Page 19 of Faking Summer
But Lo's laughter was soft, and she reached out, her fingers grabbing my bicep with surprising strength. "Don't, Reese."
"What did she do?" I demanded, shaking my head, pulse pounding.
Lo let out a reluctant breath, like even saying it out loud would make it worse. "She posted a list on her story today—everyone she thinks will make the cheer team. I wasn’t on it. And she's got some top secret connection that’s teaching her and her friends the routines early. They'll have an upper hand at tryouts."
I let out a sharp exhale, my jaw tightening. "Cheating her way to the top. Typical Clark move. Why do you even want this so bad?"
She leaned back, looking anywhere but at me. "I don't know. Why have you always wanted to play baseball?"
I shrugged, trying to calm myself down. "Because I’m good at it."
She nodded slowly. "Well, I want this really bad. I want to be good at it. I want to be good at something like you are."
There was something raw in her voice, something that made my stomach twist. I’d seen Lo excited before, passionate about things, but this—this was different. This was her putting herself out there, risking something. And I hated that a fucking Clark was the one trying to take it from her. Truthfully, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for Lo. If I could have gift-wrapped her dreams and dropped them in her lap, I would’ve—no hesitation.
"Then practice," I said, my voice firm, like it was the easiest thing in the world. This was the best option I could give her, because it was true. "You'll be fine."
She slumped her shoulders. "But I don’t have an advantage."
I huffed, dragging a hand down my face before leaning in,leveling my gaze with hers. "Hey, you're a Carrington. We always have an advantage."
But doubt lingered in her eyes, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. She didn’t believe me. And I hated that I couldn’t solve her problems as easy as I could when she was younger.
I swallowed hard, trying to shove down the frustration and helplessness clawing at my chest. "You’re going to be fine," I assured her, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "We have some time to figure this out. And Lo," I added, reaching for her hand, "don't ever let a fucking Clark make you cry. Pinky promise me."
A shaky giggle escaped her, and she looped her pinky around mine, sealing the promise with a wobbly smile. It wasn’t enough. But it was something.
We stood together, and she made her way inside, leaving me alone on the porch, my hands braced on my hips as I stared out into the night, my jaw tight.
This wasn’t just her problem anymore. It was now mine.
And for his sake, Wells fucking Clark better pray I didn’t run into him tonight.
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "Cheerleading," I muttered under my breath, "is going to be the fucking death of me."
nine
Caroline
A row of cars sat in my driveway, leaving me no choice but to park on the curb. I killed the engine and sat there for a moment before I pushed open the car door and stepped out. I immediately smelled the grill my dad must have set up. Once I got inside, I could see my family was on our back deck.
I moved slowly, hoping no one would notice me escape up the stairs to the sanctuary of my room. But just as I placed my foot on the second step, a deliberate cough came from behind me.
"Caroline," my mother's voice floated up to me. "Wasn't sure what time you'd be home. Put your things away and come have dinner with the family."
"Actually," I descended further up the stairs, "I'm not all that hungry, and I'm meeting Sam at Gin & Jerry's soon."
"Then you can just sit with us and enjoy the company of your family before you go," she said, more a demand than a request.
"Be right down, Mother.”
I let out a long breath as I made my way back downstairs and then outside. I slid into a seat, my presence barely registering withmy family. I wondered, not for the first time, why my mother insisted I be here, like I was some sort of centerpiece or table setting.
Across from me, my cousin fluttered her lashes, basking in the glow of attention as she captivated the audience with tales of her millionaire fiancé and his real estate empire. She went on about the blueprints of her future home.
"Caroline," my mother's elbow nudged me with enough force to pull me from my boredom. "You see that? You should be more like your cousin. She's going to have a great future."
I grabbed a dinner roll, its flaky remnants spilling on the plate in front of me. I brought it to my lips as I rolled my eyes.
