Campus Player
“I’m sorry?” It’s more of a question at this point. From one day to the next, I’m never sure if these two are a couple or not. It’s exhausting, and it’s not even my relationship. I’m a spectator—or maybe hostage would be a more accurate term—sitting on the sidelines, trying not to be hit by friendly fire.
My bestie rolls her eyes before throwing herself onto the couch in our living room. “I think we’re really over this time.”
Sure...whatever you say, crazy.
Sydney says this every time they have a fight. After a few days of separation, they somehow find their way back to one another. Kind of like a guard and an escaped prisoner with a tracking device. It’s maddening. They can’t be together, and yet, they can’t be apart. I have no idea what they’ll do, and I’ve stopped doling out unsolicited advice that goes unheeded.
I’ve come to the disturbing conclusion that the two of them are gluttons for punishment.
How else do you explain the constant drama?
“What happened this time?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can rein it in again. My backpack is set on the table before I plop down on the chair and settle in across from her. We’ve got roughly thirty minutes before practice. Their fight probably lasted ten minutes tops, but the dissection of it will take four times that long.
Sydney wrinkles her nose as she squints at the ceiling. “You know what? I don’t even remember what started it.”
Not surprising.
“I just know he doesn’t get me,” she continues.
“Then maybe this breakup is for the best,” I say gently, hoping the remainder of senior year doesn’t follow the same pattern that has already been set. If so, I might end up moving home, and I really don’t want to do that. As much as I love my dad, we need our own space.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Sydney rolls onto her belly and rests her chin on clasped hands before waggling her brows at me. “So...dinner with daddy tonight, huh?”
“Ewww!” I scrunch my face at her wordage. “That’s gross. Rephrase, please.”
“What’s wrong?” She grins as her shoulders shake with unconcealed mirth. “You didn’t like that?”
“God, no. In fact, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.” I’m not kidding either. Every once in a while, Sydney likes to torment me by talking about how good looking my father is. When that happens, I go into self-protective mode and tune out the conversation. I suspect she does it more to rile me up than anything else. At least, I hope that’s the reason.
“I can’t believe you’re bringing Justin to dinner. It hasn’t even been that long. I can’t remember the last guy you brought home to meet Coach.” She eyes me speculatively. “You must really like him.”
I bite my lower lip and shake my head.
Her brows skyrocket. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t understand.” She pauses for a beat. “Why did you invite him to dinner if you’re not into the guy?”
It’s an excellent question. One I don’t have an answer for. I give her the best response I’ve got. Even if it doesn’t make sense. “In the moment, it felt right. But now? Not so much.”
“Well, that’ll be uncomfortable. I can just imagine it—Coach, Rowan, Justin, and you. All sitting around the dinner table getting to know one another.”
Ugh. She’s right.
“That sounds horrific.” I slump on the chair, dreading the evening ahead before perking up enough to ask, “Hey! Want to come and help run interference? You’ll get a hot meal out of it.”
“Hell, no. I’ve had your dad’s cooking enough times to know that it’s not worth the price of admission,” she says with a laugh. “Sorry, you’re on your own with that one.”
“Bitch,” I mutter.
Her shoulders shake with undisguised amusement as she steers us back to the original topic. “What happened to change your mind about Justin? I thought everything was going well.”
I shrug, unwilling to tell her that the one guy who makes my heart beat into overdrive isn’t necessarily the one I’m going out with. There is nothing about Justin that makes me want to know him on a deeper level. And that’s a problem.
“Oh, come on, there must be something.”
My gaze shifts to the picture window that overlooks the tree-filled courtyard. “I thought it might take some time to feel a spark, but so far, it hasn’t happened, and after a month, I’ve lost hope that it will.”
“You know better than that. Sparks are instantaneous. They’re either there or they aren’t.” Still sprawled on her belly, Sydney swings her bare legs back and forth.
Reluctantly, I acknowledge she’s spot-on with her assessment. Even the memory of Rowan throwing his arm around my shoulders and hauling me close is enough to make my pulse skitter out of control. Not wanting to dwell on it, I shove those thoughts away before they can infect my brain like a deadly virus. I’ve got enough to deal with tonight. The last thing I need is to invite more complications.