Page 46 of Flame After the Fumble

My mind wanders to the perfect night we just experienced. He thought out every single detail with only a small percentage that I would show up. Maybe I’ve been ignoring all the effort he’s been putting in. “Hmmm. I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“Plus, he’s hot.” She giggles and kicks her feet under the blanket.

I grab my pillow from under my head and shove it over my face. “He is, isn't he?” Inhaling a deep breath, my mind hones in on my biggest reservations. “What if he isn’t any different?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Don’t go there.”

“Really, though. What if everything starts out shiny and new, but he gets tired of me, just like Layne did.”

“He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She props herself up on her elbows to look me straight in the eyes. “The looks he gives you. He doesn’t see anyone but you.” She sticks another finger up to count. “The way he begged you to spend a few hours with him at the apartmentwithyour little sister. Layne didn’t do either of those things.”

Layne didn’t beg me to spend time with him. It was always the other way around. I was there, but more out of convenience than need or want. “You’re right.”

“I know I am.” Willow looks out of the window into the night, reaching over to trace her name on the foggy window made possible by the stark contrast in temperature from the warm, cozy dorm. “This is the best Christmas ever, and it’s just starting.”

Hearing Willow’s admission sends a flood of relief through my body. I was starting to feel guilty about her missing the traditions we usually have in New Orleans during Christmas. She wouldn’t get to visit City Park on Christmas Eve to see the lights or shop at our favorite mall and experience the chaos of last minute shoppers. “I hope you don’t regret missing out on everything we used to do.”

“Liza.” She grabs my shoulder and squeezes. “The best part of Christmas has always been you. You know Dad’s too busy working, and Mom’s too on a whim for me.”

I let out an uncontrollable laugh and grip my stomach. Mom and Willow have always been too different to understand eachother. “But how do you like hanging out with me when I’m Mom’s clone?”

“You and Mom are hippies, but you’ve never left me.”

Her honesty hits me in the chest. I’d felt like a major burden lately with how much I had fallen off the rails in the months prior to leaving for college. Partying too much. Coming home too late or worse, not coming home at all. Changing my life plans to relocate to a new city hours away from home. “I would never leave, Willow. You kept me afloat when I thought I was drowning.”

“That’s what sisters are for.”

A tear wells in the corner of my eyes, and I bat it away before getting all mushy right before bed. “Always, my girl.”

31

Hartley

Goldie: Are we still on for the pre-game run through today?

Me: Yes, want me to pick you up?

Goldie: No, it’s okay. I’m going to head back to get ready with Vi after I sketch what I need.

Me: See ya soon.

Things have been. . . normal since Liza and I became whatever we are. In a way, we’re still in limbo. She’s not officially my girlfriend, yet, but she’s more than my friend. I made that much clear over winter break. Hearing her confess her feelings warmed my chest. All the hard work I put into throwing myself into making us work paid off. I always wanted to think she saw me as more than an annoying friend she couldn’t escape or a carbon copy of her toxic ex, but hearing herwords changed everything. We’ve both been tied up with school, football, and art, but when we do see each other, I can’t keep my hands off of her.

When classes resumed after winter break, Liza went to the Center of Student Excellence and resigned from the tutoring gig. She said her moral compass wouldn’t allow her to accept money for tutoring since we’ve crossedprofessional boundaries. Her words, not mine. Luckily, we still study together at the apartment, and since she’s started helping me, my GPA has risen enough to temporarily lift the academic probation I found myself on at the beginning of the year.

Still staring at my phone like a lovesick puppy, I shake my head and click it off to gather a bag together to head to the field in a few minutes for pre-game walkthroughs.

“Hart! Are you still here?” Violet’s soft voice carries through the echoey apartment into my room.

“Yeah, come in. I’m getting my gear together.” The pitter-patter of her slippers on the hardwood floor treads closer to my room. Knocking gently on the cracked door, she peeks in from behind the white wood. Her beady eyes look tired, in a way I haven’t seen them look in a long time. “What’s going on, Vi?” Making quick strides across the room, I meet her at the door and open it fully for her to come in. She slips in, shoulders slumped, and drops down on my bed.

“I don’t know,” she lets out while she gnaws on her red fingers that have been picked over for days. “I haven’t been able to sleep, and I constantly feel like something bad is about to happen.”

Plopping next to her on the bed, I develop a game plan for how to talk her through this one. Violet’s OCD hasn’t reared its ugly head as much since her and Ryan have made things official. Maybe that’s because he sees more of it than me now, but regardless, I hate seeing her this way. “Wanna go through the grounding techniques?”

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