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He continues to walk with me, and I hate that I’m going to have to find a way to ditch my best friend.
“Look, Jacobi,” I stop and turn toward him, cutting off his path. “You’re second-string quarterback. One of us has to be here.”
His smile falters a little. “Sounds like whatever you’re leaving for is more than just a lockbox pickup.”
“I’ll be here. I just might need you to start for me.”
“Shy,” Jacobi hesitates. “I can’t—”
“Jacobi,” I clasp his shoulder. “You’re good enough to be quarterback...”
“I’m your backup, Shy. I’m nowhere near as good as you. I know it, you know it, they know it.”
Jacobi’s confidence in his skills is just one reason I keep my appointment as Roth’s guard a secret from my friends. I’ve made the mistake of telling them about assignments and scores before. I used to think complaining about them was a way of showing them I’m not as high on the pedestal as they think, but I was wrong. It just makes them think I’m arrogant. The assignment as Roth’s guard—even though I hate it—will be seen as just another example of favoritism and my complaints about why I don’t want to do it, arrogant.
“Look, don’t psych yourself out. I might be back in time. This is all precautionary. Just in case I get held up.”
“Getting that lockbox, you mean?” Jacobi asks with a raised brow.
I just smile. Jacobi knows I’m lying. He takes a step back, but grins, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Alright, but if Coach gives me hell, you’re doing my math homework for a week.”
I’ll do his math homework for a whole month to work off the guilt I feel. Jacobi turns on his heels and heads back to the locker room.
It takes about twenty minutes to get to the airport from Nacoma Knight Academy. I roll up in the passenger pickup lane and park, reaching for my phone. Several messages populate my screen, all from Natalie.
Are you still at the field house?
Where are you?
Hello?
I can tell when she’s talked to Jacobi because I get, Why didn’t you tell me you were running an errand for your mom? As if I have to answer to her for every move.
My phone buzzes in my hand and another message pops up in the queue: Are you ignoring me?
I debate whether I should answer, but she’ll just see that as an invitation to talk and I don’t really want to be bothered right now, so I close out the messages and start a new one for Roth.
Here.
I hit send and wait.
And wait.
Swarms of people come and go with no sign of Roth.
Finally, I start another text. Hey asshole. I said I was here.
Just as I hit send, there’s a tap on my window. I look up to find Roth standing outside my passenger door, a coffee in hand.
Somehow, knowing what kept him in the airport just makes me hate him more.
He hasn’t changed much, except for a new haircut—short on the sides and long on top. Otherwise, he still resembles the same cheating douchebag I met a few years ago. He’s tall and muscular. He takes pride in his physique. I wish I could say it is all for show, but it’s not—Roth is a warrior, far more of a soldier than his father ever was. That’s about all I respect him for, but he’s somehow managed to weasel his way into the hearts of most Elites and every female Shadow Knight. He lays charm on thick—it’s his gift.
“Well, if it isn’t Shy the Savior.” He holds up his coffee. “Hope you don’t mind—I didn’t think you’d want anything.”
I start my Jeep and put the car into gear. “Get in. You’re going to make us late.”
