The Goal
Page 26
Slowly, I turn back to Sabrina. My stomach twists with concern. And there’s a pang of fear too, because I hate the idea that the asshole sleeps only two doors down from her.
Before I can speak, she tucks her hair behind both ears and says, “I’m really tired. You should probably go now.”
My gaze darts to the hallway.
“He won’t bother me,” she whispers, as if reading my mind. “I lock my door at night.”
I’m not sure a locked door will keep that fuckhead out. Ray isn’t as tall or bulky as I am, but he’s not puny, either. Doughy, yes, but not puny…
“I’ll be fine,” she insists, and the look on her face tells me she’s as eager for me to go as I am to stay.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” I finally ask.
She nods.
“Okay. I…guess I’ll go then.” I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my Uber app. Then I take a needlessly long time with it, hoping that she’ll change her mind.
She doesn’t. She waits silently while I track down a car, then walks me to the kitchen, holds the door open for me, and murmurs a soft, “Good night.”
She doesn’t kiss me goodbye.
10
Sabrina
I’m not sure if u’ve blocked me again. On the off chance u haven’t, ur fucking spectacular in bed. Ur hot body almost eclipses that sexy brain of urs. Almost. I want to see u again. In bed, out of it. Whatever.
I like to pretend that I’m impervious to ordinary things like feelings. That my focus is so precise and laser-like, nothing can push me off the path I set for myself back in sixth grade. But as I stare across the quad at some girl rubbing up against Tucker, thoughts of Harvard and perfect grades and sticking it to all the haters are pushed aside by a rush of green jealousy.
I want to march over there, whip out my phone, and shove a screenshot of his sext in front of her face. See, he’s mine, I’d snarl and then I’d drag him away. Or maybe I’d throw him down and ride him in front of the entire Briar campus.
“B, you’re looking like you don’t know if you want to kill Amber Pivalis or fuck Tucker. Either one is illegal on school grounds.” Hope laughs in my ear.
Amber? Her name is going in my burn book.
“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, shifting my books higher in my arms. I’m not sure if I’m talking to myself or Hope at this point. Both of us, maybe.
“How are we defining ‘this’? Your sudden obsession with Tucker or your maddening refusal to actually allow yourself to enjoy life?”
“If your eyebrow goes up any higher on your forehead, it will officially be part of your hairline,” is my non-answer.
“Being around you causes these weird tics.” Hope waggles both eyebrows.
“Do you make these faces in bed with D’Andre? Is it some strange fetish of his?”
“You know what D’Andre’s fetish is and it’s not my eyebrows.”
“Oh God. Right. I’m sorry I brought it up.” D’Andre’s ass preference has not gone unnoticed by any of Hope’s friends, but it’s not something I like to dwell on, not even as a distraction from Amber.
Miss Thang is currently walking her fingers up Tucker’s arm while he listens intently to every stupid thing that comes out of her stupid mouth. I mean, she could be telling him about Nietzsche’s theories of nihilism, but it’d still be stupid because Tucker’s enraptured.
“Are we going to stand here all day and watch the Amber/Tucker show, or are we going to eat?”
Their names don’t even sound right together. Their celebrity nickname would be Tamber or Aucker, and both options are dumb.
Mine and Tucker’s celebrity name would be Sucker, which could either refer to sex or to the way I feel right now—like a sucker. Because why the hell is he flirting with some other chick after sending me that sext?
“Eat,” I grumble, but my legs are propelling me west, which is not the direction of the dining hall.
“You know Carver’s to our left, right?” Hope sounds like she’s trying not to bust a gut.
I barrel to a halt, but it’s too late. Tucker’s head lifts and he spots me. I can feel the warmth of his smile from here.
Oh shit, this was a mistake. Three nights ago was a mistake. A week ago was a mistake. Stomping across the quad like a jealous girlfriend is definitely a mistake.
I grab Hope’s arm and walk very quickly in the opposite direction. “I’m starved. Let’s go eat.”
“You realize that running is something I only do on the treadmill while wearing my sneaks and running gear, correct?” She trots next to me, trying to keep up on feet that are clad in expensive suede boots with a heel as tall as my hand.
I walk even faster. “Can’t hear you. Embarrassment is short-circuiting my nervous system.”
“If embarrassment is causing your malfunction now, I’d love to know what it was that caused you to run across the quad.”
As if she doesn’t know. Before I can respond, though, Tucker shows up on my right.
“Where’s the fire?” he drawls.
Hope grinds to a halt. “Thank God you caught up with us.” She runs a hand across her forehead in an exaggerated motion. “I’m not cut out for outdoor exertions.”
“Stow it, Hopeless,” I hiss out of the side of my mouth.
She grins unrepentantly. “I’m going inside to save us a seat. When you’re done, come find me.” She reaches past me to give Tucker’s biceps a squeeze. “You’re welcome to join us, handsome.”
Someone growls. I hope everyone thinks it’s my stomach, but by Hope’s broad grin and Tucker’s smirk, I know I’m busted. At least Tucker has the decency to wait until Hope’s out of earshot before he opens his mouth.
“Ignoring my texts again?”
“It was one text, and it’s only been three days.” I stare stubbornly ahead and not into his gorgeous face or his deep brown eyes.
“But who’s counting, right?”
I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling. It’s in his every word.
We stand there for a moment, neither of us speaking. I suppose he’s looking at me while I’m looking at everything but him. Finally, I find my ovaries and turn to face him.
The smile has worn off. Now he sports a slightly quizzical frown, as if he’s decided I’m a puzzle that he’s trying to solve. A dozen questions whirl around in my head, and I take a moment to sort through them until I arrive at the one that bothers me the most—the horrible scene with Ray before Tucker left my house on Friday night.
