Page 11 of Saving The Shortstop

I know this is cruel and it’s going to hurt him, but I don’t care. I need to draw a line. No, I need it to be a freaking fence.

Leaning forward slightly, I straighten my shoulders and sit tall. “I am so sorry, Tabor. But no, I didn’t feel the shift. I thought we were on the same page, and I feel terrible for my part in letting you believe differently.’’ I sigh. “But it ends now, okay? What we had or didn’t have … it’s over.”

In the short time we’ve been sitting here, Tabor has gone from sweet, to angry, to desperate and now … almost childlike. His eyes grow wide, and his lip trembles.

“You … you feel it, Haven.”

“No,” I say boldly. “I don’t. I promise, whatever you’re feeling, I do not feel the same.”

And in a split second, his energy shifts to angry again.

“Yes, you do!” he slaps his hand down. “You let me fuck you, Haven. You looked into my eyes while we both fucking came. I know you fucking love me too.”

And just like that, I’m speechless. Because the love word isn’t something I thought I’d hear. And he’s bringing up our sex life in a public place as some sort of weapon to use against me to help him prove a point.

Scootching my chair backward, I slowly stand.

“I am so sorry if I hurt you, Tabor. That was never my intention. But I am telling you right now, I didn’t feel the same way you did, and the sex didn’t mean anything more than that to me.” I attempt to steady my heart. “Please, leave me alone. This is over, and I would appreciate it if you kept away from me.”

Before he can say anything or get out of his seat, I dart from the table. The sound of his chair scraping the old wood floor scares me, but when Gigi and Harley quickly rush to follow, working as a shield, I peek over my shoulder as we exit, taking in the sight of him just standing there, frozen as he watches me leave.

Once we’re outside, I try to stop the nausea from coming, but truth be told, this whole encounter has me more scared than I want to lead on.

“I’m so glad you guys agreed to come,” I say with a sigh as we walk along the sidewalk. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize how insane he is until now.”

“Sometimes people are just good at hiding their ugly sides,” Harley utters, sliding her arm around me, and Gigi does the same on the other side. “You can’t beat yourself up over that.”

“She’s right,” Gigi says softly. “And before you get down on yourself, just remember that you were more than honest with him from the beginning in terms of what the relationship was and wasn’t. It isn’t your fault that he chose to see it as something else.”

“I guess,” I say on a sigh. And even though I know I’m being crazy, I can’t help but feel someone’s eyes on my back. The sensation makes me cringe, and my heart flutters, but not in the good way.

I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. Tabor will get over it. Hell, that was probably for show. Maybe he already is. I hope, anyway. Because to be honest, today made me more uncomfortable than I would have ever expected it to. And I saw a side of him I hope I never come face to face with again.

DALLAS

I sit across from Coach as he studies whatever’s in front of him. He texted me an hour ago, telling me to come see him. I already knew what it was about before getting here. I guess I just hoped for a little more time before it became a problem.

Grades. Apparently here at NEU, no matter how good of a player you are, you can’t be failing your classes.

Dropping the paper onto his desk, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Dallas, why didn’t you tell me you were struggling? I could have assigned you a tutor before it got this bad.”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mutter, averting my eyes downward and fidgeting with my fingers.

Ever since they adopted me, my mom and dad have done everything they can to help me keep up with my classes. When they knew I wanted to play for a Division 1 university, they put in so much of their own time to help me in school. But I’ll never be smart enough to maintain the grade point average I need to all alone. And I fucking hate that.

“This isn’t good,” he whispers. “This isn’t good at all.”

“Yeah, I know.” I swallow, dragging a hand over my hair. “I … I just don’t think I’m smart enough to be in college.”

“You were in college last year!” he practically roars. “And your grades were fine!”

The back of my neck grows warm, and now, it’s even harder to look up at him. I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t admit that last year, I had friends who basically did my work for me. They made it so I passed. One of them was best friends with a TA, and that made it even easier to cheat.

If I told him that—it would jeopardize everything.

“I … had a lot of friends who were willing to help me do better,” I say, figuring that’s enough truth to not be considered a lie. “Here, it’s different. I have Noah, but he’s busy with his own life.” Noah has to work really hard in school to keep up, but Coach already knows that. Either way, he doesn’t have time to also help me just because I’m a moron who, up until fifth grade, was absent more times than not.