Page 178 of Things I Wish I Said
I have no idea what to expect, but most of the outcomes I’ve pictured over the last month have gone sideways. I can only hope he’ll understand once I explain.
A torrent of students spill from the doors, and I glance at the time, confirming Grayson’s class has likely ended.
I take a few steps back, until I’m hovering more than six yards away, taking in every face in search of him when I spot him.
He exits beside two other students. One of them is a girl. She’s gorgeous, with long blonde hair, and even longer legs, doe eyes, and a bright smile.
The three of them hover in the doorway as the other students step around them.
She smiles up at him and laughs at something he says while he shakes his head.
The sight of it makes me nauseous.
The guy they’re with stretches his arm out, and they bump fists. Then Grayson turns and heads this way.
I swallow, stepping closer to the sidewalk at the same time Grayson lifts his head.
Chapter forty-five
GRAYSON
I leave my noonclass with Hendricks, one of our outfielders, and his girlfriend Cassidy. We have training tonight, and then plans to go out to a local pub that’s not discerning when it comes to the legal drinking age for beer.
Once I say my goodbyes and tell Hendricks I’ll meet up with him later, I turn, content with skipping lunch and heading back to the dorms for a nap instead.
My stride eats up the sidewalk, my mind on the paper I have due next week when someone steps out onto the sidewalk in front of me, and my steps falter. My heart stops. Because I know that face.
Sinclair.
Butterflies rise inside my chest, like they’ve been waiting only for this moment to reappear.
My gaze roams over her, drinking her in. Part of me wonders if my mind is playing tricks on me, like maybe she’s a mirage, or I’m finally losing my shit.
But it’s really her. It must be.
There’s a glow to her skin, a brightness to her hazel eyes that’s new. And she has hair. Not just the fuzz I fell in love with, but several inches have grown since I last saw her, styled with a little silver clip. It’s chocolate brown and suits her heart-shaped face, bringing out her hazel eyes.
I don’t realize I’m just standing here staring until she closes the gap, and then she’s directly in front of me, filling the space around me like my own personal ray of sunshine.
“Hey, Slugger.” She tries for a smile, but its full of nerves, so she drops it.
“What are you doing here?”
For a second, I think she might crack a joke—typical Ryleigh—but she doesn’t.
“I came to see you.”
“Why?”
I’m not making this easy on her, but I’m finding it hard to care. She didn’t exactly try to make anything easy for me when she left me at the Dolby Theater, and then again at the hotel alone.
“Do you wanna go somewhere else to talk, or . . .”
She glances around us, and I follow her gaze, taking in the buzz of campus. There are plenty of students passing by, but none of them pay us any mind.
“I’m good here,” I say, unsure of why she’s here.
“Okay.” Ryleigh swallows, then glances at the ground before lifting her head, a flash of determination in her hazel eyes. “I came to tell you I was wrong. About all of it. Every single thingI said to you before I left. I was so caught up in this need to be remembered as something other than ordinary or sick that I forgot I had people in my life who already think I’m extraordinary, no matter what I do or whether I’m kicking a ball down the field. I lost myself when I lost soccer, and I had no damn idea how to navigate the minefield of figuring out who I was without it.”
