Page 34 of The Boy I Hate

“Does itstillhurt?”

He shook his head, “Nah. Notreally.”

She pulled her leg up to the bed and began playing with the thread again. “How did it happen?” She was surprised she wanted to know so badly. Surprised that after all these years, she’d healed enoughtocare.

“Let’s see…” He looked up to the ceiling, as if thinking about the memory. “It was the end of fall semester my junior year. We were on the road in Colorado and it was raining. I remember calling the play, lining up on the field, calling for the snap of the ball, and that’s about it. The next thing I remember was waking up in the dark hospital room. My arm was in some kind of traction device, and I had tubes coming out ofeverywhere.”

He glanced over at her and shrugged. “That was the last time I played for Texas U. I lost my scholarship, had tostartover.”

Her brow furrowed, and she glanced down to his shoulder again, but now her chest was tight, and she had to clear her throat to hold back tears. “How did you manage? Having something you loved ripped away from youlikethat?”

He met her eyes, almost as though the question shocked him. “It was easier for me than it was for my dad, let’s put itthatway.”

She closed her eyes briefly, because his answer hit way too close to home. Tristan was the pride and joy of his father… just as she was for her parents, being the only child. Personal failures felt much less personal, and so much heavier because of letting them down. She swallowed back emotion butnodded.

They were both quite a good while, before he glanced down at her iPod that lay in the middle of the bed. He hesitated for only a moment before picking it up and turning toward her. “What are youlisteningto?”

It was the first time he’d shown any interest in her books, and she pulled in a deep sigh before answering. “Nothing you’d beinterestedin.”

“Tryme.”

She plucked the iPod from his hand and placed it on the nightstand. “The PrincessBride.”

A grin teased at his lips. “Afairytale.”

“And what’s wrongwiththat?”

“Nothing, I like fairytales.”

She grinned. “Oh yeah, what’s yourfavorite?”

He leaned back on his elbows and looked up the the ceiling. “Hmmm…I would have to say, Beauty and theBeast.”

“Really?” She bit her lower lip and wrinkled her nose withdisbelief.

“Yeah, it’srelatable.”

“Why, because you’re thebeauty?”

He frowned, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. He handed her the empty glass. “The oppositeactually.”

She tilted her head, but remainedquiet.

He turned toward the door, before she could recover enough to respond, but glanced back over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought. “Thank you for the Motrin. I feel muchbetter.”

She stood up, realizing she didn’t really want him to go. But she followed him to the door, where he quickly exited, but turned one last timearound.

“See you in the morning,Samantha.”

She nodded, leaning her head against the doorframe. “Seeya.”

* * *

It waspast four in the afternoon when they stopped for gas in Chippewa, Nebraska. The weather was cold and foggy, but a small cafe was just across the road, promising the best split pea soup in town. Samantha climbed out of the Mustang, trying to shake the tingles from her legs where they’d fallen asleep, but it wasn’t quite working. She found herself holding onto the side of the car to catch herbalance.

Even though she still had enough snacks to keep a small football team satisfied for a weekend, she was excited for the excuse to get out of the car for a while. To warm her body from the inside out with a hot cupofsoup.

Tristan got out of the car and stretched his arms above his head—which lifted his hoodie just enough to make his stomach visible. “I’ll fill up,” he yawned. “Why don’t you go get us atable?”

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