Page 17 of The Heartbreak Blitz

Itap Charley on the shoulder. It’s the first time she’s been on the bus to go to an away game, and she’s sitting next to one of our equipment managers, staring out a foggy window. “Hi, fellow group member.”

She whirls, peering at me between the seats. “Do you usually sit here?” She darts her gaze at the other open seats as if she’d known, she would’ve sat somewhere else.

Why does that not surprise me?

I make myself comfortable in the luxe seats. “I usually sit in the back, but I saw you were sitting here, so?—”

“So, you thought you’d sit behind me like a creep?”

“Who said anything about being a creep?” I can’t keep my lips from tugging into a smile. “I’m your friend.”

“That’s a generous use of the definition of the word. We’re acquaintances at best.”

“Please. You know I’m starting to grow on you.”

“Like a fungus, maybe,” she retorts, her eyes sharp and calculating.

“Ew, do you have a fungus? As your friend, I have an obligation to tell you that you should probably take care of that.”

She sneers before turning around and pulling her plain black bag onto her lap. I switch my attention toward the glass pane to my right as the rest of the guys file onto the bus. Through the gap between the glass and her seat, I see her reflection in the haze of fog. Her eyes are open, troubled, clutching her bag like a buoy in rough waters.

She’s…intriguing. I’ll give her that. I keep getting sucked back in time and time again. If this was another girl, I would’ve given up by now. But she’s unlike any other girl I’ve met. I don’t have to try hard with women. They sort of just pop into view—perks of being on a respected college team and, subsequently, a big man on campus.

But Charley-not-Charlotte…is unamused by my popularity or my charms. It’s a shot to the ego and refreshing all at the same time.

Rifling in my bag, I attempt to settle in for the four-hour bus ride. I grab a piece of gum and slide it between the seat and the window. She sees it coming in the reflection, her worried gaze turning to stone in an instant. “Gum?” I ask.

She shakes her head, pulling away as if the gum is diseased.

Okay…

I dig some more into my bag after unwrapping and popping the gum into my mouth. Maybe gum isn’t her thing? The utter chaos of my Bulldog-blue overnight bag makes it difficult to find anything, but luckily, my hand closes around a Snickers bar.

“Hey,” I whisper, leaning forward.

She ignores me.

“Psst… Charley-not-Charlotte.”

Her hands leave clear streaks in the glass as she uses the window to help turn toward me. “Are you going to annoy me the entire trip?”

“I’m being helpful.” I hold up the Snickers with my best grin. “Do you want?”

“Why do you keep trying to feed me?”

“It’s a candy bar, not a four-course meal. Offering snacks to friends is normal.”

“There’s that loose definition again.” She turns around again, but this time, she sits straight. Her profile greets me in the reflection, marred by the clear streaks her fingers made. One of them slices right through her eye, her troubled expression stark.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Grief can come in waves. Some days, it’s as if I’m back on that field, leaning over Brady, except I understand that he’s dying. He’s dying right in front of me…and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s overpowering. Like a tsunami hitting the shores. From a distance, the fear is slow to come, then as it draws nearer, it’s inescapable. Complete devastation.

I don’t know much about Charley, but what I do know makes us kindred spirits. There’s the loss connection, but also, she can’t seem to do anything right when it comes to being Coach’s assistant. I’ve felt like that. I’ve been that person. Late when I wanted to be early. Mess up when I wanted to be perfect.

She hasn’t acknowledged my question, so I get closer. “Are you sure?”

She huffs, ripping open the front zipper on her bag and taking out ear buds before fixing them in place.

---