Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

I turn, confused. “What sucks?”

“You lost... your life. I mean, you had to like playing football, right? You probably loved it. And after you got suspended, you must not have been able to go back. The news didn’t say anything about that—I didn’t Google much, because I wanted to ask you instead of prying on the internet—but I know that when something is a huge part of your life and you have to give it up, it always sucks. That is, if you loved it.”

My throat closes off, my body’s own acknowledgement that what she said is true—on so many levels. I swallow and nod. I bite my cheek as I lengthen my strides.

“Did you play a long time?” she asks warmly. “I wanted to read profiles about you, but like I said, I didn’t want to snoop.”

“Except right now?” I huff a laugh—and am surprised. That I’m able to. After last night...

“Except right now.” She smiles. “You’re right here in the flesh. The legendary Kellan Drake-Walsh-Charitable Kingpin-SGA President. I can’t resist a few questions. Maybe an autograph.” She tugs on her t-shirt. “You know,” she smiles, “the Sharpie-on-cleavage.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “Bring me the Sharpie.”

“I just might.”

I push my body from a jog into a run. Her gaze moves with me. “Thank you for being honest with me. I know you didn’t have to tell me, but I like to know where you came from.”

I snort. If there’s anything I’m not, it’s honest.

“No biggie,” I say, as I stretch my legs into a more punishing pace.

“You know... I won’t tell. I swear. No one here knows that you played football, do they?”

“Nope.” Our soccer team sucks too much to get me any exposure. Which has been a good thing. I’d have never played if that wasn’t true. Don’t need any sports press sniffing around.

“Well I won’t tell a soul. Not even my best friends. Maybe just Truman.”

I jerk my head in a nod.

Now that she’s standing silently off to my side, and not distracting me with her questions and her pretty voice, the pain inside my chest flares to life again.

I run faster.

Harder.

“My first class is ten. When’s yours today?” she asks.

“Eleven.”

“Okay. Well I guess I’ll drive myself then.”

“Don’t. I’ll take you.”

She looks surprised. “You would have some time to waste.”

I shake my head. “I have to go to the dentist at 10:30, so it works.”

“Yuck. I hate the dentist. Do you have a cavity?”

I smirk at her. “What do you think?”

“I think your teeth look pretty perfect. Is it just a cleaning?” she asks.

“Cleaning.” I nod. “Now get out of here.”

“I want to work out too,” she pouts.

“Later.”