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I don’t know why I do it, and I try to quickly meet his eyes again, but when I do, I see him staring back at me with curiosity.
The whole thing lasts a matter of seconds, though it feels like several minutes. I’m moving in slow-motion, trying to move past it. I sit on the edge of the bed, keeping my eyes on his face.
“Why did you drink so much?” It’s not like him, and even if I won’t admit it, it worries me to see him lose control like that. To most, it would seem like a kid letting off a little steam, but that’s so not like Zach.
If he wants to do that, he has other outlets. He takes it extra hard at practice or at the gym. He doesn’t drink.
He sits ups, scooting up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. I try not to watch his muscles flex. Try not to notice his abs pulling tight and his bicep flexing as he runs his fingers through his hair.
I have no idea why I’m so fixated on him not wearing a shirt at the moment. I’ve seen him without a shirt before. Hell, I’m seen him buck naked many times—happens in the locker room all the time, but my eyes never linger.
“Chloe.” His answer brings my attention back to his face.Thank fuck.
But it’s temporary relief because when the hell is he going to stop blaming himself for that? “Zach...” I start, but he shakes his head, stopping me.
“I hurt her. She should be mad at me, Adam. She has every right to hate me.”
I wince because hearing that physically hurts me somehow. I don’t want him to feel so guilty. I don’t want him to blame himself. “People break up. Especially in high school. It’s normal. It was a long time ago. She needs to let it go.”
“Adam.” His voice is stern, and the look he’s pinning me with right now is even more serious. “Please don’t.” He sounds so damn tortured.
I don’t get it. They didn’t even date that long. Chloe needs to move the hell on. I’m sorry she lost a good guy like Zach. Iam. But it’s not like they were going to get married.
He didn’t cheat on her. He was a great boyfriend from what I saw—not that I have any idea what being a great boyfriend entails, but still. He walked her to class. He forced me to eat lunch at the same table as her and her annoying as hell friends.
He was a good boyfriend.
But I still feel like there’s something there he isn’t telling me. Which really, really sucks because we’ve always told each other everything.
Well—almost everything. I guess I may have a thing or two I keep to myself, but that’s because I don’t fully understand it. Never have. So I just don’t really pay much attention to it. If I can’t explain it to myself, how am I supposed to explain it to him?
Maybe that’s how he feels about whatever happened with him and Chloe.
I don’t know. But surely he can manage to tell me something about it. All I know is he broke up with her and she went batshit crazy afterward. Telling everyone he’s an asshole. That all football players in Kensley are assholes.
Never really saying more than that. But it hurts him every single time, and I don’t understand why. It’s gutting me not to know what’s really going on with him. How can I fix it if he won’t tell me the whole story?
That’s all I want to do. I want to fix it for him. Make it better.
I sigh deeply and stand up, patting his calf over the blanket. “Fine. But get up and get your ass dressed. We have practice in an hour, and Mom made breakfast.”
He groans, reaching both hands up to cover his face. “Tell Coach I’m sick.”
“Yeah. Not a chance.” I grin at him when he drops his hands and looks at me with bleary, tired eyes. “I’ll do almost anything for you, but I’m not facing Coach and lying to him.” I head for the door and then look back at him quickly. “And I’m not letting you miss practice. Our first game is coming up soon.”
He flips me off, which makes me laugh as I grab some clothes and head toward the bathroom for a quick shower. I may love farming, and that’s where my future goals are, but I love winning also. Football is where Kensley wins.
We’re a great team, and we have a chance to go far this year. So yeah, Zach better brush it off and get the hell out of bed.
Practice is just as important as the actual game.
And we’re going to give it our all, even if I have to drag Zach’s hungover ass there and back.
FOUR
ZACH
I flop down on my bed, dirty and sweaty and not giving a flying fuck. “I’m dead.”
