Me: Night Adds.
I send her a red heart emoji too.
Fuck it.
Let’s go.
TWENTY-SIX
ADDIE
Our first game of my last volleyball season went well. We won the first two sets and even finished earlier than normal.
Basically, we crushed them.
School was rampant with rumors when I first arrived this morning. The fight between Liam and Beck was far bloodier and dragged on much longer. I was shoved out of the way by Beck because Liam was actually going to hit me. We’re caught up in a supposed love triangle and everyone is talking shit.
It’s literally the fourth day of school and this is what’s happening to me. So bizarre.
I told the truth to anyone who asked, not caring who knows—and not that many people actually asked. Our school is small and the rumors spread so fast, everyone already knows what happened in the library yesterday, including teachers and staff. I get a lot of stares when I first arrive, but by lunch, everyone is pretty much over it, thank goodness.
I wasn’t lying when I told Beck I would miss seeing him at school, but it was almost a relief that he wasn’t here today, as well as Liam. Especially Liam.
He’s the last person I want to see. If he never came back, I’d be okay with it.
Though I missed him, Beck is also a distraction I didn’t need today, especially with our first game looming. I was nervous all day, working myself up. Freaking out that I might make a mistake or play like crap.
But now the game is done and we played fabulously. Coach was happy and I’m in a good mood as I drive to Beck’s house.
I’m also nervous.
Going to see Beck at his house to drop off his homework is such a flimsy excuse, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. He has to. He’s the one who pointed out his teachers would most likely email him his assignments. A few of his teachers said exactly that to me when I asked.
I don’t even care. I want to see him.
Pretty sure he wants to see me too.
I texted him before I left the high school to let him know I was on my way. The moment I pull in front of his house, the front door is opening, and there he is, waving at me from the front porch.
Once I put my car in park and shut off the engine, I sit there for a moment, staring at him, my heart starting to race. He’s so freaking gorgeous. With the handsome, all-American good looks and the big, muscular body that I had my hands all over only a few nights ago. Despite his size, he moves with an almost graceful ease, ambling toward me wearing a gray Badgers football T-shirt and a pair of navy gym shorts, his feet in Nike slides.
I climb out of the car, smiling at him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stops directly in front of me. The sun has mostly set, the sky streaked with vivid pink and orange, thanks to a fire somewhere above us, and it casts Beck’s face in the perfect light.
Golden hour indeed.
“Heard you guys won,” he says, slipping his hands in his pockets, an easy smile stretching his lips. “Congrats.”
“Thank you. It was an easy game.” I shrug.
“You kicked their asses.” When I frown, wondering how he knows so quickly, he explains, his expression sheepish, “I watched your game on my phone.”
“Oh right. They broadcast them sometimes.” How sweet that he watched.
“Yeah. It was kind of shit reception, but I saw most of it. You did great.” His gaze slides down me, nice and slow, making me tingle. “I really like the new uniforms.”
I’m still a little sweaty and I can feel tendrils of hair coming undone from the extra tight French braids Tori did for me before the game, but I feel freaking beautiful under Beck’s watchful gaze. “Thanks. I like them too.”
Our uniform shirts are white with blue stripes on the arms and our mascot and number on the front of them. I glance down at myself, hating how my sports bra minimizes my boobs. I practically look flat-chested right now. “I like the shirts.”
“Me too,” he says, taking a step forward, his arm stretching out. His finger brushes against the small Badger strutting on my shirt, just below my left collarbone. His touch burns through my shirt, as if his finger actually presses against my skin. “I especially like the Badger.”
“Studly?” That’s our mascot’s name. Silly, right?
“Yeah.” He smiles. Taps Studly the Badger a couple of times before his hand drops. I already miss his touch. “Studly.”
We smile at each other like idiots for a moment before I realize I came here for a reason, beyond seeing his pretty face and basking in his presence. “I brought your homework.” I gesture toward my car where my backpack sits in the passenger seat.
“My teachers already sent me everything,” he says, his smile growing. “You didn’t need to drive all the way over here. I probably should’ve texted you.”
“Oh.” My heart falls a little and I feel dumb. Maybe he didn’t want me to come to his house?
No. He definitely wanted me to come over. I know he did. He could’ve said no.
“Guess I didn’t need to bring it over, huh?” I say with a shrug.
“I’m glad you did. I’ve been lonely all day. Everyone’s busy while I’m sitting at home, bored out of my mind,” he admits.
“You actually miss school?” I’m teasing him, but he nods, his expression solemn.
“Yeah. I miss seeing my friends. Football.” He hesitates for the briefest moment. “Definitely you.”
My heart trips over itself at his admission and I try to play it off. It’s so hard, though, because I don’t know where we stand right now. We hook up Friday and Saturday night, and then nothing else happens. He acts like the same ol’ Beck at school yesterday, too. Meaning, he doesn’t necessarily treat me like a girlfriend, so I don’t know what he wants from me.
This last week has been incredibly confusing.
“Well, guess you can’t miss me because here I am,” I say, my voice light and casual.
Hmm, maybe that’s what he wants.
My heart literally hurts at the thought.
“Yeah. I’m glad you’re here, Adds,” he says, his voice low, making me warm.
My throat is dry and I don’t know what to say next. Swallowing hard, I’m scrambling to come up with something when he beats me to the punch.
“Tell me what happened at school today.”
I lean against my car, thinking over today’s events.
“They were talking about the fight, I’m sure,” he adds.
“Oh yeah. The rumors were crazy.” I roll my eyes and he chuckles. “They were saying you shoved me out of the way at the last minute because Liam was going to hit me. Can you imagine?”
He grows somber. “I would’ve killed him if he did that.”
From the serious tone of his voice, I half-believe him.
“They also made it seem like the fight was a lot bloodier. You were both horribly beaten. Blood everywhere. I’m surprised you didn’t have to go to the hospital.” I’m teasing, trying to make him smile, which he does.
“I hope you know I’m not a violent person,” he says, his tone solemn. “I don’t know what came over me yesterday.”