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I’ve never understood the questionable wisdom of the basketball team partying the night before the first practice.
According to Holden, it’s a boost to morale. Play hard, party hard. The team that gets drunk together wins together. Drink as a team, dominate as a team. Some mentality like that.
All I can say is it makes me grateful study groups don’t follow the same twisted logic. Then again, passing an exam isn’t exactly a team sport. In the end, we’re all looking out for ourselves.
“Coach had a whole last season speech.”
“That must have been strange for the juniors and sophomores on the team.”
His smile is brief. “It’shislast season. Coach is retiring at the end of this year.”
“Oh.”
Holden nods. “Yeah.”
I know he was already carrying around a lot of weight about this season. Responsibility. Hope. Dread. I’m guessing the pressure of a beloved coach’s final season isn’t helping.
The two girls are still standing on the other side of the table. Despite the early hour, they’re sporting full faces of makeup and high, bouncy ponytails. And they’re both staring at Holden.
He tilts his head toward the door, ignoring the attention. Maybe it’s white noise to him at this point. “Library?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
One week in, and I have a long list of assignments to tackle.
“Do you have any work to get done?” I ask, as we start across the covered walkway that leads to the library.
“Probably.”
Holden’s lazy attitude about academics drives me crazy, which he knows.
I roll my eyes and he smirks. Then grabs my hand and pulls me to the left. If there wasn’t a cover on my coffee, I’d be drenched.
“Let’s sit here for a sec.” He pulls me toward an open picnic table on the campus green.
Nerves pinball around in my stomach. He wants privacy, which means he wants to talk.
I haven’t decided what I want to know.
Ask.
Argue about.
And I’m out of time to decide.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
HOLDEN
Iglance over at Cassia. Her face is tilted back as she straddles the bench’s seat, soaking up the sunshine.
“What a beautiful day,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.
A robin lands on the tree branch above us, chirping cheerfully. Neither the nice weather or the merry sound do much to calm the anxiety squeezing my stomach.
After last night, I think we’ll be okay. I don’t think this will be the mistake that damages us past repair. But I can’t get the words she whispered—Stop doing things I’ll have to forgive. Because I’ll hate you a little more, every time—out of my head.
They echoed ominously in my head throughout my entire weight session. I can barely feel my shoulders right now, the muscles are so sore.
