Page 79 of Sweet Girl
Chapter Twenty-six
Van
It’s noon and I still haven’t heard from Kylah.
Shit. If I lost her because of Lyndsay’s unwelcome visit, I will never forgive my ex.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Tossed and turned all night, checking my phone every five minutes in the event she called or texted me back. There was only silence. And it made me fucking insane.
I had to stop myself from going nuts with the apology texts. I could’ve continued, but felt like a crazy stalker and had to put a cap on my lame-ass appeals for reconciliation and forgiveness. When she hadn’t responded within thirty minutes, I gave up and went to bed. There was no use in continuing to look like a loser. It’s kind of like when you get called for a foul out on the court. You state your case to the referee, trying to get him to see your side, and when they make their decision, you accept it and move on.
That’s what I’ll have to do if she doesn’t forgive me.
I woke up around ten, antsy and fidgety. Full of piss and vinegar. I’ve been moping around for the last hour or so and finally decided I had to do something. So I get on my workout clothes and run to the student athletic building on campus. Might as well get in some cardio and strength training today.
As I enter the gym, a number of people greet me with high-fives and hellos. I make my way back to the weight room where I see a few of my teammates hanging out. Carver’s at the leg press, Scott and Lance at the bench press, and Christian is doing some deadlifts. They all shout out my name as I enter the little alcove in the back.
Carver gives me an evil eye as I walk toward him.
“Didn’t I tell you not to hurt her, dude? Now I’m required to kick your virginity-stealing ass.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “How’d you know about that?”
Carver scoffs. “I know all, bruh. I heard Cade talking last night to Ainsley, in between rounds of fucking. Jesus, that girl is a screamer.”
I blush, which is stupid. But I can’t help it. It feels wrong to know about Cade’s girl in that intimate manner.
“How’d you know about Kylah’s virginity?”
“She told me.” He says nonchalantly, puffing out his chest with a grunt through a set of leg curls, the sweat dripping down his chest.
I glare at him and he continues. “The night you two went to the movies. She asked for sex advice.”
I choke out a cough. Wasn’t expecting that.
“And exactly what advice did you give her?” I pick up a couple of hand weights and begin some bicep curls, curious as to their conversation about sex.
“Well, initially I told her that her best bet was just to fuck me because she wouldn’t get a better experience anywhere else.”
When I glare at him, Carver laughs, his shoulders shaking ruefully. “Eh, calm down bro. You know you’re the one she wanted and I don’t do virgins. Too bad you couldn’t keep from running back to your ex long enough to be the guy Ky-Ky needed.”
I throw down the weights and have him by the throat in under a second. The ruckus has all heads turning to see what’s up.
“That’s not how it went down, Edwards. Don’t go talking about shit you know nothing about again.”
Sometimes Carver pisses me off with his trash-talking, loud-mouth ways. Normally I let the things that come out of his mouth slide, but not today. Not in my current pissy mood.
Christian is suddenly at my side, gripping my arm that I let fall from Carver’s neck.
“Fuck this shit. I’m outta here.” I shoulder past Christian and head back outside, breaking into a jog to my dorm.
When I arrive at my building, the air conditioning hits my skin, instantly cooling my sweat-soaked flesh. I sprint up the steps, turn the corner, and then the wind is knocked out of me.
There sitting at my door is Kylah, knees bent so her chin rests on top, head bent as she plays with her phone. My sudden intake of breath catches her attention as her eyes flit to see me standing here at her side.
“Ky.” Her name on my tongue sounds like home.
My hand darts out to help her up, as she pushes to her feet, but continues to stare down at the floor. It’s like we’re both teenagers at our first dance, uncertain of where to put our hands and our feet, fearful of tripping each other with our awkwardness.
