Page 25 of The Truth About Love

I can’t think of anything worse than dragging Summer-Raine to dinner where we’d have to listen to Fred and Mia argue all evening.

The bell rings for the end of lunch and I wrap up my unfinished sandwich, stuffing it inside my satchel. On the walk to my last class, with Fred’s words echoing in my ears, I text Summer-Raine.

Me:Pretty girl, are you coming to the game on Friday?

Summer-Raine:“Pretty girl?”

Me:I couldn’t find an Auden quote to call you beautiful, so I had to wing it.

Summer-Raine:*Gif of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson rolling his eyes*

I snort, drawing the attention of a group of girls in their freshman year who giggle as they pass by.

Me:So, the game?

Summer-Raine:Probably not.

Me:Can I persuade you to come cheer me on?

Summer-Raine:Wouldn’t waste your breath, but I’ll be cheering you on from the comfort of my bedroom. Go kill it, Quarterback.

Disappointment settles in my gut that she won’t be cheering me on for real, but I get it. She’s still new in town, her only friend is Marlowe who I never actually see her talk to and whatever is going on between us is still in its very early stages. I also get the feeling she had a rough time at her old high school.

So I understand why she wouldn’t want to come.

But it doesn’t stop me wishing that she would.

***

I’m met with the stench of cheap booze and gyrating bodies the moment I turn up at the afterparty. It’s Friday and as Fred predicted two days ago, the team and I are riding the high of the first win of the season.

We’re at a house on the very same street I was waiting on last Saturday night to pick up Summer-Raine for our date. But though she lives only a few doors down and can probably feel the thrumming of the music vibrating her floors, she won’t be here. She wasn’t invited.

Am I an asshole for not mentioning it to her? Probably.

I would have done so if she’d come to watch me play, but I figured if she wasn’t up for a football game, she sure as shit wouldn’t be ready for a seniors-only house party. Especially as the ones around here can get a little crazy.

I cut around a couple fucking against the wall in the entryway and a group of guys snorting lines of white powder off the console table, and head straight for the kitchen, pouring myself a beer from the keg on the centre island. Fred steps up behind me, pouring his own beer and clapping me on the shoulder.

Bringing the red solo cup to my lips, I shift my eyes across the room.

“Man,” Fred whistles. “Have you seen Elena Bodega tonight? She looks fine as hell.”

I find the girl he’s talking about standing with a small group of her friends that I recognise from the volleyball team and cast my eyes over her.

A scrap of electric blue material wraps around her body, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Her hair, long and mahogany, tumbles down her back in manmade waves and her lips are painted the boldest shade of red.

“Yeah, she does,” I agree.

She’s gorgeous, but she does absolutely nothing for me.

“Mia know you’re here?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow in his direction.

“You kidding? She’d freak if she knew where I was.” He scoffs. “Told her I was visiting my grandparents in Key West this weekend.”

“So, you’ve got a completely Mia-free weekend?”

He grins. “Damn right. Need the time off, to be honest.”

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