“What?”
The man has zero opinions about anything other than my swimming and my academics, denies me at every turn, but as soon as Roland’s name comes up, he has opinions.
“How about a nice quiet kid from the Latin Club?”
I bat my lashes at him. “What’s the problem with Roland? He’s my age and we’re friends now.”
“You don’t want to go with him.”
“You can have an opinion about it when you decide to admit how you feel.”
He goes back to looking at his phone idly, essentially telling me we’re done here.
I go back to my seat to huddle with Hunter.
“What was that all about?” she asks.
“Nothing. It was nothing. Business as usual,” I sigh.
24
Weston
I’m so damn proud of her. I knew she would bring home the title for us. Judging by her behavior on the bus ride home, she’s finally seeing the same amazing, fierce, brave woman I see.
25
Addie
Although a part of me would love nothing more than to drag out my independent study project until the end of the year as a convenient excuse to continue meeting with Coach Ford, I just don’t have it in me. I’ve exhausted myself waiting around for him.
My heart still longs for him. My soul pines for him, and my skin yearns for his touch.
I still inadvertently moisten my lips whenever he strolls by in the halls, subbing for one class or another. My panties get wet when he’s near and I smell his scent.
I still daydream, I still fantasize. But I’ve resigned myself to knowing that’s all there is, and that’s all there will ever be. If he wanted me, he would have allowed me to touch him. To get close to him. To open up to him.
All I’ve ever wanted was for him to see me, and now that I’m not swimming for him, he seems even less interested, if that were possible.
Until signing day.
“Honey, are you OK?”
Mom and I have ditched school this morning to shop for a dress for the signing ceremony. I’ve been offered an athletic scholarship to the nearby state university, and I’ve decided to take it. I could have accepted offers from more prestigious schools on both coasts, but I’m just not feeling as excited as I once was about going far away.
I give her my best smile. “I’m good. Just already feeling nostalgic for high school, I guess.”
She looks at me like I’ve just suggested walking a tightrope across Niagara Falls.
“You? Feeling nostalgic about high school?”
I shrug and hold up a purple dress.
“It’s a lot more…flouncy and flirty than what you usually wear, but I like it,” she says.
I chuckle and toss the dress over my forearm so I can keep rummaging through the racks. “Are you saying I’m not feminine?”
“That’s not even close to what I said. I like the dress. Would yo