Page 158 of Kulti


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“No offense taken.”

Kulti agreed to nothing.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Rey, promise me.”

That time I did catch him rolling his eyes. “Fine.”

“That doesn’t sound like a promise to me.”

“I promise,schnecke,” he grumbled.

I totally caught the small smile that crossed Franz’s face as he heard the nickname Kulti called me. It was the first time he’d used that term in front of someone, and Franz’s smile said that it couldn’t have meant a bad thing. At least that’s what I was pretty sure of.

“You’re positive this is what you want to do?” the German asked seriously, a gentle reminder of how he’d lost his crap when I first mentioned Franz’s idea of me playing overseas. Now, he was totally focused and calm. He looked ready to kill someone.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit terrified. The fact was, I could either let my fear of the unknown make me a victim, or take control of my career.

There wasn’t really a choice in the matter.

You don’t get to live your dreams by waiting around for someone to hand them to you.

Or at the very least, you hold on to them for dear life when others try and take them away.

I nodded at my friend, determined. “I’m positive.”

Iwas yawningevery two minutes by the time Kulti finally glared at me from across the table where we were all playing poker. I hadn’t laughed when he busted out the cards and asked if we wanted to play, but I’d wanted to.

“Stop giving me that look. I’m going home now before I fall asleep,” I said, pushing the chair away from the table.

“Call a taxi.”

“No. I can drive home. I live close enough, it’ll be fine.” Before he could argue with me I leaned over and gave Franz, the man who had won both games we’d played, a hug. “Thank you for coming to camp today and thank you for all your help with the other stuff, too.”

“Let me know as soon as you hear back from a team. I can help you narrow it down,” he said, giving me an affectionate pat on the back. “You still have my information?”

“Yes.” I pulled away from him. “I’ll definitely let you know if I hear from anyone.”

“You’re an idiot. You will,” the bratwurst interjected, getting up.

“I don’t know how I’ve lived my entire life without you and your kind, encouraging words. Really. It’s a miracle I’ve survived this long.”

Kulti was doing his usual scowl-thing, but the corners of his mouth were tipped up as he grabbed the back of my neck with his broad palm and swung me around to face the doorway. “I have never met anyone that needed me less than you do.”

The way he said it, I wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or not, so I didn’t comment on it. I just bumped my shoulder against his. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

He nodded as we walked out the path leading toward my car. When we stopped by the driver side door, he put one hand on it and the other on my upper arm. “I’ll make this up to you.”

“You don’t have to make anything up to me. This isn’t your fault. I knew what I was doing. As long as you don’t forget I exist after the season is over, there won’t be anything to regret, all right?” I said, even though on the inside a small part of me was still frustrated and a bit depressed about all of this.

Kulti cocked his head. “You think I could forget about you?”

“No… well, I don’t know. You haven’t known me that long. I’m sure you have—“ I almost said ‘tons of friends,’ but at what point had this guy given me the idea that he had a lot of friends? Never. Not once. “I’m sure that you have plenty of distractions back home. I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I just know life gets in the way sometimes.”

“I don’t waste my time on things, Sal. Do you understand what I mean?”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled up, and hoarsely I answered. “Sort of.” He wouldn’t waste his time doing things with me if he didn’t like me and didn’t want to be my friend, I knew that much.

He opened his mouth and closed it. He wanted to say something; it was evident on his face. The German swallowed hard and an even look crossed his features, making me incredibly aware of everything: of the sticky summer night, the darkened sky missing its stars, the way his skin let off the barest hint of something sweet smelling. His fingers tightened over me, his thumbs digging into that groove where my shoulder met my collarbone.

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