Page 3 of For Crosby

“Um, yeah. He’s our school’s star wide receiver. Probably going pro after this season. How don’t you know that?”

“I don’t follow football. And I just got here.”

“It’s November.”

“I transferred.”

“Mid-semester?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you ask a lot of questions?”

“Not every night I find a guy tied to a tree who tells me he transferred mid-semester.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Not currently going anywhere.”

He grumbled under his breath before relenting. “I didn’t know I’d be taking the captain’s position. You’d think they’d be kissing my fucking skates knowing I’m gonna win them a championship.”

“Ever heard the saying there’s no I in team?”

“Sweetheart, I am the team.”

“Wow,” I said, picking away at another one of the knots. “Conceited much?”

“Just speaking the truth.”

“I wonder what they’ve got planned next.” I hoped it was something good to teach this guy some humility.

He said nothing.

I somehow slipped a second knot free. “At least they gave you time to escape before the majority of campus woke up.”

“Yeah. I’ll be sure to thank them. What time is it?”

“Nearing four.”

He huffed. “Think you could stop talking and work faster?”

Stop talking? Work faster? Who did he think he was? My fingers picked away at the next knot. It wasn’t moving. No matter what I did, it was stuck. I moved to another. It was just as tight. I dug my fingernails in, but it was no use.

“Seriously? What’s taking so damn long?” he grumbled as I fumbled away at the unwavering knots.

His tone and impatience with me caused my fingers to shake, rendering it impossible to untie another knot even if I wanted to.

“I’m talking to you,” he said.

“Oh, I’m allowed to talk now?”

“Listen, I’m not looking to make friends. I need the damn knots untied.”

I dropped the knot I’d been working on and rounded the tree. Stepping in front of him, I crossed my arms and met his angry eyes. “We, my friend, are at an impasse.”

His eyes jumped between me and the ropes still holding him to the tree. “What the fuck?”

“I’ve been trying to help you. But it’s four o’clock in the freaking morning. My fingertips are raw. And I’m doing the best I can. But what do I get?” I threw my arms into the air. “What do I always get? A whole lot of nothing. So, if you’ll excuse me, this is my cue to exit. Good luck getting untied, but I’m starting to think you deserved it.” I turned and walked away to the bellowing roar of the stranger yelling bitch into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

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