Page 56 of All Your Pucking Secrets

Someone slaps my shoulder.

“Come on, Kinsey. Move it.” It’s Matthews. He yanks me along beside him, heading for the locker room.

“Let go, you dick,” I growl, jerking my shoulder free of his grip.

He just laughs. “God, you’re so uptight. Who was that guy?”

I debate staying quiet, but the whole damn team knows I’m hung up on Echo, so there’s no reason to hide it. “One of Echo’s friends.”

He turns toward me, his eyebrows inching toward his hairline. “Just a friend?”

“Yes.”

“So, how’s that going?” He pushes open the locker room door and a cacophony of voices greets us. “Can we expect to see her wearing your number in the stands during our next game?”

I grimace. “It might be a while before that happens.”

If ever.

Matthews shakes his head. “And here I thought you’re the kind of guy who has game with the ladies.”

“There’s only one lady I want.”

“We know,” Ruiz cries, obviously eavesdropping. “You’re whipped, man. But you’ve gotta keep us updated. We need details.”

A grin steals over my face. “You’re all idiots.”

They drop the topic after that, and we all get our gear on and head out for practice. It’s a brutal one. Coach is in a bad mood, and he works us hard. But despite my teammates’ bitching, I don’t have any complaints. I’m too busy plotting what I’m going to say to Soraya when I call her.

As soon as practice ends, I shower and leave the stadium. I sit in my Audi in the parking lot and find my sister’s number.

“Hey,” I say when she answers.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

I frown. “Fine. Why?”

“You don’t usually call for no reason. Especially not when we live so near to each other that you could just drop by.” I can practically hear the shrug in her voice.

“Sorry for worrying you. I just had an idea that I’m hoping you’ll help me with.”

“Oh?” She sounds interested but not upset, which is a relief. “What?”

“I need a favor.”

15

ECHO

As I jot down the article’s details in the notebook I keep for my social psychology class, I hear someone speak behind me.

“Excuse me?”

I ignore the voice, certain the person isn’t addressing me. It’s quiet in Full of Beans this afternoon, so it’s easy for me to pick up on pieces of other people’s conversations. I reach for my skinny caramel mocha and my lips curve down when I realize the mug is empty. I’m on a tight budget, so I’d better not have another.

“Excuse me,” the voice repeats, and this time, there’s a tap on my shoulder.

I jolt, my heart racing as I spin to face them. “Don’t do that,” I squeak. “You scared me.”

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