Page 27 of Losing the Rhythm

For the rest of the class, I couldn’t focus enough to remember a single lyric sung by the other students thanks to Toby. I kept going over the moment over and over again, picking it apart, trying to determine what it meant.

And if it meant what I thought it meant, what did that mean for me?

My stomach became a knot of anxiety and excitement. I wasn’t sure what to feel, but it definitely made me more aware of Toby. Every time he shifted in his seat. When he glanced my way even though I pretended not to pay attention. When he clapped. Laughed. Smiled. Talked. Breathed.

Shit.

What was going on with me?

Chapter Seven

After school was over, I was kidnapped by Paxon. And yet, somehow I felt like I was the one doing the kidnapping.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble with your coach?” I asked, knowing he was skipping practice.

“He’ll get over it.”

I frowned and briefly tapped at the steering wheel while waiting for the light.

“Paxon, is there something you aren’t telling me?” I glanced over at him.

“I just need space from soccer. I’ll explain it to my coach afterward.” His words were clipped, almost harsh, matching the stiffness in his body. A big yellow caution sign went off in my mind.

The light turned green and we headed to our destination. There was a small gift shop I wanted to swing by. Micah had cornered me in the afternoon, which ended with me promising to have dinner with his family tonight. I’d been putting it off long enough, and I did miss them. Micah and his parents taught me what a functional family looked like—at least one filled with love and support. Having a sick parent had its own set of issues.

I worked up the nerve to keep pushing Paxon, not wanting to back off. Strangers backed off. I didn’t want to be like that with him. Being close meant talking about the hard stuff too, right? I hoped so as I slowly blew out a breath, steeled my nerves and, despite knowing I could potentially step on a landmine, asked, “Does this have to do with if you were going to keep playing in college?”

Paxon sighed and played with his dark green beanie. His blond hair stuck out, and I knew if I took it from him, his hair would be messy. I was almost ready to apologize and back off. By the way his jaw hardened, his hands clenching in his lap, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Was I pushing? Should I have not asked?

“There are a million and one reasons why I should take the scholarship,” he finally answered. “It’s free money, and college isn’t cheap. I don’t want to put any pressure on my dad about college if I don’t have to.”

“But…”

“But my commitment and love for soccer, it isn’t to the degree that I want to spend college playing it. That kind of pressure, I don’t want it.”

I slowly turned us into the parking lot and parked, turning off the car.

I licked my lips and thought over my words again before finally asking, “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

“No.”

I stared down at my nails, only to realize they had been bitten down to the skin. When did I even do that? I had never been a nail biter before. I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs slowly. “Is it something you can’t talk to him about?”

“I just don’t want to disappoint him.” His words were beginning to soften the more he spoke. It only urged me to keep going. He hadn’t told me to shut up yet, that had to mean something, right?

I understood his fear too. I never wanted to disappoint anyone. It was scary to know that you caused someone else discomfort or pain. I lived my whole life trying to not be a disappointment to Lindie. Feeling like I had been the biggest disappointment to my dad. And I didn’t want to disappoint these guys. I thought I was a boring person. A difficult person. And I didn’t want to disappoint them when they realized I wasn’t as exciting as they probably thought I was.

“I thought my dad hated me for the longest time,” I said. “I thought he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“The letter he sent you,” he said.

I nodded. “To think all those years feeling like I disappointed him. That I wasn’t worth him keeping me and then I get a letter and learn it wasn’t the case at all.”

“You wrote him a reply, didn’t you?” Paxon asked softly. He reached over and grabbed my hand. I hadn’t even realized I had curled my hand into a fist until he smoothed out my hand and held it.

“I did. And it was the scariest thing I’d ever done. But I’m also… relieved. I had to give it a chance, right? Maybe you should give him a chance too?”

“Maybe,” Paxon murmured before getting out of the car, a clear ‘this conversation is over’ marker. He walked around and waited for me at the hood of the car. It took me a moment to drop it and once I knew I wasn’t going to keep trying to push him, I climbed out and joined him.

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