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"Fine," I bark as she steps backward, digging through her backpack for her phone.
"Give me your number so I can reach you," she demands, stretching her phone out to me.
"You are gonna have to try a little harder to get my number. I don't just give my number out to random girls on the quad." I tease.
"Fine, can I pretty please have your number?" She bats her eyelashes, grabbing onto my arm flirtatiously.
"Since you asked nicely," I agree, typing the number into her phone. She steps back almost as if she's won a war, the look of victory in her eyes.
"Okay, it's settled then," She turns to walk away before turning back dramatically.
"Wait a minute. Let me see your phone."
Shit.
"I just wanna make sure my text goes through."
She yanks the phone from my hand, waiting and waiting before her phone finally dings, rage taking over, "You motherfucker! You gave me Jack's number. You know he's never going to leave me alone now."
"Now we're even," I smile, her hand making contact with my shoulder. "Easy, that's my throwing arm."
"I'm in Windsor hall, room 203. Meet me there at five."
I laugh, "No can do, sweetheart. I have practice until six."
"Fine, seven. Don't be late, now you owe me. I can't believe you tricked me into giving Jack my number."
"I'll be there," I smirk, and she spins dramatically, practically stomping to her next class.
I glance over at Dojo sprawled out on our couch, his feet propped up on the arm. I basically sling my helmet into the floor with a thud, drawing his attention.
"Seeing your family this weekend was that bad, huh?"
If anyone knows anything at all about my life since moving from Savannah, it's Dojo. We met at one of the darkest times of my life, and honestly, if it wasn't for him and his friendship, I don't know where I'd be. I'm thankful he's here. His family is in Colorado, and I know he will miss them, but I don't know if I could handle this without him.
"You have no idea."
"You wanna talk about it," he asks, dragging a beer to his lips.
"I saw Hanna," I admit. He sits straight up on the couch, dropping his bottle to a coaster.
"Locker girl?"
I roll my eyes. They will never let me live that down. I have a picture of Hanna in my locker with all of my flight gear. It's one I've kept since college, her in a shirt with my name on the back at a football game. She had cut the end of the shirt in a fringe with beads. It was a homecoming thing and honestly kind of stupid, but I will never forget winning that game and her running up to me, wrapping her legs around my waist.
"Yeah. Locker girl."
"I thought you said she moved back home to South Georgia?"
To say I hadn't asked around about Hanna when I left would be a lie. Sure I asked about her. I even drove six hours only to chicken out and turn around. I talked myself out of it. Every mile closer I got, the more unworthy I felt.
"She did, but she's back, and she has a five-year-old."
Dojo's eyes fall to me, a knowing look that I can't quite describe.
"A fucking kid, man?"
"Yeah, a little girl that looks just like her."
