AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just outside the tunnel after the bell ceremony, on the opposite side of the fence, standing amongst a sea of people converging onto the field to offer their congratulations and celebrate with us, he looked unbothered as ever with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The red-haired woman at his side tugging pointlessly at his arm as she hopped around excitedly
Aston didn’t look overwhelmed, exactly. If anything, his face was smooth, absent of all emotion. Maybe except for perhaps idle curiosity as he took all the excitement in.
It was such a stark contrast to the last image of him I had in my mind; I was almost convinced it wasn’t actually him.
I absently met handshakes and fist bumps of people I knew, but barely registered greeting. Everything around me seemed to fade, growing farther and farther away, as I drew closer to where he stood. Heart racing. Gut in my throat.
I had to walk past him. There was no getting around it. It was the only way into the locker room, other than walking around the field and using the entrance under the bleachers. The guys would notice. It would only draw more attention to my weird behavior.
So I grinned and beared through it, praying to whatever powers that be my roiling gut was wrong.
Even when his green-gray gaze met mine through a throng of people.
Even when he hesitantly lifted a hand in a stilted, unsure wave.
I didn’t let a single muscle on my face move, even if inside, I was freaking the fuck out.
If I didn’t have my confirmation then and there with that single wave that that was in fact Aston fucking St. James standing before me, at my school, at my football game, I would’ve had it not a second later, when my dad came into view. His expression grave and resigned as his gaze flickered between us, before settling on mine.
I barely remember stripping off my uniform and jumping in the shower once I busted into the locker room. Barely remember talking and shooting the shit with the guys, even though I know I did. My smile felt more wooden than usual, my words stilted, but no one seemed to pick up on anything out of the ordinary.
Even after, when I all but ran from the room like the hounds of Hell were on my ass, did anyone say anything other than, “Good game, Riviera,” or to ask if I was going to be at McKinley’s for the afterparty.
I nodded, smiled, confirmed I’d see them all there, and then I got the fuck out of there.
My dad was waiting for me in the parking lot, standing outside his fancy-ass black Navigator, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. Eyes trained on the ground as if all of the world’s problems could be solved in the chipped asphalt of Grady Prep’s parking lot.
He barely said a word once he noticed me, other than a quick, “Congrats,” as he finally pulled himself away from the SUV to grab my duffle and slap my back.
After tossing it in the backseat, he joined me in the front, sliding behind the wheel.
For a long moment, neither of us said anything. Just watched as game-goers skipped across the lot, finding their cars, and pulling out in a train of unmoving traffic.
Dad started the engine, but made no move to go anywhere.
Finally, I could take it no more, and asked what I already knew, “Is it him?”
A single concise nod is all I got.
“You’re not fucked,” he says now, voice quiet, and oddly gentle.
I arch a brow, cutting him a look that silently called him out on his bullshit.
“Vale, what happened when you were kids—”
Scoffing, I kick a leg up, resting my heel on the black leather seat. Wrapping my arm around my bent knee, I say, “You really think he’s just gonna let bygones be bygones after what happened? After—”
“He had years to—”
I cut him off. “Years to fucking plot his revenge. I mean…you saw the crime scene photos, right? He fucking gutted him. It was a massacre.” I wave my fingers. “Not that Rick didn’t deserve it, but you know what I mean.”
Dad shoots me a harsh look.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I had every damn right to snoop. It was my file.”
He huffs. “No, the file just so happened to contain reports of you as a witness and victim. A minor at that.”
I scowl at that. Not a fucking victim.
