Page 75 of Kitty Season
In the blink of an eye, the tension in the room feels stifling, and I don’t think I’m alone in that observation. In sync as always, Moms clear their throats.
“Why don’t we go grab some snacks, Fifi. Would any of you like anything from the cafeteria? It’s bound to be hideous.”
Once we’ve all politely declined, they advise they will bring us something back, something nice anyway, then leave. Delphi pauses as she passes Brady to lean in and whisper in his ear. Whatever she said forces a shy grin to break free and light Brady’s face, and frees a flurry of butterflies in my gut.
Yup definitely cracked something in my head.
“I don’t know why they bothered asking. They were always going to empty the shelves.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Quinn replies while accepting the jacket Brady hands her. “You haven’t eaten yet.”
What bug represents a twinge of jealousy and shit yourself fear? Whatever they are, they’ve just swarmed and are eating those weak-ass pussy butterflies up. “You two rode in together?”
“I, I wanted to make sure you were okay, but, I um, don’t have a car and Quinn?—”
“Does,” I finish, skipping right over the part where Brady wanted to check on me, and going straight to them being alone. In my mind’s eye I picture them, cozy in Quinn’s flash car, her hair windswept because no matter the weather, she always drives with the window down just that little bit. His cheeks flushed red as he looks over at her from the passenger side. What did they talk about? Brady’s heroism? My unplanned foster parent reveal? I knew my moms were coming, but I didn’t expect Quinn to be because she said she would likely hang out with Lotte. My moms know better than to talk about my pastwith friends, but Brady doesn’t. For him, my loose lips provide a perfect opportunity to swoop in and prove to Quinn what a low-life I am.
Hey, he wouldn’t be wrong. And it would facilitate my plan with little effort required on my part. But the prospect of my genius coming to fruition has bile rising in my throat, and a well overdue acknowledgment of what I want, and don’t want, hitting me harder than that prick Mahomes ever could.
I don’t want to lose Quinn. I want Brady. And I’m not ready for what’s only just started to end.
Our 5-0 win against Providence handed me a third shutout, and sealed us a semi’s birth against Ohio, who won against Michigan earlier today. You wouldn’t have guessed that had you entered the rooms after the game.
The mood was proud, but somber.
No matter how much animosity you possess, or once possessed towards them, having a teammate taken away by paramedics is one of the worst feelings in the game. Sure, it’s a heads down, bums up deal till the clock runs out, and fighting through that anxiety to clinch a win is great. But then when that final buzzer sounds, your thoughts go straight to them.
In this case, to Troye.
Escorted out by Assistant Coach White, his hot mums left immediately, but Quinn remained in her seat and I knew why. With one glance, one nod, she was making sure I was okay, and telling me she wanted me with her. And of course, here I am.
Letting her go in alone was her idea, one I was happy to go along with. Did I want to see him? Yes. Did I want to admit that? No. I was certain he wouldn’t want me here, but was happy to be proved wrong. I never thought I’d say this, but Troye Becker looked happy to see me. Dude straight up smiled. In fact, you could almost say he had an instant glow up. Then I did, then Quinn did, and now the three of us are beaming like idiots on thedrive home, because much to their disgust, Troye chose to ride with us rather than his moms.
Like what the hell is happening?
Squished in the back seat, I’m listening to their conversation and expecting his contempt, cynicism, or my third wheel feeling to kick in, but it hasn’t.
“So Mahomes got ejected?” the man himself asks, grimacing slightly as he turns to face me.
“He did. Coach thinks he’ll be suspended, too.”
Puffing out his cheeks, Troye exhales slowly. “I mean it serves him right, but that’s gotta hurt. Ohio’s already booked a spot in the semis. If he gets more than a game he’ll miss the first.”
“Dad said he’ll get at least two,” adds Quinn, eyes squinting to see me in the rear view mirror. “Maybe three. And that their coach was screaming so loudly he could hear him from our locker room.”
“You could.” Loosening my seat belt, I shift forward and stick my head between the front seats. “Word for word. I thought Coach was terrifying, but that dude had our whole team shitting themselves.”
Troye snorts, then leans across to play with a loose strand of Quinn’s hair. A tender moment destroyed by what comes out of his mouth, “Poor Cory, what a shame to ruin those lovely Spider-Man shorts.” Idle fingers stop mid-twirl. “God I sounded like my mom then.” Quinn’s eyes find me again in the mirror and widen. I know what she wants without saying it. We’d agreed before seeing Troye that we wouldn’t bring up his moms till we knew he was okay. We now know that it’s time.
Hoping this won’t be the end of our truce, I clear my throat, “Speaking of parents.”
“Wow. Took you longer than I thought it would. Has it been killing you?”
“Yes,” Quinn and I groan, before she adds, “But we swear we weren’t gossiping. And we both agree that you have every right to your privacy, but?—”
“But?” Troye interrupts. “You’re busting your balls to know the deal?”
“Yes.” Again it’s in unison, but there’s no groaning. Just silence as we wait.
