Page 7 of Remember Us This Way

I can’t wait!

“Okay, byeeeeee,” Tarni drags out before promptly hanging up to take Cora’s call. And with that, I stare back in the mirror, knowing without a doubt that I am not even close to being ready to face this.

Tomorrow isn’t just going to be interesting; it’s going to be a personal tour right through the darkest pits of hell.

3

Noah

Well, this is going to be a shitshow.

Dropping the cigarette butt to the ground, I blow out a cloud of smoke as I stare up at East View High, home of the mighty Mambas football team. But if you ask me, there’s not a damn thing mighty about them. They’re mediocre at best, though with me, they might just have a shot of taking out the championship, and that’s not my ego talking. It’s fact. I’m the best high-school quarterback in the state. Most of my stats outrank those in the professional leagues, but it means nothing if I don’t have a team to play for.

If life was forgiving and I could choose which team I represented, the Mambas are far from anything I’d select. They don’t even reach the top twenty on the list, but unfortunately for me, they’re the only chance I have left.

After my latest fuck up, I don’t have many options left. It’s either make it with the Mambas and work my ass off to try and save what little chance I have of playing college football, or I could just walk away and probably end up behind bars within the next twelve months . . . maybe sooner. Who knows? I’ve been on a roll lately.

Decisions. Decisions.

Letting out a heavy breath, I stride up the stairs and push through the double doors before letting them fall shut behind me, the loud bang echoing up the hallway.

It’s time to face the music.

It’s time to face her.

The hallways of East View High are dead, barely a soul to be seen, but it’s still early. I’m not usually the type to show up so early, but with everything happening so fast, I haven’t had a chance to meet Coach Martin yet. I don’t even know if he’s aware I’m coming, but either way, I won’t be leaving his office until I get exactly what I want. Whatever means necessary.

My gaze sails from left to right as I get deeper into the school, trying to figure out where the fuck to go. Navigating new schools isn’t exactly new for me. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all.

I’ve spent the last three years being the new kid, but it never takes long to settle in and find my people. Besides, they generally find me. When you come fully loaded with a name and reputation like mine, high school becomes a fucking breeze.

Passing some kid with a fucking trombone, I lift my chin and watch as he scrambles to take off, knowing assholes like me generally live to make life hard for losers like him. “Aye,” I say, his wide gaze shifting to me, terror blasting through his stare as he takes me in. “Where’s the student office?”

“Uh . . . uhmmm. Down the hall. To the right,” he says. “Red door.”

I nod, and he takes off like some bitch just offered to let him motorboat her beneath the bleachers.

Wanting to get this over and done with, I continue down the hall, scanning the doors on the right until I come across the red door with the words Student Office above it. Bringing my hand up, I shove through the door, and as I lift my gaze to figure out where the fuck I need to go, a horrified gasp sails through the office—a gasp I would recognize anywhere.

No.

Zoey James stands in front of me, her elbows braced against the counter, facing the woman in the office. Those big green eyes I used to adore are locked on mine as though she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

And fuck, neither can I.

I feel like I’ve just been shot right through the chest.

Zoey fucking James. I knew I would see her today. It was inevitable. She’s been going to East View High since the beginning of freshman year, not that I’ve been keeping tabs on her, but I wasn’t prepared for this, not even close.

Her back stiffens, and I watch the subtle way she curls her hands into fists at her sides, trying to hide the fact they’re shaking. But there’s no hiding from me. I know her better than she knows herself. At least, I used to. That’s in the past now, right where it’s going to stay.

My heart pounds out of my chest as the world fades around us, so many things left unsaid but never forgotten. Zoey has been nothing but a figment of my imagination for three years, a constant reminder of the agony that lives in the darkest pits of my soul.

I walked away without a backward glance, not even a goodbye, and that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.

Zoey remains frozen on the spot, and I can almost read her thoughts. They’re so fucking loud, they’re practically screaming at me—demanding answers, demanding anything that will bring her just a hint of closure. But she’s not going to get it from me.

I’ve always been able to read her. Those bright green eyes give her away—and now is no different. Though, there’s no denying that those bright eyes somehow seem duller now.

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