Beeeeeep.
My heart sounds like a goddamned drum line. I’m waiting for a prompt, something that tells me I can erase and rerecord, add to my message, get more time. But nothing happens. Soon, there’s a dial tone. That’s it—I called her back. I don’t even remember what I said, and I hope like hell I didn’t sound like an asshole. I don’t think I sounded like an asshole. Returning call…worried…call me—no, I was okay. That message was okay.
The banging on the door saves me from my own head. It’s almost time for dinner with our parents, so I bet it’s Nate, and I bet he forgot his key.
“You’re running wayyyyy late, fucknut,” I say, pulling the door open and feeling it release from my hand as it swings fully into the opposite wall. Paige marches in, sliding past me with finesse and speed. She turns, her arms folded over her chest, her fancy purse pulled up high on her shoulder and stuffed under one arm.
“Mind shutting that?” she says, nodding to the door. She sounds pissed. What the fuck? I’m pretty sure when I left Cass, she was good—things were good. No, things were…great!
I shut the door and move closer to her, my eyebrows low and my eyes unable to move away from the shiny long fingernails she is tapping against her own arm. How is she making that noise on her skin? Those things sound like they’re rapping on a tabletop.
“You and me need to have a chat,” she says, popping one leg out a step so this balled-up energy she’s holding onto can seep out slowly through her tapping toe.
“Okay,” I say, literally biting my tongue to avoid saying something that will only make whatever the fuck is happening right now worse. “Can’t say I know what about, so…enlighten me?” Yeah, that probably wasn’t the right choice of words, but it’s better than the first few things that popped into my head.
“My sister,” she says, the nail tapping picking up speed against her arm.
“I’m pretty sure Cass is a big girl, and wouldn’t like whatever this is you think you’re doing,” I say, ready to kick her out of my damn room.
“Oh, I know she wouldn’t like it. And I know you’ll probably tell her I was here—even though you shouldn’t. But I don’t care,” she says.
“Allllll right,” I say, dragging the words out while I look at her for some clue where this is going.
“I don’t like you,” she says. Wo—wow! Paige has balls.
“I’m good with that. See ya later,” I say, my hand actually on the door handle now.
“Let me say my piece, and then I’ll leave. Just give me the respect of listening,” she says, so I drop my hand and turn to face her again.
“Kinda hard to respect someone whose opening line is ‘I don’t like you,’” I say, somehow finding myself with my arms folded just like hers. It irritates me, so I grab Nate’s ball glove that’s sitting out on his desk just to have something to hold onto.
Paige relaxes, though very little. She takes a seat on my desk chair, setting her purse on the floor and folding her hands in her lap. I suddenly feel like I’m in an interview—the part near the end, and it didn’t go well, and the interviewer is about to tell me I didn’t get the job.
“I don’t have to like you, Ty. My sister does. And she does. She likes you…a whole bunch,” she says, and I smile on instinct. She holds up a hand fast, though. Don’t get too comfortable, Ty. “My sister has a big heart. She loves easily. She’s also been through…she’s been through a lot. Soccer was everything to her, and she tells me you’ve been training her. You have to stop.”
“No way,” I say. Not a chance. I know Cass wants this. And I know what it’s like to feel that drive, to accomplish something you aren’t supposed to. I won’t back out on her on this.
“I figured you’d say that,” Paige says, her voice getting softer, but still with an edge to it. She reaches down and pulls her purse in her lap, preparing to stand. “This is a bad idea. If she fails…she won’t recover. She’ll be devastated.”
“She won’t fail,” I say, my words sure and fast.
Paige pauses to take them in, waiting for me to hedge my statement. I keep my lips pursed and hold her stare, and finally she sighs.
“Maybe not. But there’s a chance. Whether you believe there is or not, there’s always a chance things won’t work out. And if she fails—” she says, and I interrupt.
“Which she won’t,” I say, and this only brings back Paige’s fire. Fuck it—she already doesn’t like me.