Page 6 of Hard Count
Great. Not only am I going to be lectured about fighting and staying focused on the field. I will also get an earful about distractions off the field too.
Drew might be a distraction I can't afford but I can't deny that part of me is willing to pay the price to be near her again.
3
DREW
THREE WEEKS UNTIL GAME ONE
When I saw the listing for my new apartment, it sounded perfect. Two bedrooms, fully furnished, and within walking distance to campus. On paper it had everything I needed. Looking at it now I want to check back into my hotel room.
At least there I had clean sheets and pillows. I’ve been at my dad’s house the last few weeks and I can’t do that anymore.
“It’s a little bare,” my new roommate, Frankie, says from the doorway.
A quick laugh escapes me. “You could say that.” The mattress is stripped, the walls are gray and lifeless, and a lone desk in front of the window is the only piece of furniture in the room.
I left Florida over a month ago with nothing more than a couple of suitcases full of clothes and personal items.I packed as much as I could into my little car. There wasn't room for extras like bedding and curtains.
There’s also something about new home decor that emphasizes a fresh start. I may have moved back to Montgomery with apprehension, but it doesn’t mean I won’t make the best of the situation.
“I was going to the store anyway. I’ll add linens to the list.” I roll my suitcases into the corner of my room and turn toward Frankie. “Did you want to come and help me pick everything out?” I ask as I check my purse for my keys and phone.
A hint of surprise flashes in her eyes before she recovers from my invitation. “Sure. My snacks could use a restock before classes start.”
“An absolute necessity,” I joke, following her out of the apartment. “What happened with your previous roommate?” The apartment popped up in a last second hail mary search. If not for Frankie’s roommate fiasco, I would be living with my dad permanently.
“Irreconcilable differences. She’s dating my ex-boyfriend and couldn’t comprehend why I didn’t want her inviting him over and shoving theirlovein my face,” she says, buckling her seatbelt.
“I’m sorry.” I wince.
“Good riddance to both of them. They’re narcissists and are more than likely only together to boost their future careers. At least I’ll have a front row seat to watch them implode.” She grins wide enough that dimples pop in her cheeks.
She fills me in on her theater classes and the requirements for graduation. It’s like a whole microcosm living and breathing within the university with its own rules, players, and drama. Everyone is dating, cheating, and pining over each other. Then they also have to work together.Absolutely fascinating.
“It won’t be hard working with your ex?” I ask as I pull into a parking spot.
She chuckles. “No. I broke up with him for a reason. I don’t care that they’re together. It doesn’t bother me to see them all over each other. I just don’t want them in my personal space.” She unbuckles and slips out of the car. I do the same and wait for her by the trunk.
“You’re better than me. I wouldn’t be able to look at my exes. Let alone work with them in a professional capacity.”
“We have the same major. There will be no escaping him.” She snags a cart as we pass the rows of them at the front of the store. “Hence the snacks. I’m going to need popcorn for the show. I’ll push. You lead the way.”
We stop by the dollar section first. It never fails that I find one or two things I don’t need but have to have. Today it’s a sticky note holder, pencil cup, and a rotating mirror with different magnifying levels.
“What about you?” Frankie asks, flipping through a rack of jeans.
“What about me?” I eye her over the table of shirts I’m sifting through.
“Tell me about your exes. Did you leave anyone with a broken heart when you transferred?”
A humorless laugh leaves my mouth. “No. Commitment issues.”
“You or the guys you dated?”
I tilt my head and flip through my rolodex of ex-boyfriends. “Me. Them. Both. Mainly me,” I admit. “My parents divorced when I was young. My mom wasn’t exactly a model example on how to have healthy relationships.” I shake my head. Frankie doesn’t need a run down of my messed up childhood.
She pulls a pair of jeans off the rack and holds them up to her waist the same time I cover myself with a shirt.
