I shrug, shaking my head. “Guess they didn’t want me. But how could they when they have your application beside mine? You were made for this program, and let’s be honest, I don’t want to go to school anymore.”
Of course, if the opportunity came up, I would take it. But to save my pride, I figure going with that answer is best. She gives me a small smile. “True. But still, it would have been cool to go together.”
It would be, but what would what mean for Asher and me? I should probably talk to him about that. I’ve put in applications and resumes all over, and I’m not done. I’m about to send out more at the end of the month. Would he go with me? Should I focus on getting a job here in Nashville? Before I can get more into my head, Angie says, “I’m really excited. My parents…not so much.”
I smile. “It’ll be a change, but when you’re out there helping athletes kick addiction, they’ll be proud.”
She exhales hard. “Yeah, it’s gonna be awesome.”
“For sure.”
“Also,” she says, setting me with a look. “Don’t blame yourself for this shit with Taco.”
I swallow hard. “How’d you know?”
“You look at me like you broke me, and you didn’t. This was because of his choices, not yours. You didn’t know he was a sleazebag.”
“I did, and I didn’t. But I definitely wasn’t aware of what he was capable of.”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. He’s nothing to us.”
“No, he’s not,” I say, my heart swelling for her. “I’ll miss you, Ang.”
She beams. “Right back at you. But you and Asher can come visit me.”
She waggles her brows, and I turn. “I gotta go!”
Her laughter chases me out of the room, and I don’t mind it. I could have shared for hours about Asher, but I’m late for class. And knowing my luck, she’ll tell her mom, who will tell my aunt’s daughter, who will then tell my aunt, and she’ll tell my mom. The wicked, tangled web of the Assassins, it’s a blast. For this reason, I don’t say anything because I want to be the one to tell my mom. When, I’m not entirely sure, but I want to tell her.
When I get outside, the cold air hits me in the face as I head toward my next class. I’m almost there when my phone sounds. I pull it out of my coat pocket and see that it’s a message from Asher. His screen name, which he has changed, has me in a giggling fit. It takes a moment to focus on what he said, but when I do, I beam.
YourSexyManMeat: Of course she didn’t. She has nothing to go on until we’re ready for them to know. But, wait. You mean to tell me, I have to watch you, in little shorts, be an awesome badass volleyball star and not get a boner since I’ll be sitting between our moms?
I snort at his question as I shake my head.
Me: No one said you couldn’t get a boner. You’ll just need to contain it.
YourSexyManMeat: Like that’s doable.
Me: Jesus.
YourSexyManMeat: LOL. Fine, I’ll manage. But know this, Allison Titov. After you win and I get you home, I will be tearing those shorts off—with my teeth.
And with that, I trip over a tree root. Next thing I know, I’m facedown in the grass. I hear laughing, I even hear my heart beating, and I also feel pain in my face, but it doesn’t matter because I’m still grinning from ear to ear.
I sit in my locker, leaning on my knees as I text Posey.
She has me worried. She suffers from a thyroid disease that has the power to knock her on her ass. Worse than when I fell on campus—I mean awful. And every time it happens, I get so scared. I remember horror stories of her mom Elli’s episodes, and Posey’s can be just as bad, if not worse. The doctors have switched her meds, but she still doesn’t feel well. I hate that. I want her to feel as good as I do. Not that I’m telling her that. Again, not sure when I will. I need to make sure Asher and I are solid first. It’s all going so well, but I don’t know if he likes me like how I like him. I know he likes me, but does he love me?
Thankfully, Posey distracts me.
Posey: I’m fine.
Me: I don’t like when you’re sick.
Posey: I promise I’ll make it. I’m just super tired.
Me: Wait, you’re not going to bail on the group dance practice, are you? I hate that you’re sick, but even I won’t tolerate that bail.
Posey: I wanted to, but since it won’t be tolerated by you or Boon, I doubt I can.
Oh, thank God. Me: I’ll bring candy.
Posey: Great.
Posey: Oh, you don’t have to hide us anymore. Shelli and Aiden know.
Me: Really? How’d that go?
Posey: Good, she found him in my pantry.
Me: Why was your boyfriend in the pantry?
Posey: Long story short, I freaked and stuffed him in there because he was at the apartment and she showed up out of nowhere.
Me: Huh? Did she tell your mom?
Posey: No. She’s actually keeping it quiet.
Me: What are you bribing her with?
Before she can answer, Coach comes in, and we gather for a pregame talk. I know it’s silly to assume that Posey would have to bribe Shelli, but I know Shelli very well. She wants all this crazy shit for her wedding. These over-the-top fluffy dresses and more. Posey is the only reason I’m not stuck wearing a Gone with the Wind style dress. God bless her. But because of this, I know Shelli will use knowing about Boon to get Posey to do what she wants. It can go one of two ways—Shea and Elli will find out about Boon, or Shelli will be wheeling herself down the aisle. And the thing is, I don’t know which scenario is more likely to happen.
I’m excited to find out, though.
“All right, girls. Tough match, with Vandy. Their front line is a blocking team, but the left hitter, number eight, that girl is a beast with her hit. She has the highest number of spikes in the state, so block the hell out of her. Keep your heads in the game, talk to one another, and let’s go win the three sets we need!”
We all put our hands in, and on three, we yell, “Bullies!”
We line up in the hall in the order we’re to be announced. As I bounce back and forth, I’m always reminded of how my dad used to warm up before a game. He would say his ABC’s since his English wasn’t all that great. He said it would help him when he needed to cuss at someone in English. He always rocked left to right, and I do that now. It’s more of a bounce since I’m not on skates, but the motion is still the same. As I go through my alphabet, I rub my fingers along my shorts, and I feel this fluttering in my gut. Is it nerves? I think it might be because Asher will be out there to watch me.
Not as my best friend, but as my boyfriend.
I want to impress him. I want him to know he has the most talented and sexiest girlfriend. I want him to be proud that he gets to go home with me, even if no one else knows. A different sensation is going through my body, knowing he’ll be watching me. I used to look up into the stands and yearn for him. But now when I look, I won’t have to yearn because he’s mine.
“And now, your captain…your setter…number two…and making her senior year count, Allison Titov!”
I take in a deep breath and count to two before running out. Another thing my dad would do. It may be silly, but it’s his number and mine. His warm-up always seemed to work for him, and it may be all in my head, but it works for me too. The crowd claps for me as I slap hands with my teammates, but all I hear is him. Asher. I immediately look up into the bleachers, and between my mom and his, he’s standing, a pair of white-rimmed glasses over his patch, towering over everyone, calling my name through cupped hands.