Chapter 6 #2
His serve was also insane—borderline inhuman. Catching it was basically impossible. Still, it was fun to try.
Despite the pain in muscles I didn’t know I had, Colin turned out to be a decent guy.
No judgment. He became a fast friend, which was a refreshing change.
He and the other guys on the team were good.
Suddenly, my dad’s insistence made sense.
Hanging around them meant workouts and endurance trials, not hookups and getting high.
They weren’t saints, but next to me, they looked like golden boys.
I’d tried therapy again. After going through five therapists, my dad started doubting its effectiveness. I picked up drumming again, and for some reason, that seemed to settle him. It definitely settled me.
After the guilt wore off—if it ever existed at all—my mom went right back to her usual self.
Unsolicited comments about my diet, casual jabs at my appearance.
On good days, I was her best friend, and we’d spend hours shopping and gossiping.
But on bad days, I had to shut the fuck up and leave her alone.
I never knew who I was going to get: Jekyll or Hyde.
And if I dared to push back, she just came back louder, more charged.
So I thought about all the things I could say to get under her skin instead. I imagined it. Practiced it. Fantasized about the moment I’d finally tell her to fuck off and be the one to walk away.
But I didn’t.
I was supposed to be keeping the peace.
My only act of rebellion was cranking up the music and going hard on the drums, chasing a noise loud enough to silence the chaos she left behind.
Colin and Holly got along, which worked out great for me.
One day, we were out in the courtyard, sitting on one of the tables. I had a little speaker set out, humming to songs and playing air drums while they ate lunch and gossiped.
“I thought she was dating Beck,” Colin said.
“No, Beck wanted to, but she’s into Victor Hass,” Holly said before taking a bite of a fry.
“She totally traded up. Beck’s a dick.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed.
Colin’s eyebrows shot up.
“What? It’s true. A year ago, he was copying off me during a physics quiz, and when he got caught, he told Mr. Salvatore I was asking him for answers.
In front of the whole class,” I said, still irked.
I could be a lot of things, but a cheater wasn’t one of them.
If I was going to flunk, I’d flunk fair and square.
Hold the Line started playing.
“This is such a good fucking song.” I closed my eyes and followed the rhythm, playing without sticks but still feeling every beat.
It was surreal—how the music could connect with your body on such a deep level, like it was playing you, not the other way around.
Guiding your movements and making everything come alive.
“Do you actually know what you’re doing?” Colin asked.
“Yeah, he plays. It’s not just for show. Or, well, a little. But he does play,” Holly added.
I ignored them and stayed with the riff.
“Do you play with a band?”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
“He’s an oddly solitary player,” Holly said. “Even though, in real life, he never shuts up and needs to participate in every social interaction.”
“Well said,” I replied, still tapping along.
Colin leaned on his elbow, watching me. “Jake Hale is looking for a drummer. He’s friends with George from the team. This was a couple weeks ago, but maybe they’re still looking. Why don’t you try out?”
“Because playing is how I let off steam. I’m angry, I play. I’m sad, I play. I’m overstimulated and annoyed with everybody’s existence, I play. That doesn’t seem like a group activity to me.”
“It’s a hundred percent a group activity,” Holly muttered absently.
“Plus, what kind of music does Jake Hale’s band even play? Are they into metal? Because I’ll be a hundred percent honest with you and say this”—I pointed to the speaker—“this is what I’m about.”
“Yeah, are they into corny eighties rock or pop? Because that’s exclusively his vibe,” Holly teased, smirking when I glared at her.
“I have no clue. But I could ask, if you want.”
I chuckled to myself. “Could you imagine if I went and auditioned? I know exactly what song I’d pick.”
I grabbed my phone, typed quickly, and hit play.
As soon as it started, Holly snorted.
“What?” Colin asked.
“Col, don’t tell me you don’t recognize our queen. The one and only. The goddess. The icon,” I said, mock-dramatic.
“Madonna, Col,” Holly said.
