Page 5 of My High School Rebel Boyfriend
With a slow breath in, I edged my toes back. I could see bruises along his calf—basketball could be a rather physical sport, I guessed. He started counting above me. “1...”
“I’m up to three,” I protested, performing a single one.
“2...”
“4...” I countered back, and then louder than him, “5...”
My arms were burning, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of failing. No way. I held my body in position, fearful I was about to collapse. “6, 7...” I did two in a row quickly, a trickle of sweat pooling on my forehead, my heart pounding in my chest.
Three more Harper, I told myself,you can do it. Use your muscles.
“8,” he said, and as if bored and disgusted, “Weak...9...”
I could dig deep for one more, couldn’t I? As my arms trembled, I became aware of his scent, that same cloud of intoxicating fragrance, and realized Mitchell Finlayson had squatted down beside me. That he was close, closer than I wanted him to be. With one final push he scoffed, “10, pathetic,” and on hearing it I instantly groaned and collapsed to the floor.
I felt his shadow rise over me and I pulled myself onto my knees, my body shaking at the effort exerted. It was a wonder I hadn’t died. Stumbling to my feet, he hadn’t moved, his arms firmly crossed over his chest.
His eyebrows raised a fraction, his face impassive. “Payback,” he murmured through unmoving lips, and then he swiftly kicked at the mat and shifted across to the ladder.
My heart was beating at a million miles an hour, even after I’d moved onto Titan’s group. It felt like I was in the throes of hypoglycemia, but I couldn’t be. I’d eaten a banana directly before training, and though I was working hard, it wasn’t excessive. Titan wasn’t quite the same hard task master, instead showing a relaxed side as he had us doing a variety of relay sprints. I imagined he’d made up half of them just to make us look foolish. I disputed that frog jumps, kangaroo hops, bear crawls and crab walks were beneficial to volleyball in any way. Especially the wriggling worm move.
“Yeah, you might think it’s not going to help directly,” Titan said, “but anything that gets you moving is bound to be good, andsometimes it’s the fun elements of training that help you most.” I was starting to suspect that the tough guy act he portrayed wasn’t his true self.
“Yeah, well your friend doesn’t believe in fun, does he?” I said, signaling to Mitchell who was watching Shay, and then Bella do knee pushups. Like...what??? “Hey, he made me do full pushups,” I said, “yet he’s going easy on them.”
Titan laughed. “Were you able to do them?”
“Yeah,” I huffed, “but I nearly died.”
Titan held his hand up for a fist bump. Surprised, I obliged. “Yeah, but youdidit,” he stated.
I stared over, willing for Mitchell to look my way.
Payback, he’d said.
Okay, if he was going to play dirty,
Then it was game on...
Chapter 3
HARPER
THE NEXT MORNING MYchest muscles were sore and it hurt every time I lifted my arms. I felt pathetic. Ten full pushups.
Mitchell Finlayson was a jerk, that much was true.
Though, it got me thinking—I’d performed ten pushups. Barely, but I’d done it.
Since my diabetes diagnosis I’d given up the track team, and this year I’d been ready to quit volleyball. It had only been Maddie’s incessant pleading that made me sign up again.
Back in middle school I’d been a top athlete and in freshman year I’d been neck and neck with Tanchia in the sprint races. These days Tanchia was looking at a college scholarship in track and field, and though I didn’t resent her for it, it hurt that I could have been looking at the same opportunities—if a stupid disease called diabetes hadn’t snatched it away from me.
I never pushed myself these days. Miss Barber never forced me to do the extra laps in training, or she’d let me finish early if I said I felt tired. The time I’d had a low had scared her and I guess she was afraid that making me work too hard might be detrimental to my health. No coach wanted to be responsible for breaking a student.
Mitchell Finlayson didn’t know I had diabetes. He’d pushed me to my limits.
What astounded me was that I’d responded.
