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Sullivan turns around, surprise flashing on his face before he can school his features.
I run my hand over my face, letting it drop by my side. “I was an asshole this year. It wasn’t easy for me to watch you take my spot after I was injured, and I knew I’d have to work my ass off if I wanted to get it back, which again wasn’t easy. Seeing you around was a reminder of all I had to lose if I messed up, so I lashed out.”
“You mean you acted like a complete dickhead.”
“As if you were much better.”
He silently raises his brows but doesn’t try to contradict me.
“You’ve gotten better this year, and if you keep it up, you’ll make a good player. I was just trying to help.”
“Why?”
“Because I can?” I shrug. “Okay, there is also the fact that I’m pretty sure Nixon and Spencer are still at my place waiting to ambush me with another round of MCAT prep tests, and if I go back home, I’ll kill them.”
“So basically, I’m helping you. That’s what you want to say.”
I arrow my gaze on him. “Do you want that help or not?
CHAPTERFIFTY-TWO
JADE
May
My phone buzzes in my pocket just as Professor Reyes finishes her presentation. I pull it out, my stomach twisting as I look at the number on the screen before I silence it and shove it back in place, turning my focus back front.
“For our next class, I want you all to bring one photo for each technique we discussed today. I look forward to seeing them next week.”
My mind goes straight to possibilities. The day was nice, and I had some time, so I might as well go back to my apartment to grab my camera. It definitely beats sitting home and watching Netflix. If I watched another episode in the near future, I swear I might puke, which is saying something.
“Jade?”
I look up to find Professor Reyes watching me. “Can you wait a minute?”
“Sure.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other as she finishes the conversation with one of the students before turning her attention to me.
“I got the tickets for you.”
“Tickets?” On autopilot, I take the paper from her hand, scanning the front.
“For your exhibition. The opening day is this Saturday, and Angie, the owner, would love it if you’d be there.”
“ThisSaturday? As in two days from now, Saturday?” My heart does a little flip as I read the info on the ticket, and sure enough, it says right there: May 7th.
Holy shit, this is happening.
It’s really happening.
“Yes, this Saturday,” Professor Reyes chuckles, clearly amused by my reaction. At least one of us is. “Although she’s aware of your disease, so if you’re not feeling up to it…”
“No, of course.”
My exhibition.
In a freaking gallery.
