to pretend it didn’t happen? Carry on like we had before? Not knowing one another?

“It wasn’t a big deal. I would have done it for anyone on our teams.”

“Right.” She pursed her lips in what might have been a smile before turning away.

She really was just going to leave things like this? Awkward and unfinished? She tore me, well childhood me, apart for all the crap I did, and now was just going to walk away. There was no way she forgot everything that happened.

“Hey,” I called before she got to the door.

She faced me and crossed her arms.

“Are we good?”

She didn’t answer immediately, like she was actually considering it. “You know, if you are, then so am I.”

Before I could ask what that was supposed to mean, she pushed through the door. Leaving me alone to think about her and the decade-old mess following me.

Chapter 11

Presley

Life was supposed to get better when you set the truth free. At least, I thought that was some sort of rule.

Turned out that wasn’t the case, because I just lied again.

I marched down the quiet, dark street to my house, reliving that conversation and wondering if I made the right choice, because I remembered what I said at the hospital.

Unfortunately, every cringe-worthy moment was alive and well, playing on repeat in my head. I wanted to blame some sort of strong drug that altered my mental state, but that would be a lie. I got some pain meds that definitely took the edge off, and I was feeling really good, but I was fully in control of my mouth.

It just seemed like as good of a time as any to bring him up to speed. The worst he could do was leave me at the hospital, but that would certainly paint him in an even worse light. Even the worst of bullies wouldn’t just abandon their victim in their time of need.

Okay, maybe real villains would, but Shaw wasn’t one. He was just a mean kid.

I wanted the full story. I wanted the truth of why he went from being my friend who came for sleepovers and taught me how to do a backflip on his trampoline to verbally tearing me down every chance he had.

It wouldn’t change things, I knew that, but I still wanted the answer, because even all these years later, that was what hurt the most.

Shaw wasn’t the only boy, or girl, to tease me back then. I was a walking disaster. I had headgear to correct an overbite caused by breaking my jaw. I had a bowl cut with one section in the front that refused to lay flat. Plus, I generally wore my brother’s hand-me-downs because I didn't like girls’ clothes. His shorts and T-shirts were way more comfortable than the frilly, colorful options forced upon young girls.

Even back then I was self-aware enough to know I wasn’t the cutest, but what did that have to do with me as a player, or being my friend? My hair didn’t impact my stick handling. My headgear only came off when I had my helmet on, so my teammates rarely saw me with it on. And we were all wearing the same oversized gear.

So what was the big deal?

The only time I ever felt normal, or like the other kids, was when I was playing. That was my happy place. I was more comfortable at the arena than at home.

It was why I never even considered caving in and quitting or switching over to a more feminine sport. I was a good player, and I loved it.

I thought it was something Shaw and I had in common. Then he twisted what he knew about me to be used as a weapon.

The single light I left on in the kitchen when I snuck out was still on, so I turned it off as I passed on my way upstairs. These secret workouts might not have been the best idea, but I needed them for my own sanity.

There was no conceivable way for me to rest for two weeks. I wasn’t even sure what that word meant. The longest I’ve ever taken off training was four days because I had my wisdom teeth removed. I wanted to go back to practice the next day, but my parents hid the car keys and my phone so I had no way of getting there.

I snuck into my room to find Chris sleeping soundly and pulled off my sweaty clothes before grabbing my bathroom kit and heading to the hall to shower.

There was no reason for this to get awkward. If Shaw thought I didn’t remember what I said, then we could go back to generally ignoring each other’s existence like before. The service project was over, so we had no reason to spend time together.

If I needed help with my classes, he said Benjamin was in the same major so he could help. Or I could ask classmates like a normal person.