Addicted

"The first one is my favorite." I glanced up at Allison and smiled.

"Valentine, I'm speaking to you." My mother gripped the back of my arm.

My friends started to give their recommendations to my sister as I turned to face my mom.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to stay focused on Allison like you asked me to." I kept my tone steady and soft, though I didn't want to.

"By talking about some heathen guy that you're helping out at school? You have more important things to focus on than becoming someone who just hands out random opportunity to charity cases. Understood?" Her brow pulled in tight as she studied me with open disapproval.

"Being nice is free, Mom. Tate's a good guy, and I was happy to help him out as a repayment for helping me first." I shrugged and pulled from her. "He's not open for discussion."

That was obviously the wrong thing to say. She spent the next twenty minutes berating me on my choices and lack of ambition. Allison was kind enough to pull my friends into another room a few minutes into the ass-chewing, but much to my horror, my father walked in at the end of it.

I stood there in stony silence and went to a happy place in my head where neither of them existed. It was the only way to get through any of it. Screaming at my mother would have just made matters worse, and knowing that her blood pressure was causing issues left me defenseless against her. She'd keel over in front of me, and though I hated her with every cell in my body, I loved her just as equally.

Too bad I was the only one that felt that way between the two of us. She didn't care for me then, and I wasn't sure she ever had.

"Do you hear me?" she screamed in my face as I glanced over to my dad.

"See you guys later. Sorry I showed up today." I turned on my heel, collected my friends, and got back in the car as my teary-eyed older sister waved from the front door.

None of us spoke a word back to campus, but then again, there really wasn't much to say.

Chapter 12

Tate

I should have called Val sometime during the week, but between dealing with my mother, the cops over Daniel, work, and school, I was beat. She was just a pretty girl who had learned a little about kindness from me. Nothing more. It was better to just let things go between us. Pushing it would only leave her in the awkward position of having to pretend like my poverty didn't matter when she came face to face with it. I didn't care what Jerry said. Rich people were still rich people.

After packing my swimsuit and a towel in my backpack, I drove to the campus with a sense of trepidation sitting heavy on me. Val might have sweet-talked some poor schmuck into giving me the chance to try out, but there was no way they were going to let me on the team. It didn't matter that I was better than most of them and equally gifted as the rest. I was from the poor side of town and my tats were a sign of rebellion that the rich kids didn't seemed to appreciate. Or at least the guys. Their girls would spend hours tracing them if given the chance.

I parked the bike under the canopy at the natatorium and walked in to the smell of chlorine and the sound of water lapping.

A large group of guys were running drills, and their coach glanced up at me as I walked in with my torn jeans, leather jacket, and shit-kickers. If he was judging me, I couldn't tell. His face was rather expressionless.

Another guy about my size moved from the group and extended his hand. "You must be Tate. I'm Martin, Val's friend."

"Nice to meet you." I shook his hand and glanced around the room. "There a locker room where I can change?"

"Yeah." He turned and pointed to the far side of the room. "Just over there, and that's Coach Dalmoth. He's strict as shit, but a good swim coach."

"Great, thanks." I walked toward the coach and extended my hand again, not quite sure what to expect. "Thanks for the chance to try out today."

He shook my hand and gave me a tight smile. "We'll see what you’ve got and go from there."

"Sounds good." I turned and ignored the stares and mumblings about my clothes, my hair, who the fuck I was. Guys were worse than girls at being judgmental.

After changing into my suit, I stopped by the mirror and ran my hand over the shadow of my six-pack. I needed to get back into the gym, but if I made the team, they would provide a routine of sorts, anyway.

I grabbed my towel from my bag and walked back into the larger room with my shoulders pulled back a little. I knew I was going to catch some shit over my tats, but it was what it was. They each had an assigned meaning, and I loved th

e way they looked and made me feel.

"Tate, over there." Martin waved me over with a worried look on his face. "Coach is going to let you try out and then we'll start practice. The guys aren't too thrilled you're here, but I'm sure you're perceptive enough to pick that up."

I rolled my shoulders and nodded. "Yep."

"Tate, what's your last name, son?" The coach motioned for me to move to the front of the group of guys that hovered around the edge of the pool. It was a good damn thing it was warm in the room, or I wouldn't have been much for sporting nothing more than my swim trunks.