Chapter 9
NINE
HARLEY
When I first got a scholarship to NEU, I used most of my own money I’d made from creating content to get set up with the Omnipod system because at the time, our insurance wasn’t very good.
It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it for me to continue playing with diabetes.
Shortly after that, my dad was promoted at work, and the insurance aspect was no longer an issue.
I guess I didn’t realize how spoiled I’d been for the past year. Until now.
“Whatcha looking at over there?” Haven says from across the room, spritzing herself with my warm vanilla spray that’s actually meant for hair. I don’t bother telling her that though because she’ll just shrug.
She’s been pestering me about stopping by a party at one of the male athlete houses, The Lookout, for a while now.
If it were at The Tower, I would have said no because Cane lives there, and after our interaction at the field yesterday, I don’t feel like running into him again.
Then again, The Tower is right next to The Lookout, so there’s a chance he’ll still show up.
“Um … hello? Earth to Harley,” Haven says when I don’t respond.
Closing the lid on my supplies, I stand up.
“Nothing,” I reply, glancing her over. “Wow, you look hot.”
Haven is stunning. Then again, after meeting her mom, Anna, and her dad, Mason, I don’t know how she wouldn’t be because they are both insanely good-looking.
“Thanks, bish.” She winks, looking at herself in the mirror and applying some lip gloss. “Isla is coming out with us, too, if you can believe it.”
“Wow. How did you convince us both to come out with you tonight?” I gasp.
“I have no freaking clue,” she says, smacking her lips together and admiring herself. “All right, let’s roll.”
Like me, Isla Hardy doesn’t like to go to parties, whereas Haven loves them. She doesn’t really drink, but she loves to dance and flirt with guys.
All the guys.
I don’t flirt because at the end of the day, I wouldn’t have time ever to date one of them if he flirted back.
I made a rule for myself years ago, when I finally became the softball player I always wanted to be.
No distractions. No dating. No men.
In high school, I watched so many friends of mine become unfocused and take their eyes off the prize.
They’d end up skipping practices or quitting altogether.
Love has a weird way of making you forget about everything else that’s important in your life.
I’ve worked too hard to get here to throw it away.
So, I don’t flirt. And I don’t date. Neither of those things is going to change anytime soon, either. Not until I get where I’m going—playing for a professional softball team somewhere.
CANE
Parking my truck along the sidewalk in front of The Tower, I watch people file into The Lookout, all heading to the party. The last place I want to be right now is at a crowded party, around a fuck ton of people. No thanks.
A group of girls walks down the sidewalk, and I squint my eyes in the darkness, knowing that one of them is Harley because the way she moves gives it away.
Her hair is down tonight—a rare occurrence. And even though I can’t make out her face from down the road, I can see her hair flowing freely in the breeze.
She’s playing on her phone, trailing behind Isla Hardy and Haven King as they walk ahead, chatting. Unable to stop myself, I roll my window down.
“Pssst,” I say loudly, and when she doesn’t look up from the screen, I do it all over again but louder. “Pssssst!”
This time, her gaze snaps up, and she stares at me as her feet come to a stop.
“Careful, Catch. You’re going to run into something, looking down like that,” I tease her.
Her friends eventually slow, looking back at her, and when they start talking in hushed tones, I can’t hear what it is. Seconds later, they walk toward The Lookout, but she stays behind.
Walking up to my window, she scowls. “Why are you everywhere, Hale?” She narrows her eyes. “Seriously, it’s getting really annoying.”
“I mean … you realize I live on this street too, right?” I say, gawking at her.
“Whatever,” she utters, taking a step back. “Just … stop being so … everywhere. It’s weird and creepy, and I don’t know how to take it.”
She starts to turn on her feet, and I surprise myself when I reach out the window and stop her by grazing her arm.
Instantly, her eyes fly to where I’m lightly touching her body before she lifts her gaze, and I’m met with an angered scowl.
Part of me wants to push her and keep my hold, but the other part of me is fucking terrified of this woman.
“Did you at least consider what I asked you last night?” I blurt out. “Even just for, like, five seconds.”
“No,” she says, gritting her teeth. “I told you; I’m not interested in your help or taking money from your family. I don’t like being looked at like a charity case, but thanks.”
She turns away from me, and this time, I don’t touch her to stop her from walking away, instead using my words.
“What if you could help me out too?” I call behind her quickly, just as she’s about to cross the road. “If we were both getting something out of it, it wouldn’t be charity … right?”
This catches her attention, but still, she doesn’t turn to face me, though she also doesn’t move.
“People hate me, Catch. And it’s getting worse by the day.” I stop, wincing at my own words because admitting it out loud really fucking sucks. “But you?” I think back to all the people commenting and liking her posts on Instagram and all the followers she’s gained. “People love you.”
Not right away, but slowly, she turns to look at me. Her eyes are narrowed, but more in confusion or questioning than anything else. The moonlight hits her shiny red hair, illuminating it so much that it almost glows like a halo at the top.
“What does people loving me have to do with me helping you?”
The next words are caught in my throat because this chick? She makes me really fucking nervous, and that’s nothing I’ve ever experienced before. But before I explain everything to her, I push my door open and hop out, slamming it shut behind me.
“Because people think I’m the villain now. But if we were friends … if people thought that Catcher Harley thought I was a good person … maybe they wouldn’t think I was so bad.”
In a stare down, she glares like she’s waiting for me to tell her I’m joking or some shit. She’s taken aback by what I just said. But part of me can sense that she’s considering what I said as well. And that’s a start.
Finally, she folds her arms over her chest, and her body language shifts. Instantly, I know this isn’t good news for me because I can feel the energy radiating from her body.
“Seriously? You sank your reputation, and now you want me to do the same?” she asks incredulously. “For real?”
She has a point, but that’s not really going to win her over, so I have to come up with something—and fast.
“No, because you have a bigger following than I do. Your fans are loyal, Meadows.” I take a step toward her. “Come on. Am I really that bad?”
“Umm … you were there, right?” She tilts her head to the side. “You spray-painted the shit out of a beautiful, brand-new dugout. So, yes, you are that bad.”
I can’t tell this girl that I didn’t spray a single drop of paint. I want to so she stops looking at me like I’m an asshole, but I can’t because I don’t know her enough to be sure she’d keep my secret. So I just shrug.
“Yeah, I know I fucked up.”
She scoffs, shaking her head slightly. “Fucked up? Yeah, you did.”
She takes a step back, and I know she’s getting ready to bolt.
“Do you at least have enough medication or whatever to get you through right now?” I say, dragging a hand over my head.
“Are you completely out yet, Harley? Because I know how fucking serious type 1 diabetes is. I understand you don’t want my help.
I’m a fuckup, and you hate my guts—whatever.
But if you are out, I hope you’ll fucking tell someone. ”
My words seem to catch her off guard, and her head rears back.
“I have enough to get me through a little longer,” she finally mutters before letting out a sigh. “I’m fine, Hale. This isn’t your problem.”
But for some reason, I want it to be.
For a moment, we’re caught just staring at each other when, eventually, she turns away from me again. Now though, she wastes no time before she jogs down toward the party. I don’t try to stop her this time because it’s becoming damn obvious she’d rather suffer than consider my offer.
As much as I want to go to that party to keep an eye on her, she doesn’t want my help. And if I do go there, I’ll just end up pissing her off.
Again.
So, rather than doing that, I walk into my house, knowing damn well that even though she told me it wasn’t my problem … I’m still not going to be able to just let it go that easy.