Page 22 of Beautiful Collide

I freeze with my hand still in the locker.

I know that voice.

Correction: Ihatethat voice.

Molly.

Of course, it’s her. The bane of my existence.

Figures she’d be the one here.

Who knows what she’s doing, but she’s always around.

There are soft footsteps as she approaches, pausing just shy of my locker.

“Oh, it’s you.”

I pivot where I’m standing and face her. “Hex.”

“For crying out loud, can you stop calling me this? It’s been a year. Get over it. I know I did.”

Easy for her to say.

That day changed my whole trajectory on this team.

Now, all everyone sees is a player. An idiot. A reckless teammate who can’t be relied on, and then a night like tonight happens, and lo and behold, I prove them right, even though the truth is far from what they all think.

Not that anyone cares to find that shit out.

“Great,” I mutter, gently pocketing the photo. “Just what I needed. What are you even doing here,Hex?”

“I left something here last night.” She shrugs, probably enjoying my misery.

We both stare at each other, silent for a moment.

“Well?” I make a shooing motion. “Don’t you have something better to do? Another life to ruin?”

To say we don’t get along after what happened would be an understatement. In the beginning, she tried to make nice, offering a water bottle after practice or an extra pack of grip tape. But I made it clear what I think of her backstabbing ass.

And from there, it spiraled out of control. We finally tore off the gloves. Now, there’s no conversation we can’t turn into a fight. No stone either of us will leave unturned.

She steps into my path, waiting for me to slam my locker shut before she speaks again. “What’s the excuse this time? Alarm didn’t go off? Stuck in traffic? Did you forget you’re a professional athlete?”

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a family emergency.”

Her smirk fades, replaced by a look of mild surprise. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Is everything okay?”

I sigh because she’s being genuine, and it makes me hate her a little less. Emphasis on little. “Just peachy. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You’re still late,” she points out, frowning.

I mock clap around her head, knowing it’ll piss her off. “Wow. A-plus observation, Captain Obvious.”

Our brief truce is gone.

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