Page 25 of Puck'N Enemy
Is Dylan worth the attention I’m giving him?
Maybe not. But there’s only one way to find out.
“Thanks for this,” I say, giving Mitchikov his phone back. “I owe you one.”
“That was nothing,” he says, grinning at me. “Just make sure you don’t get into any trouble over this guy.”
“I won’t,” I promise him.
“So, will I see you after classes today?”
“Nah. I’m going to take a look into this address and see what I can find out.”
Mitchikov looks like he wants to say something more but steps back. “All right, then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning in the gym, then?”
“Yep! Catch you later, bud.”
I walk away and head to the nearby parking lot. I have classes this afternoon but I’m ditching them.
Getting into my car, I check the address on my phone again and drive out of the campus. It takes me a while to get through traffic to reach the part of town I haven’t been to since my high school days.
The old, dilapidated factory buildings look the same as they did years ago. My car jerks and shakes as I drive over cracked roads.
Soon, I enter a street that’s lined with tall, crumbling apartment buildings. Laundry lines crisscross over my head, casting a network over the tiny balconies.
Parking my car on the street, I step out.
I stare up at the building where Dylan is supposed to be living. Worn bricks and cracked concrete line the faded walls. Every window is smudged with thick dirt, making it impossible to see anything beyond them.
This isn’t the kind of place someone chooses to live in if they have other options.
Dylan could’ve easily gotten comfortable accommodation at his university. The Bears are a strong team without a lack of funding or sponsorships. He could’ve easily lived on campus instead of this hellhole.
Suddenly, my gut twists. It’s the same feeling I’ve been getting each time I feel Dylan’s absence.
Taking a deep breath, I walk inside the building.
The walls and staircase are heavily covered in graffiti art. I climb up the steps until I reach the apartment I’m looking for.
I raise my hand to press the doorbell, but I hesitate for a moment.
My heart hammers in my chest with a mix of emotions.
Am I ready to face Dylan? Can I stay patient enough this time and make him explain what happened in the past?
Suddenly, the door creaks open.
And the breath whooshes right out of me.
But...wait...
The man standing on the other side of the door isn’t Dylan.
“...Coach Becker?”
10
Logan
