Page 4 of Falling

Xavier’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? Is that why you were with Hacks? Are they kicking you out?”

“Almost,” I say, winking. He doesn’t buy my bullshit and stares me down, waiting for a real answer. “She and coach decided that I can’t play until I’m doing better in my classes and when I’ve got a better head on my shoulders.”

“Shit. That sucks,” Evan says, dipping a cracker into his weird cheese. Xavier and I look at it, and our eyes connect. I bite on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“The good news is you’re taking over my captaincy,” I say to Xavier, and his eyes go comically wide. He’s been my co-captain since last year, and he’s one of the best players that this team has. If I’m going to be out this season, I trust him to carry us to victory.

“Still sucks that you’re being benched,” Xavier says, shaking his head.

I just shrug. “I’ve been slacking for a while now; it’s about time they noticed.”

He hums in response, folding his arms against his chest. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Ben’s party tonight, but if you’re bummed out, we can just chill here.” He lowers his voice as he mumbles, “Which is kinda what we’ve been doing all summer.”

I think about it for a minute.

I could go and enjoy myself and stop overthinking or sit at home and wallow in my own pity and think abouthim.

I know which one will be more fun.

3

MILES

PRETTY GIRL, DUMB BOY

I scanthe house Xavier and I just walked into, and I’m bored and satisfied all at the same time.

I’ve been wasting away my nights, drinking cheap beer at parties like these until I can’t see straight. There’s something strangely comforting about intoxicated and happy strangers. I’ll get caught up in conversations I don’t want to have, and it always settles me a little. It’s like a touch of reality in the empty nothingness that has taken over my brain. It makes this whole “moving on” thing feel a little less daunting.

Xavier peels to meet one of his friends, and I take the beers I brought into the kitchen, grabbing myself a cold one out of the fridge. We’ve not even been here for ten minutes, and the music is already getting to me, thrashing hard against my skull as I take a gulp of my beer.

The liquid goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough over the skin. I gasp and sputter, trying to breathe normally. Maybe this is some sign from the gods that I should stop this pity party I’ve been throwing myself and get my act together.

A soft hand reaches my back, moving in a slow, awkward circle. My entire body tenses at the contact, and I try to pullaway, still trying to catch my breath. Only I would be able to embarrass myself like this today.

“Take it easy, big guy,” someone says from behind me, and whoever it is is trying really hard not to laugh just from the sound of their voice.

I turn around, almost stumbling when I see the girl in front of me.

She’s got deep-green eyes, the kind that lure you in,, and thick lashes that are blinking up at me, and a gleam in her eyes that shows the humor I thought was there just from the sound of her voice. Her hair isn’t just blonde, it looks golden, despite the shitty lighting of this house.

I’ve been floating outside my own body, watching myself from afar for so long that I can’t even pinpoint where I know her from. When I look back down to her, her eyes latching onto mine, I realize it.

I take my time to put the pieces together, shaking my head a little to clear my thoughts. She’s Hackerly’s daughter. She must be. The resemblance between her and the girl I saw in the photos is uncanny. The same eyes that followed me around that room are staring up at me now, and I should probably say something.

I blink myself back to reality, and when I do, she’s closer, her arm by my shoulder.

Wait.

What?

“Sorry. I’m just looking for some water.” She lets out a nervous chuckle, snapping me out of my trance, and I move out of the way, clearing her access to the fridge. Jesus Christ. I haven’t been that caught up in justlookingat someone in months. She reaches for a bottle, and I finally think of something to say.

“You’re the AD’s daughter, right?” I ask, closing my eyes before opening them again.

As the athletic director at NU, no one has really known whatto call Miss Hackerly, and if we’re not calling her AD, she’s usually referred to as “Hacks.” She’s a stick-in-the-mud, but she’s kept the sports department afloat for years.

The girl freezes at my question before pushing a strand of hair out of her face, a tight smile on her lips. “Yeah, I am,” she says. I know I’m the last person she wants to speak to given her expression, but that only makes me want to talk to her more. I’m holding out my hand before I can even think about it. She glances at my outstretched hand, narrowing her eyes. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

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