Page 28 of An Uphill Battle

For a few seconds, Didi, Dad, and I sit in a stunned silence. At least until we hear the front door slam shut. Then all hell breaks loose, with both of my parents trying to talk over one another. Finally, Didi shoots Dad “The Look,” and he quiets down so that she can speak. “Drake, what on God’s green earth wasthat?”

I scratch my head, debating how to answer her question. “That was... a trainwreck.”

“That’s a given, son,” Dad says. “As much as Didi and I would like to know what in tarnation just happened, you need to go after her!” I sit there, processing his words, and he shouts, “Go on, now! What’re you waitin’ for?” His raised voice spurs me into action, becauseFuck! What am I waitingfor?

Shoving my chair back from the table, I take off after Azalea. I throw open the front door, and my heart clenches at the sight before me—Azalea sitting in her car, tears and mascara trailing down hercheeks.

She sees me and cranks the engine. “Azalea!” I shout, sprinting the short distance from the door to her car. “Please, listen to me, please!” She shakes her head. “Goddamn it, woman!” I pound my fist against her window, causing her to jump. “Please.” My voice cracks. “Just roll down the window and listen. I’m fuckingbegging.”

I offer up silent thanks when she rolls her window down. But she doesn’t give me a chance to speak. No, she lights right into me. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? No. You know what? Still shame on you, Drake Collins. You’re as cold-hearted as theycome!”

“Please justwait—”

“Wait? Wait for what? Wait for Kelly to walk in again? How ’bout not? I’ve learned my lesson, twice over now. Every single time I think we could have something, freaking Kelly James comes along and ruinsit!”

I stand there, silent, not knowing what to say to fix this mess of a misunderstanding. Taking my silence as a confirmation of my guilt, she throws the car in reverse and peels out of my driveway, leaving me full ofregret.

I watch helplessly, with my heart in my throat, as she tears down our private drive, tires spinning and gravel flying. This is such a fucking mess, and I don’t have even the slightest clue of how to remedy it. Girl’s some kind of stubborn, and once she sets her mind on something, it’sset.

And right now, it’s set on me being a no-good, two-timingdog.

Anger. Regret. Doubt. Sadness. All of these emotions are racing through my veins, weighing me down. My shoulders slump under the heaviness of my thoughts, and I turn to head back inside, but my parents are standing in the doorway waiting forme.

“Sweetie,” Didi says, reaching out to comfort me. “What happened? I didn’t realize Kelly and Azalea knew eachother.”

“They don’t. Not really.” Scrubbing my hands over my face, I let out a long, angry groan. “Y’all don’t know that I actually met Kelly before college started. Met her at orientation weekend, and we...” I stop, not quite knowing how to tell my parents that she was pretty much a one-nightstand.

“We get it, son. Carry on,” Dad says, sounding proud and disappointed all atonce.

“Yeah, well. One night, there was a party out at Jake Bishop’s house, and Azalea showed up lookin’ for me, and one thing led toanother—”

“Drake Ulysses Collins! She was only a child then!” Didi screams,outraged.

“She was almost sixteen, and all we did was kiss. Only, Kelly walked in right in the middle of it and announced to Azalea that she was mygirlfriend.”

“Oh. Oh, my,” Mama D titters, worrying her apron between her fingers. “And now she thinks you’re baiting her hook while keeping Kelly on the line,too.”

“Pretty much. What do Ido?”

“I wish I knew what to tell you, baby. I really do. Best you can do is to give her some space fornow.”

“But not too much space!” Dad adds with a knowinglook.

14

Drake

Fedup and no longer feeling thankful, I haul ass down our driveway, in much the same way Azalea just did. With angry, jerky movements, I dial Simon’s number, knowing he’ll be home. Even if his dad were alive, there’s no way in hell he’d ever spend a holiday withhim.

“’Sup?” he answers, sounding slightlybuzzed.

“On my way over,” I clip out before ending thecall.

Ten minutes later, I’m rolling up his driveway and slamming my truck into park. Simon meets me at the door, unopened beer in hand. “To what do I owe thepleasure?”

“Cut the shit and hand me that can.” I try to reach for it, but he pulls it out of my reach. “Don’t fuck with me, Simon,” I all butgrowl.

“You want to drink, you tell me why you’re here. Last I heard from the lovebirds next door, you finally grew a pair and asked Azalea to spend Thanksgiving with you. Yet, here youare.”

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