Page 67 of Before You
“You’re not listening, are you?” he asks, giving me a look.
I open my mouth, planning to say I was, but we both know I’d be lying. “Yeah, I wasn’t listening.”
“I asked how things are going with your family?” Asher asks, and I push a smile on my face.
“They’re good,” I say, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me because I wouldn’t believe me either. “They’re happy Mirabelle’s engaged because it gives them something else to focus on. Mira’s PI hasn’t found anything, and neither have my parents.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, but I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.Did Charlie talk to him about the party?
I look at the ground, noting the cracks in the pavement. “It is what it is,” I say, keeping it vague because talking about Bailey is honestly the last thing I want to do right now. It only makes my cravings for the euphoric feeling of forgetting stronger.
Maybe I’m like cracked pavement, pieces of myself slowly being chipped away. I wonder how long I have until the tinychips split to create a substantial crack—or maybe they already have.
“How are you doing with it all? Has he . . .you know, called you recently?”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Why are you asking?”
“Because you’re my best friend, and I’m worried about you.”
Tell him, my brain screams at me, but the thought of how differently Asher would look at me after knowing the truth makes me more nauseous.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay,” I say, trying to believe the words coming out of my mouth.
The truth is I’m lying to both of us.
~
I walk into the living room, looking for where I left my sneakers, when I run into Trent camped out on the couch with his laptop. Turning around to leave would make it more obvious I’m avoiding him. Even before Marley was in the picture, I wanted nothing to do with him. Trent is the kind of guy who thinks the zeroes in his bank account give him an excuse to act like a douche, and I’m irritated I’ve tolerated it as long as I have simply because he’s my teammate.
Trent looks up, tipping his chin in acknowledgment. “Hey, Walker. Haven’t seen you around much the past few weeks,” he says, stretching.
“Yeah, been busy,” I say, scratching the back of my neck, glancing around for my shoes. I stopped by the flower shop yesterday after Asher and I got back from study hall. I was helping Eddie unload a new shipment, and he kept making comments about how long my hair was getting. I told him he was being rude, especially when he wasn’t paying me to be there,but the old man wasn’t wrong. It’s longer than normal since my mom usually cuts it, but I figured it’d be better if she thought I was taking care of myself before they come this weekend, so I didn’t cancel the appointment Eddie scheduled for me this afternoon. I’m not going to make it on time if I can’t find my shoes.
“I heard your family is coming to the game this weekend,” he starts, and I can feel the tension in my body start to coil.
He’s not seriously going to—
“If you need any extra tickets, you can have mine,” Trent continues, and I blink in surprise, the offer entirely catching me off guard.
“Thanks,” I say, hating the twinge of guilt surfacing in the pit of my stomach. I have no reason to feel guilty after the way he treated Marley, but a part of me is wondering if I’m the asshole in the situation now for not saying anything to Trent. “They have season tickets, but I appreciate the offer.”
Trent shrugs, closing his laptop to rub his temples. “No big deal. Just wanted to let you know you could have ’em.”
“I appreciate it,” I say, scanning the room again before spotting my sneakers under the couch. I must have kicked them underneath when I went upstairs earlier. I pull them out, loosening the laces to slip them on.
“You heading out again?”
I glance up, meeting his curious gaze. “Yeah. I thought I’d get a haircut before this weekend.”
Trent cracks a smile, shaking his head. “Man, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were seeing someone with how often you’re gone.”
I force a wry smile to match the laugh coming out of my mouth. “Funny,” I remark, standing up as my knee twinges.
“There’s more to life than football, Walker. Hell, you might even play better than you already are if you just loosen up a little,” Trent says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say noncommittally.
“Whatever you say, but your loss is my gain.”
