Chapter 21 Carrie
I’m standing on the sidewalk, my teeth chattering as I wait for my ride straight to hell.
I’ve now changed my mind. Donovan is getting a full sack and crack wax whether they win or lose, because this absolutely sucks.
I pace up and down the street, keeping my eyes peeled for Adam.
I’m basically whoring out my convictions. I’m like a hooker of the soul.
Watching a game is bad enough for a girl like me—I’m the antithesis of a jock. But watching a game because I’m desperate to see Donovan play is… weird as hell. I’m gonna make sure I get every last hair…
“Carrie!”
I whip around. Adam honks at me, and as I cross the street, I’m half praying I get knocked down or something. Maybe that’ll rewire my brain. I fling open the door and slide into the passenger seat.
“Sorry I’m late—the traffic was bad.”
“No worries. Apparently cold is good for the heart.”
He laughs and cranks up the heat.
“Ready for a night to remember?”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life,” I quip, warming my hands against the vents.
“Don too.”
“Yeah, he’s going to love hearing me cheer him on. ‘Get it in the fucking net, Wolinski!’ ”
“He told me you were Team Maryland…”
“True.” I nod. “So, when I start cheering him on, maybe he’ll freak out and twist an ankle and miss his shot. That’s the plan, anyway.”
He smirks at me. “You’re evil, you know that?”
As we drive, I try to get to know Adam a little better. He’s always been the nicest one.
“Have you got a girlfriend?”
“No…”
The question seems to land awkwardly.
“A boyfriend, maybe?” I correct myself.
“Nah, I don’t swing that way. I mean, I don’t think I do, anyway. I probably need to sleep with a girl before I can be a hundred percent sure.”
“Wow. I didn’t know you were…”
“A virgin?” he finishes for me. “Surprise!”
“Are you waiting for marriage?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve never been with a girl long enough to actually want to sleep with her.”
The more I get to know the guy, the more I like him. Adam has integrity. He goes his own way, walks his own path, without giving a damn what anyone might think. Why does he hang around with jackasses like Lane, Lewis, and Donovan of all people?
“You’re not like the other three,” I tell him. “You seem so normal—no overblown ego, no shady jokes or paranoia. How did you meet those complete freaks?”
He laughs. “Didn’t Don tell you? Lewis and I grew up together.”
“Really?”
He pulls an offended face. “You guys never talk about us?”
“Donovan only talks about himself. Didn’t you notice?”
I’m being a bitch, but deep down, I don’t mean it. It’s a dig at the guy I thought I knew, back before I started hanging out with him. Back in the good old days!
“So, you and Lewis—”
“We’re like brothers. We were even born on the same day,” he adds.
“That’s crazy!”
Adam glances at me. “You think people have to be alike to get along?”
“Definitely not,” I say, realizing how stupid my comment was. “Go easy on me. My people skills aren’t great.”
“You’re doing a good job with Don…”
He keeps his voice neutral, but something about the way he says it tugs at me.
“It’s not like I have a choice.”
Sure you don’t. I glance at Adam. He looks about as convinced as I am.
“Yeah, Don can be pretty persuasive.”
“Not exactly the word I would’ve used, but—yeah.”
“Oh, before I forget…” Adam reaches around to the back seat. “He told me to give you this.”
He tosses a jersey into my lap. A huge number nine is printed on the back, and above it, a name. WOLINSKI. His name, but my mine too—it’s perfect for me. Girl, get your shit together! I ball it up and stuff it into my bag.
“I think you’re supposed to wear it.”
“I don’t think so!”
He laughs and shoots me a look. “How come? It’s just a Cardinals shirt, Carrie. You’re acting like it’ll give you hives, or something.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t order a fangirl costume. I already spend more than enough time hanging out with Donovan—people see me wearing this, they’ll start getting ideas.”
“Is that such a big deal?”
Something in the way Adam says it makes me turn. He’s got the weirdest look on his face, and it takes me a moment to collect my thoughts.
“It’s the biggest deal. There are few things worse in this world than Donny fangirls.”
“Your conversations must get pretty heated when you guys hang out.” Adam laughs. “Though Don seems more relaxed these days.”
I decide to leave it there. Adam doesn’t need to know exactly why Don feels more relaxed lately.
“He told me about his sister, by the way,” Adam adds.
My eyebrows go up. “Really?”
Holy shit. I frown. Adam knows? That makes sense, I reason to myself.
He’s one of Don’s best friends, so I guess my student is on the right track—opening up, being more vulnerable.
