Page 30 of Things I Wish I Said
“Is that a girl I hear?” Ryleigh croons over the line.
“Uh . . .”
She bursts out laughing on the other end, which sends her into a coughing fit.
Panic squeezes my chest in a vise while I listen to her attempt at breathing, which sounds a lot more like wheezing. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy,” she croaks after what feels like an eternity, her voice as rough as sandpaper.
I give her another moment to compose herself while my stomach sinks. I’m reminded of my father and those last few months before his diagnosis where he seemed to develop a cough overnight, one that lingered longer than any cold should.
A swell of emotion flickers to life, threatening to ignite—and I know from experience, if I don’t snuff it out, it’ll consume me.
I clear my throat, cursing myself for what I’m about to ask. “So, uh, I was just wondering if maybe we needed to lay down some ground rules,” I say, careful to keep it down so Hannahcan’t hear me.
“Ground rules,” she repeats.
“Yeah, you know, kind of like guidelines or—”
“I know what ground rules are, and the rules are, there are no rules.”
I take this in, then wonder if she knows what I’m getting after. “But—”
“Look, we’re both just barely adults here, and we live miles apart. Different town. Different people. School district. They’re practically two different worlds as far as I’m concerned. As long as you’re discreet, I have zero problem with you hooking up with half the cheerleading squad if you want to. My mother is the only person who needs convincing. Everyone else is irrelevant.”
“So you don’t care if I . . .”
“Get laid?”
Fuck.
I run a hand over the back of my neck and grimace. It’s bad enough that I feel like an asshole most days, but one conversation with her and I feel like an even bigger piece of shit. “Not how I was going to put it, but . . . yeah. Does asking make me a dick?”
“No. I’d say it makes you a normal guy our age. In fact, I’d say asking at all, considering the circumstances, makes you pretty decent.” She sighs, and I’d love to know what she’s thinking.
“So, even though we’re supposed to be a thing for the summer . . . you don’t care?”
“Fake, remember? I have one goal. Nothing else matters. One of us may as well get some action, and it’s certainly not going to be me. Most guys aren’t looking for bald chicks with regular hospital visits and a chronic cough.”
“Don’t say it like that.” I frown.
“What? It’s true. I don’t see any dudes lining up around the block to hook up with me. Although, I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I could find someone with a fetish for the terminally ill.”
“Ry.”
“Ooh. Shortening my name, already? I’m shocked we’re moving so fast.”
I bite back the urge to tell her she’s beautiful. Mostly because I have no idea where the hell it’s coming from or why I want to reach through the phone and shake some sense into her until she believes it.
That’s the first clue I’m losing my fucking mind. Either that or Dustin snuck something into the skunk I smoked earlier because I barely know this girl, yet this damned deal I made is getting into my fucking head already.
My hands ball into fists as I fight for something to say, but I come up short. Leaving this conversation while I’m ahead is probably the smartest move.
“I’d better go. Early game tomorrow.” I kick a rock by my feet, watching as it skitters across the parking lot, then add, “You can come if you want.”
“Can’t. Call me crazy, but I don’t think the other fans will be too happy if I’m puking my guts out on the sidelines.”
I frown. “What do you mean? Are you sick?”