Before I can speak, she tucks her hair behind both ears and says, “I’m really tired. You should probably go now.”
My gaze darts to the hallway.
“He won’t bother me,” she whispers, as if reading my mind. “I lock my door at night.”
I’m not sure a locked door will keep that fuckhead out. Ray isn’t as tall or bulky as I am, but he’s not puny, either. Doughy, yes, but not puny…
“I’ll be fine,” she insists, and the look on her face tells me she’s as eager for me to go as I am to stay.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” I finally ask.
She nods.
“Okay. I…guess I’ll go then.” I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my Uber app. Then I take a needlessly long time with it, hoping that she’ll change her mind.
She doesn’t. She waits silently while I track down a car, then walks me to the kitchen, holds the door open for me, and murmurs a soft, “Good night.”
She doesn’t kiss me goodbye.
10
Sabrina
I’m not sure if u’ve blocked me again. On the off chance u haven’t, ur fucking spectacular in bed. Ur hot body almost eclipses that sexy brain of urs. Almost. I want to see u again. In bed, out of it. Whatever.
I like to pretend that I’m impervious to ordinary things like feelings. That my focus is so precise and laser-like, nothing can push me off the path I set for myself back in sixth grade. But as I stare across the quad at some girl rubbing up against Tucker, thoughts of Harvard and perfect grades and sticking it to all the haters are pushed aside by a rush of green jealousy.
I want to march over there, whip out my phone, and shove a screenshot of his sext in front of her face. See, he’s mine, I’d snarl and then I’d drag him away. Or maybe I’d throw him down and ride him in front of the entire Briar campus.
“B, you’re looking like you don’t know if you want to kill Amber Pivalis or fuck Tucker. Either one is illegal on school grounds.” Hope laughs in my ear.
Amber? Her name is going in my burn book.
“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, shifting my books higher in my arms. I’m not sure if I’m talking to myself or Hope at this point. Both of us, maybe.
“How are we defining ‘this’? Your sudden obsession with Tucker or your maddening refusal to actually allow yourself to enjoy life?”
“If your eyebrow goes up any higher on your forehead, it will officially be part of your hairline,” is my non-answer.
“Being around you causes these weird tics.” Hope waggles both eyebrows.
“Do you make these faces in bed with D’Andre? Is it some strange fetish of his?”
“You know what D’Andre’s fetish is and it’s not my eyebrows.”
“Oh God. Right. I’m sorry I brought it up.” D’Andre’s ass preference has not gone unnoticed by any of Hope’s friends, but it’s not something I like to dwell on, not even as a distraction from Amber.
Miss Thang is currently walking her fingers up Tucker’s arm while he listens intently to every stupid thing that comes out of her stupid mouth. I mean, she could be telling him about Nietzsche’s theories of nihilism, but it’d still be stupid because Tucker’s enraptured.
“Are we going to stand here all day and watch the Amber/Tucker show, or are we going to eat?”
Their names don’t even sound right together. Their celebrity nickname would be Tamber or Aucker, and both options are dumb.
Mine and Tucker’s celebrity name would be Sucker, which could either refer to sex or to the way I feel right now—like a sucker. Because why the hell is he flirting with some other chick after sending me that sext?
“Eat,” I grumble, but my legs are propelling me west, which is not the direction of the dining hall.
“You know Carver’s to our left, right?” Hope sounds like she’s trying not to bust a gut.
I barrel to a halt, but it’s too late. Tucker’s head lifts and he spots me. I can feel the warmth of his smile from here.
Oh shit, this was a mistake. Three nights ago was a mistake. A week ago was a mistake. Stomping across the quad like a jealous girlfriend is definitely a mistake.
I grab Hope’s arm and walk very quickly in the opposite direction. “I’m starved. Let’s go eat.”
“You realize that running is something I only do on the treadmill while wearing my sneaks and running gear, correct?” She trots next to me, trying to keep up on feet that are clad in expensive suede boots with a heel as tall as my hand.
I walk even faster. “Can’t hear you. Embarrassment is short-circuiting my nervous system.”
“If embarrassment is causing your malfunction now, I’d love to know what it was that caused you to run across the quad.”
As if she doesn’t know. Before I can respond, though, Tucker shows up on my right.
“Where’s the fire?” he drawls.
Hope grinds to a halt. “Thank God you caught up with us.” She runs a hand across her forehead in an exaggerated motion. “I’m not cut out for outdoor exertions.”
“Stow it, Hopeless,” I hiss out of the side of my mouth.
She grins unrepentantly. “I’m going inside to save us a seat. When you’re done, come find me.” She reaches past me to give Tucker’s biceps a squeeze. “You’re welcome to join us, handsome.”
Someone growls. I hope everyone thinks it’s my stomach, but by Hope’s broad grin and Tucker’s smirk, I know I’m busted. At least Tucker has the decency to wait until Hope’s out of earshot before he opens his mouth.
“Ignoring my texts again?”
“It was one text, and it’s only been three days.” I stare stubbornly ahead and not into his gorgeous face or his deep brown eyes.
“But who’s counting, right?”
I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling. It’s in his every word.
We stand there for a moment, neither of us speaking. I suppose he’s looking at me while I’m looking at everything but him. Finally, I find my ovaries and turn to face him.
The smile has worn off. Now he sports a slightly quizzical frown, as if he’s decided I’m a puzzle that he’s trying to solve. A dozen questions whirl around in my head, and I take a moment to sort through them until I arrive at the one that bothers me the most—the horrible scene with Ray before Tucker left my house on Friday night.