It bothers me, though—I realize now that I liked being the only one to know his secret.
I suddenly feel deflated. I’m a terrible person.
“It’s great he’s finally starting to open up.” The words are like cotton wool in my mouth. “Did he tell the others?”
“No, I got him at a low point.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And I’m evil?”
“How dare you! I’m the perfect guy.” He smiles.
“Well, you are a Campus Driver, after all,” I quip.
We’ve arrived at the arena, and I’m suddenly on edge. It’s just a game, I remind myself. No big deal. I’m just doing a friend a favor. A friend called Donovan Wolinski. This is so fucking surreal.
I follow Adam’s lead, and to my surprise, we skirt around the building, moving against the crowd.
“VIP entrance,” he explains.
He rings the bell and waves at the security guards, jerking his chin at me.
“She’s with Donovan.”
“I’m not—”
He grabs my wrist. “This way.”
He leads me down the hall, shaking hands as he goes, exchanging quips as we work our way through the maze. I keep my eyes firmly on his back—this is the sort of place a girl could get lost.
When finally we arrive on the court, the air around us is electric. I’ve seen videos of this place, but now that I’m actually here in person, I can hardly believe it. It’s huge, and I suddenly feel tiny, foreign to it all—like an outsider. What am I doing here?
Our seats are so close to the action, we might as well be directly under the net.
I scan the crowds. The place is crammed, the atmosphere charged.
I already knew basketball games drew in the fans, but this is something else.
The bleachers are packed, teeming with students, camera guys, photographers. The sheer scale of it all is insane.
As the throng thickens, Adam and I continue chatting. He really is such a great guy, and I’m glad he’s here beside me. I’m pretty sure I would’ve just bailed otherwise. There’s something about him that puts me right at ease, and that’s new for me.
Music comes blaring through the speakers, and a gaggle of girls in SHU uniforms come spilling out onto the court.
“Wow. They’re snatched.” I shake my head. “You know, I see all those reels about gym girls and their clean diets, and I think, ‘Fuck my life.’ Then I grab a burger and fries, and I instantly feel better.”
“Lewis was basically born ripped. He was tall as a kid anyway, but then his dad made him start working weekends and school vacations.” Adam shakes his head. “That asshole had biceps before my voice even broke. I was like—how’s that fair?”
“Absolute disgrace, dude.”
“Did you just quote Lewis?” He smiles at me. “It’s official, Carrie. You’re one of us now.”
“I take it back.”
We laugh together. Sure, Adam’s shorter than Lewis—smaller, too. But he’s cute, funny, and kind. What more could a girl ask for? Donovan should’ve been asking Adam for help, not me. He’s basically perfect boyfriend material.
The cheerleaders wrap up, and the ground beneath my feet starts trembling as the crowd stamps in anticipation. My heart skips a beat. This is like the Hunger Games.
Finally, the two teams burst onto the court and trot over to their benches.
Donovan is hard to miss. He’s leading the rest of the pack, and his eyes instantly lock on mine, like he was searching for me, intent on making sure I made it to the game.
He winks at me, before throwing his arms up to greet the crowds.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him in his basketball stuff, but right here, right now, in this exact moment in time, he’s hotter than I’ve ever seen him.
This is all kinds of wrong.
The Cardinals’ bench is right in front of us, and I’m pretty sure that’s exactly why he chose these seats for us.
He grabs a bottle of water, flashing me a smile. “You made it.”
“You’re so observant.”
His eyes trail down to the tops of my thighs. “Did you bring the other half of my lucky charm?”
I have no idea why I decided to wear the panties—but I did.
“Why?” I smirk. “Are you wearing the top?”
“I tried, but I couldn’t breathe.” He glances over his shoulder. “Listen, we can talk lingerie later. I’ve got a game to win. Any last words?”
I think for a beat. I could tease him some more but what slips out is, “Make me proud.”
He thumps his chest twice, nods at Adam, and jogs over to the coach.
The game starts in a flurry of chants, whistles, and squeaks, and I’m tired just watching them. I keep my eyes set on Don, but it’s hard to follow. His energy is boundless, his eyes shining, focused on the ball.
Something stirs inside me. I knew how passionate he is, but seeing it in person is a whole other level.
I’m actually glad I got to see this side of him.
Lewis is different out there under the lights, too.
The knowing smirk is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow, his concentration sharpening as he scores, and the Cardinals already have a twelve-point lead.
It’s an incredible start, and I can’t help but cheer along with the crowd.
Adam gives me a pointed glance and laughs.