Page 38 of The Last Person
My heart drops into my stomach. Nausea roils through me.
No.I finally figured out my feelings, and he’s talking to someone else?
But I have zero seconds left to school my features and pretend I’m fine, so I do it.
“Ah, that’s cool. You didn’t have to hide it from me.”Lies. I wish I didn’t know. Actually, I wish this wasn’t happening. “Anything serious?”
Part of me needs to know the answer to that question, and the other part is screamingla la labecause I don’t want to know.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Hard to say. I’m going to meet up with them after the game, and see how the vibes are.”
“Cool. Let me know if you want me to come as backup.” Or as a cockblock.
A noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and an exhale slips out of him. “Somehow, I’m not sure that’ll help.”
Silence falls between us because what the fuck do I say to that? Do I beg him not to go? Admit my feelings? Bury it all and let him be happy with someone else?
Isn’t that the saying? If you love someone, let them go?
Am I in love with him?
Wow, I really don’t want to answer that question right now.
Before I come up with anything to say, Brian’s warm hand lands on my thigh.
I turn toward him, and he squeezes my leg. “We should get ready to go.”
Go. Because we have a game. Great.
“Yeah,” I say as he stands, but all I can do is watch him walk down the hallway, feeling like everything I want is slipping away as he goes.
I’ve playedlike shit for the entire game. Somehow, we’re still ahead, but not enough to guarantee a win.
I’m stuck on the sidelines, watching our defense do their work. Watching Brian. I can’t take my eyes off him.
“You okay?” Mark asks, stepping up next to me.
“Fine.”
“Wow, it must be bad if you’re that terrible at lying.”
I look at him, then glance around to make sure no one else is close by. The only other person on the team besides him I’d even consider being open with about this is Wendell. No one else needs to know.
“Yes!” I yell when we narrowly stop the opposing team from hitting the ten-yard mark on their third down.
I open my mouth to respond, but I get caught up watching the fourth-down play. After the snap, the ball is tossed sideways, then there’s a fumble, which Brian gets caught up in. I watch closely to see who gets the ball. TJ comes out with it and starts running, when one of the opposing players sacks Brian.
He wasn’t expecting it—since you don’t tackle someone who doesn’t have the ball—and it was a bad angle. A flag is thrown, but I don’t give a shit about that. All I care about is that Brian hasn’t gotten up yet.
I’m running toward the field before I know what I’m doing, ready to murder the guy who tackled him, but I’ve only made it a few steps when Mark’s in front of me, arms around my chest.
“Don’t do it.”
“He wasn’t anywhere near the ball!”
“And the refs know that too. Let them handle it.”
“He’s still on the ground,” I grit out, trying to push out of his grip.
