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I hear the bounce, gravity setting in as it touches the court, but I have no idea if it went in, and nor do I care.
I told you what I am. I’m your good luck charm.
My abs tense. Ihavebeen playing better this week, heck, the last few. The energy, the liveliness…is she right?
“Give up already?” Hailey chants. Her certainty wraps around me again, only this time, it’s like a sweater instead of a noose.
My shoulders straighten, swelling. “You threatening me, Williams?”
“Maybe—Finn!” she screeches. My name a gnarled choke of a sound. “Ah, put me down,” she says, swatting at my limbs.
Her squeals are like a song to my ears I never want to let go of. So I don’t.
I stretch an arm above her head, the other smashed between her hip and the cushion of the pole I press her against. What is it about her that I can’t keep my hands off?
“Finn…” she rushes. “What are you doing?”
My eyes jump back and forth. I have no idea.
Not one.
All I know is with her, my head quiets. I don’t need music or noise, because she’s enough to still everything else.
I bump my nose into hers. “Do you want me to do something?” My voice a hair of a whisper.Want or need?I silently plead, pulling back enough so she can read what I’m begging to know.
Her eyes jolt and I have my answer once more.
Never has my ego been so bruised, fractured, or mutilated like this by one person. Not until I met her did I understand what disappointment really is.
She breathes life into me and then I’m being gutted, this cycle as endless as it is infinite. I’m dead. Hailey’s the one who’s killed me but also the only one who knows how to revive me. The fucking humor.
When will I learn?
“Your coach called?”
“What?” I snarl, baring my teeth. Her eyes are two round orbs.
“The other day.” Her throat bobs. “He called while you were on the couch. What did he want?”
My head’s already shaking, an “unbelievable” pushing its way off my tongue before she’s finished. Of course, she’d bring this up because it’s easier, right? A safer topic of conversation.
I look past her shoulder, suddenly not able to stomach the sight of her even if she’s still trapped underneath me.
My jaw tics and then it does it some more. “He’s the reason I’ve been out here so much.” More than my usual four hours a day. Two in the morning, two at night.
I use my thumb and pop my knuckles, and I can feel how she winces underneath me from the sound, but I’m indifferent.
“Said he found me a potential agent. An old friend of his, someone hetrusts.” The last word comes out with a bitter hiss.
She flinches again.
“That’s great—”
“—Don’t,” I rush. “Just…don’t.”
I don’t need her sympathy any more than I do her excuses. This is my fault. I pushed her, knowing she wasn’t ready, and I’m more upset with myself for knowing better.
I should try meditating…never mind, that shit sounds boring as hell.