I arched a brow and pointed at him as I started singing, “Papa, I know you’re going to be upset…”
Colin was already bracing for impact, a grin stretching across his face. I started playing again, tapping out a beat with exaggerated flair, swaying a little as the music took over. Closing my eyes, I let the lyrics roll out of me like gospel. God, this song was so fucking good.
“Oh, here we go,” Holly said.
“Crank it up—all the way, Hols,” I said, and she did.
I didn’t hesitate.
I stood from the bench like it was a stage cue, grabbed Holly’s phone right out of her hand, flipped it in my fingers like a mic, and stepped up onto the table. I tilted my chin up, threw my free arm wide, and launched into full performance mode—chest puffed, voice loud, hips swaying in rhythm.
When I hit the line about the guy my dad had warned me about, I added dramatic air quotes and pointed to an invisible figure in the distance.
I crouched low and did a slow turn, milking it for every ounce of attention.
Colin was half hiding his face in his hands, clearly mortified, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
Holly, unbothered, mouthed along like she’d seen it a hundred times.
As the chorus roared, I dropped to my knees on the tabletop, clutching Holly’s phone to my chest like it was a love letter and belting out the part about keeping my baby. My voice cracked with raw, over-the-top emotion, and I didn’t care.
When the music softened for a beat, I opened my eyes and found Colin again, still hiding—but laughing.
I grinned at him, breathless. “It’s a fucking epic song, and I will not take any criticism.”
Applause broke out from a group of older girls across the courtyard. I gave them a gracious bow with a flourish of my phone-mic.
“Mr. Rossi, off the table,” a teacher called from across the lawn.
“Sure thing, Mr. Walters,” I replied, hopping off.
As I landed, I noticed a few lacrosse guys watching from behind the girls.
One of them—broad shoulders, confident posture—was giving me a once-over.
His gaze was unhurried, and when it finally reached my eyes, I smiled and winked.
He turned away like he hadn’t been caught, but the flush creeping up his neck gave him away.
“Not that it wasn’t an outstanding performance,” Colin said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “But I need to get to class. I’m still going to ask about the band position—you’re even a halfway decent singer. Maybe that’ll get you in.”
“That almost sounded like a compliment.” I dropped into the seat next to Holly.
“Almost,” he called back, already walking away.
“I like him. He survived the cringe test. Can we keep him?” she asked.
My eyes drifted back to the lacrosse guy. He was probably a senior, sitting a little apart from the group, his eyes determinedly pointed away from me.
“Who’s that guy?”
“Who?”
“Hunky lacrosse guy,” I said, nodding toward him.
“Shane?”
“Is that the big one?”
“Yup.”
“Shane. Kinda hot name,” I mused. “He was totally checking me out.”
“Seriously?” Holly’s smile stretched wider—absolutely living for the gossip.
“A hundred percent. Bet you fifty bucks he looks again. Give him a minute,” I said, and we waited. Sure as shit, his eyes flicked back to me, then darted away.
“Oh my god. Shane is top of the food chain,” she said with an approving nod.
I gave him an appreciative glance. “I love guys like that.”
“Jocks?”
“Well, yeah. But more like the muscled kind. Thick thighs, ripped, veiny forearms—the works. If I had a type, that would be it.”
“I’m with you on that one. Beefy guys are where it’s at.” She shot the lacrosse table a theatrical leer.
Shane kept pretending I didn’t exist until he couldn’t help himself. His gaze found mine again. This time, he held it. I smiled, slow and intentional, and tilted my head just slightly.
The message was clear: I’m game if you are.
He shook his head a little, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. That was a yes if I’d ever seen one. After a moment—and several awkward neck rubs—he finally smiled and gave a subtle nod toward the building.
I grinned.
“What?” Holly asked as I started throwing my stuff into my bag.
I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to go play with that guy’s lacrosse stick. I’ll fill you in later. Love ya,” I said, already pushing away from the table and heading in his direction.
I watched his back as I followed.
Not bad.
Could be thicker.
But not bad.