She gasped. “No! Of course not! I’m just trying to help.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t want to argue. Gus was closing in and I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of having an audience.
“Look, I don’t care if Anna hangs out with Gus. That’s up to her. I don’t mind if you want to add a Bi Pride flag…in fact, please do. But I don’t want Drew here. Period. End of story. I guess I wasn’t clear enough about that. My bad. I’m here to play volleyball, not to get mind-fucked.”
Sophie opened her mouth then closed it when Gus approached a moment later. He flashed a wide smirky smile at me and held his hand up for a fist bump.
“What’s up? You ready to kick ass and take names?”
I ignored his outstretched fist and tossed him the ball. “Sure, one thing…cool it with the daredevil dives, and just get the fucking ball over the net. You cost us momentum every time you pull that shit. I don’t know about you, but I’m here to win.”
And somehow I’d figure out how to win Braden back too.
Braden
Loneliness flooded through me when I woke up in my childhood bedroom Thursday morning. I glanced around the familiar space. It was so damn neat. My mom didn’t like the lived-in aesthetic that I’d become used to over the past few months. Every book on the shelves across from my bed was stacked and organized alphabetically. There were no holes in the walls or tape marks from ancient concert posters. Nothing was out of place.
My desk sat under the large picture window overlooking the pool in the backyard. I remembered telling my mom once that it was too bad the pool wasn’t a little closer to the house, because it would have been fun to jump from the roof into the deep end. She wasn’t amused. I received a daily warning that lasted until I was eighteen that jumping from high distances was bad for my bones and her health.
I sat up slowly and rested my head on one of the twenty pillows my mom stacked on my queen-sized bed. I didn’t move for a few minutes. I felt too raw and broken. I couldn’t think straight. The moment I’d spotted Drew at Elliot’s side, I knew it was that stupid date night all over again. Just like then, I couldn’t be angry with Sophie. She didn’t know Elliot was mine. And he wasn’t mine. He was temporary. My real life was in LA with grad school and my new team.
My summer was over, whether or not I was ready for it to end.
But he said he loved me. So maybe…
Knock, knock.
“Braden, are you here?” The door swung open and my mother rushed to my bedside. “Honey, you scared me! I saw your car out front and I jumped to twenty terrible conclusions in ten seconds flat. Are you okay?”
I mumbled sleepily, then glanced at my cell. Eight a.m.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “I have practice today.”
“I thought that was in the afternoon. Never mind. I’m happy you’re here. What can I make you for breakfast? Eggs, oatmeal…or healthy flaxseed pancakes? You might enjoy those. I can add berries and—”
“Mom, I’m not hungry. Maybe later.”
“You’re tired. I’ll let you sleep. Although you don’t want to sleep too late and—”
“Mom. Please.”
She gave me one of those appraising “mom” stares. The kind that made me think she might be able to read my thoughts. Then again, she’d faint on the spot if she had any idea what was wrong with me. She set her hand flat on my forehead and frowned.
“Do you feel okay?”
“No,” I replied unthinking.
I intended to brush off her query with my standard, “Everything’s fine” BS answer, but the worry in her eyes stopped me. Knowing her, she’d probably been awake for hours, had gone to yoga, and was mentally preparing herself for a shift to volunteer at the Catholic charity guild or whatever else filled her days. It was daunting to know that she’d put her entire world on pause if she thought I was unwell. I wonder what she’d do if she knew the real problem.
“What is it? What hurts? Is it your stomach or your knees or—"
“It’s my heart.”
“Oh.”
“It’s broken, Mama.”
Her shoulders sagged heavily as she sighed and sat beside me. “Who is she?”
“Not she. He.”
“Oh.” She drew the one word out for a few syllables. “Then it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I don’t know about that. I think he’s special. I’m the problem.”
“You are not a problem,” she said fiercely. “You are good and strong and—”
“Mom, I’m a little crazy.”
“We’re all crazy, Braden.”
“Why are you staring at me?” I asked after a minute of close examination.
“No reason. Food will cure you.” She nodded to herself before moving to the window. She opened the blinds abruptly, sending sunlight streaming into the room. “Up you go. No sense in wasting time worrying about what was never meant to be. I’ll make those pancakes now. I have fresh strawberries and—”