“You should stop reading those gossip mags. They’re nothing but trash,” I say with a laugh and hope it’s at least half convincing.
“I tell her that all the time,” Lindsay adds, though my roommate waves us off.
My phone rings on my nightstand and I’m beyond grateful for the distraction. Morgan, being nosy as hell, has to see who’s calling me, and her brows furrow as she takes in the caller ID.
“Why is your mom calling you? Weren’t you with her all weekend?”
“I must’ve forgotten something.” I shrug and hit the little green button on my screen. “Hi, Mom.” The urge to leave the room is great as my friends scrutinize me.
Though my friends think I spent the weekend at home, in reality, I haven’t had a chance to talk to my mom in a few weeks. She, of course, wants to catch up on every little detail right now, which is impossible since I’m being watched like a hawk.
For the most part, I try to keep my answers short and sweet. The vaguer, the better in my opinion. But my mom is suspicious, considering I tend to be an open book with her. It’s the only way to keep her from panic spiraling and thinking something is wrong.
Like she is now.
“Sweetheart, are you okay? Is someone with you? Do you need help? Are you feeling unsafe? Is there anything I can do? Should I call campus authorities?”
“Mom, take a breath and slow down. I’m fine, I’m just exhausted and I wasn’t expecting your call. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. You know how I worry and you haven’t been home in ages. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” I risk a glance at my friends and their expressions match, full of confusion with their heads cocked. “Look, Mom, I have to go, but I promise to call you soon, okay?”
We hang up and I lean back against my bed, but I don’t have a minute to relax before I’m pounced on.
“Girl, I know you and your mom are close, but you were with her all weekend. Shouldn’t she be glad to be rid of you? Not calling you up within hours of you leaving?” Every word Morgan speaks is laced with suspicion. One eyebrow is raised and her lips are pursed like she’s already caught me in my lie. She has, but I refuse to admit it to her.
“You know my mom and everything we’ve been through. She needed to make sure I got back safely. I’m her only kid and she’s alone in her house. I’d be worried if she didn’t miss me.”
Lindsay looks like she’s already moved on and couldn’t care less, but my best friend continues to doubt me.
“Morgan, what is going on with you?”
“I don’t know. You’ve been different lately and distant. I feel like I hardly know you anymore, like I never see you.”
Training has consumed the majority of my time, as well as my secret rendezvous with my trainer.
“Plan a day for us and I’ll be there. I promise. I’ll even leave my phone behind if that’ll shut you up.”
I don’t like the way her eyes turn mischievous and her smile becomes devilish as she says, “Deal.”
“You look like you’re sleeping out there. Get your head in the game or get off the goddamn field.”
Tatum has spent the entire halftime break screaming at us. We’re down two-nothing against a team we should be obliterating. It’s embarrassing, but it’s my fault as well. I’m off my game and the team is feeling it.
“Sorry, Coach,” we mutter in unison.
He scoffs. “I don’t want apologies. I want to win. Get your asses back on the field and kick some ass.”
Before jogging back onto the field, I take a large gulp of water and toss the bottle in my bag. Coach Trevino grabs my arm and with a slight tug, yanks me toward him. I protest, but it falls on deaf ears.
“What the hell is going on with you? Is it this thing between us? Because if I’m the one making you play like shit, then whatever this is needs to stop. It’s embarrassing.”
I rear back. I couldn’t be more shocked unless he actually slapped me across the face. He cannot be serious.
“Don’t be so full of yourself. Not everything is about you. Sometimes we have off games and make bad plays. I’m not so obsessed with you I can’t think straight. Get your head out of your ass, Coach. It’s embarrassing.”
I storm onto the field with steam pouring from my ears. The nerve of that guy. Am I not allowed to have one bad day? Goddamn, I want to smack the pissy look right off his face.
The minute the whistle blows indicating the start of the second half, Tatum immediately starts yelling. How can any of us focus when all we can hear is him?
I get possession of the ball and make my way down the field. For some reason, Coach has put Samantha as the other striker. She’s open and I’m about to be double-teamed.
Much to my dismay, I pass her the ball, but she stands there like she doesn’t know how to use her legs.
“Move to the ball! What are you doing?” I scream and she scoffs and not-so-subtly uses her middle finger to scratch her cheek to flip me off. Bitch.
I run to drop back on defense, but it’s useless. The other team has scored yet another goal. At least this time, Paxton pulls Sam from the game. We kick off the ball at the whistle and despite our efforts, we lose. No, we don’t just lose, it’s a goddamn shutout.
I hang my head as I walk off the field. Both coaches look pissed with red faces and blood pressure that is bound to be through the roof. Tatum looks like his head is ready to explode, but Paxton starts the lecture before he gets a chance.
“Ladies, what happened out there should never have happened. You are all lightyears better than that team. If we want to make the finals and take this team to the championship, we need to do a lot better than what we did out there today. That was humiliating. Go wash up. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”
Without another word, the coaches leave as the other team boards the bus. I lag behind, needing to talk to my hotshot coach before I leave. I’m still fuming because of what he said to me and I won’t take it lying down. He’s the one who brought it up, not me. Maybe he’s the one who is too focused on me, not the other way around.
“You coming, Bri?” Morgan adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she stands over me. I push down my socks and pull out my shin guards before answering her.
“You go ahead. I’m right behind ya.” Feigning like I want to stretch some more, she leaves. Once I’m the last person left, I head into the field house.
The door is loud as it slams behind me and I’m glad. I want Tatum to hear me coming, to feel my wrath from down the hallway. I only hope Paxton is already gone. I don’t want to worry about him overhearing.
I’m crazed as I step into the office and kick one of the chairs, causing it to scrape against the concrete floor with a groan. The sound makes my ears bleed, but I’m too pissed off to care.
“I figured you’d come.”
His cocksure smirk enrages me. Caramel eyes glare at me, a contrast to his grin. Either he’s a sociopath or plain psychotic.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m not in the mood for this, Bria.”
“You think I am? Do you think I enjoy sneaking around and staying late to fight with you?”