Page 36 of Sterling Fight

“What?” I choke on the peppery flavor in my mouth, the aftertaste of this particular red. I stare at Genie in shock.

“University of Tennessee.” She stares back at me like I should understand.

I do understand. Orange and white. The Volunteers. Knoxville. But . . . “Did you go to Tennessee?” I’m going to hate myself is she says⁠—

“Yes.”

I close my eyes and want the room to swallow me. Wait, no I don’t. My lids ping open. “How did I miss you there?” Somehow, I feel I should have been able to see only her, even in the midst of twenty-eight thousand students.

Genie shrugs and glances down at the wineglass in her hands. “I worked in the library.” She gazes back up at me. “I’d see you there, late at night. On Saturday nights,” she adds, her tone somber. “Nose in a book.”

How had I not known? Not sensed her, seen her? She’s a fucking firefly, bright and beautiful. Then again, only a flash of light and I’d missed it. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me?” Why didn’t she approach me?

Genie licks her lips then lifts her glass to her mouth, taking a drink like she needs time to think before answering. “I just figured you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” What am I missing here?

Genie exhales deeply and looks at me. “Because you stood me up for prom.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to talk to you.” I swipe a hand through my hair and glance toward the lake.

Shit, shit, shit. This isn’t what I want to talk about tonight. I just want to get to know her as we are now, but Genie needs to understand something.

“Firefly, I never meant to stand you up.” The strain in my voice isn’t enough of an apology.

Her head flinches at the nickname, eyes blinking rapidly.

“I waited for hours, Judd. Even if no one else was present except my mother”—she shakes her head like that was an issue—“it was still humiliating to be wearing that dress and waiting, waiting, waiting.”

Janet Hurley’s attitude is haughty at best, and I imagine her behavior can be intimidating, especially when I remember her glaring at Genie only yesterday, demanding to see a ring as proof of my announcement.

“I’m so sorry.”

Genie swallows thickly. “And I get it if you changed your mind. I mean, I asked you to your prom. Pretty bold for a sophomore to a senior.”

“Genie,” I whisper, my heart racing as I set my wineglass on the table near the swivel chairs and then lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees and steepling my fingers at my lips.

“You didn’t even want to go in the first place, but I⁠—”

“I wanted to go with you, Genie. Everything in me wanted to go. To be there with you. To see you in that dress you wouldn’t describe to me.”

Blue, she’d told me. It’s the same color as your eyes. For reference, she clarified. No one had ever said anything like that to me before or since. No one.

“Why didn’t you just call me and tell me you changed your mind?” Genie’s voice is strong but the hurt rings through every syllable. The pain of waiting on someone who wasn’t showing up for her. The embarrassment. Somehow, I picture her mother staring at her, not with compassion but with criticism.

I’d been willing to risk everything to be there with Genie. I hadn’t changed my mind about attending. Someone else changed everything for me.

“My father beat me up,” I murmur to the tips of my fingers, pressed against my lips. The memory so sharp. So quick, like the flick of his fist that I never saw coming at me.

Genie gasps. Her eyes wide. Her bright cheeks suddenly draining of color. “Oh, my God. Judd.”

“I was dressed in my rented tux. A cummerbund I hoped would match your dress. I knew I was cutting the time close.” I’d had to work at the Seed & Soil earlier in the day, doing manual labor at the time and slowly building up my strength. I was never athletic as a kid, not like most of my siblings, but I wanted to be stronger. I wanted to be tougher.

Where is it, you fucking pansy? My father’s words typically hurt more than his fist, but he’d gotten me good. Right in the nose. Blood spurted everywhere. My white shirt. My rented tux. The bow tie.

I was too stunned to answer him at first. He’d hit me before but nothing so direct. I was certain my nose was broken.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’d lied through the blood suddenly filling my mouth. I’d wanted to insult him as well. Call him a weak man.