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“Oh,” I say with a sniff.
“I don’t know if your mother has called you yet,” Dad continues, spitting outmotheras if the word is vile. “But I was hoping you could spend Thanksgiving with me. It’s been a while. I was hoping we could have some bond—”
“I can’t, Dad,” I rush out, wiping the tears already streaming down my cheeks. “I’m going to be in Chicago with Hunter. Me and my…” I wince.Bros? Boyfriends? Lovers?I roll my eyes. It doesn’t matter what I say. If he can so flippantly decide to tell me about the break of our family, with no remorse, then I can talk freely about my boyfriends. “We’re spending Thanksgiving together,” I finish, chickening out last minute. “I already bought the tickets.”
“Oh.” Dad’s voice sounds disappointed and my heart twinges with guilt. This will be his first Thanksgiving alone. In retrospect, it will also be Mom’s. But I’m an adult. I can decide where I spend my time.
“I suppose that’s better than spending it with your mother.”
My mouth gapes open and I scoff, absolutely exasperated and angered by Dad’s words.
“She’s spending Thanksgiving with Carl.”
Who’s Carl?I want to ask, but instead I take a deep breath, counting to ten as I slowly release it. “I really don’t want to be put in the middle of this,” I say, my voice tense.
“Oh, I know,” Dad says quickly, as if he’s only realizing now how upset I am. “I completely understand. We can spend Christmas together.”
I look skyward, shaking my head. I don’t know if I want to do Christmas with him or Mom. Honestly, I want to be left alone to figure out how I feel about all this. Why can’t either of them understand that?
“Okay, well, I really got to go,” I say, not bothering to answer about Christmas. “My class is starting soon.”
“I’ll talk to you later, honey,” Dad says sweetly. “Let me know about Christmas. I got a new place. I think you will like it.”
“Okay, Dad.” I stand, my feet already taking me toward the art school, but I stop when I see Charlie hovering outside, talking to some guy a couple inches shorter than her with brown hair, wearing a tracksuit.
“Love you, Rachel.”
“Love you, too, Dad,” I say distantly before hanging up.Is that Charlie’s boyfriend?I can’t see his face, but he’s built like the other athletes I see walking around on campus. Charlie is wearing heels again, this time bright red pumps that make her look at least three inches taller than usual. The guy she’s talking to is lean and toned. He tilts his head while Charlie laughs, covering her mouth with her perfectly manicured hand. She takes his arm with her other hand and guides him away from the art school.
Wait. Is she not going to class?I wonder, my feet taking me toward them. I hang back so they don’t see me. I know I’m acting like a creep, but why does Charlie want to keep this guy a secret from me? And why is she skipping Photography in order to be with him? Charlie loves her art classes. She excels at them. There must be a reason for this. I roll my eyes at myself.The reason is she likes the guy, I tell myself while shaking my head. I should turn around now. I’m invading Charlie’s privacy. If she wants to keep her new man a secret, then that’s on her.
So, why can’t I turn around?I follow them through the quad and toward the track field, losing them around the locker rooms. Charlie couldn’t have entered with him. That would be too weird. Is the guy a track and field athlete? That means Alex and Seth might know him. My phone buzzes, letting me know I’m officially late for Photography. With one last look, I turn on my heel and run back toward the art school, slinging my bag over one shoulder as I sprint toward it. My lungs burn with the effort and my muscles pull, reminding me I am no athlete.
I burst into the art school with a gasp, the doors slamming open and hitting the wall. The hallways are completely empty. The light flickers above me.Someone really needs to fix that,I think while trudging down the hall, unable to run anymore. Seth will be so disappointed if he ever hears of this. I stop outside my classroom, taking several deep breaths before opening the door.
“Today we will be learning about—” The professor pauses, his wrinkled face set in a stern frown as he watches me pad toward an empty chair in the front. “Let’s try not to be late next time,” he says to my back.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
Lauren smiles at me from a corner in the back of the room. Her bag rests on one chair next to her, as if she’s been saving it. My feet pause and I wonder briefly if I should sit next to her. She’s trying to repair the burned bridge between us, but I’m still unsure. Instead, I sit in the chair closest to me, dumping my bag on the floor and facing forward, ignoring the guilt twisting within me.
It’s going to take more than saving a chair for me to repair our relationship,I think. My phone vibrates and I take it out of my jean pocket, smiling when I see Hunter’s message:Will definitely call you tonight.
Chapter 10
HUNTER
Thisweekhasbeenlong. My muscles ache with every single movement. Even opening my locker is painful. I stare at my football gear, telling myself to reach for my pads, but unable to move. I have never trained this hard, this long in my entire life. I thought the training before the season began was rigorous. That was just child’s play compared to the amount of running, squatting, and benching I have to do now. And even when practice is done, I still have my personal trainer to contend with. At least we play the Broncos tomorrow, and then we have a short break. Short break meaning a couple days off.
The Broncos,I think, my mind taking me back to Colorado with its mountains. I can still remember all the games we went to, my mom smiling brightly as she watched the Broncos’ game She wasn’t so much of a fan, but she took an interest in what I liked. I wince and shake my head, not wanting to think about my mom now, while around the guys. It always tends to bring tears to my eyes.
Although, it’s funny to think I once wanted to join the Broncos and instead wound up playing for the Bears. I think my old room back in Aurora is still filled with Bronco jerseys, posters, and a signed football. At least the colors are similar. I wonder what my teammates would do if they discovered my treachery, if they saw old pictures of me cheering at a Broncos game and wearing a Broncos jersey. They would never let me live it down.
“You should have seen the bitch I got with last night,” I hear Brody say from behind me.
I roll my eyes while reaching for my jersey. Not this again. How does he have the energy to go out after practice and the gym? I’m younger than him and I’m already feeling old age creep up on me. The last thing I want to do is go to a bar, yet he’s out almost every night.
That’s because he has a life and friends,I think while tugging off my shirt, hating the truth of it. I’m sure I would be out often if I had friends living in Chicago. We would probably go to the pier, or hang out at the blues bars, pretending to enjoy the music while drinking and chatting. I can see Rachel enjoying all the tours and the art museum. I can already see her tugging me toward it and wasting the entire day staring at pictures I have no care for, all to see her smile and listen to her go on and on about the styles and the history.
