Chapter Twenty-Six
Todd
My eyes flutter open, the sun streaming through the window. Taylor’s hair is fanned across the pillow, her thigh hooked over my hip. As if sensing me staring, she wakes up as well, stretching her arms above her head.
“Good morning,” I say, kissing her, and for a moment I think about how this could be us every morning for the rest of our lives.
She smooshes her cheek into the curve of my bicep. “I don’t want to get up.”
I smirk. “It’s only seven a.m.—you could go back to sleep, or we could do something else before class.”
“I’m not going to class today—I promised Emma I’d come up to talk to her.”
I furrow my brow. “You can’t do that after baseball practice like you usually do?”
“I doubt I’ll make it to that either.”
“You really think talking to Emma is going to take all day?”
“I don’t know, it might.”
I purse my lips. “All right, then. I’ll see you later? I can order pizza, and we can watch the game.”
“I don’t know if I’ll make it back tonight either, so don’t wait up for me.”
“But don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”
She pulls away from me. “God, Todd, why are you acting like nothing’s changed? I told you Emma’s pregnant—I can’t just go about my day like it’s a normal Monday.”
“So you’re going to throw away your college career and everything you’ve worked for? What about graduation—and baseball?”
“Emma’s more important now.” She glares, her jaw locking. “And what’s it to you, anyway?”
“I told you—I care about you.”
“And I appreciate it, but it doesn’t change anything.”
I tip my head back with a groan. “Fine, I’ll drop it.”
Without another word, she climbs out of bed and gets dressed, all without ever bringing up what happened between us.
I get up as well and go for a run, my feet pounding against the pavement, but my brain refuses to empty itself even after I clock three miles.
I don’t know why Taylor’s non-reaction bothers me so much. I mean, we started this whole thing with the agreement that things wouldn’t change between us, but the sex was just so intense—at least for me.
Maybe that’s the problem—it wasn’t for her. She said it was okay she didn’t finish, but maybe she just said that so I’d leave her alone. Maybe I really do suck in bed . . . or maybe she’s not attracted to me sexually—maybe I’m doomed to never be more than a friend to her.
That thought alone pushes me to run two more miles. Afterward, I move through the rest of the day in a haze, somehow ending up at basketball practice at the end of it, where my attention is finally captured by something else.
“Who do you think the father is?” Tiffany asks Samantha when I walk past them on my way to the locker room. “You should talk to Todd—if anybody knows anything, it’ll be him.”
“Hey, did you hear about Emma?” Samantha asks, doing just that when I reemerge, ready for practice. “Did Taylor say anything to you when you got home last night?”
My lip curls. I didn’t expect news of Emma’s pregnancy to travel this far south, or for the cheerleaders to get a hold of it, but I guess if there’s one thing that spreads fast in a small town, it’s gossip. “We didn’t really have a chance to talk—it was pretty late,” I reply.
“Hm.”
I scan the hallway, seeing who’s around. “Look, I don’t know any more than you do, but if you want my opinion, I think you should just stay out of it.”
As soon as Samantha opens her mouth again, I duck past her and hurry into the gym, hoping the sharp, elastic snap of sneakers on the parquet will drown out more than just her voice.
Coach already has the team running drills—suicides across the length of the court, followed by defensive shuffles and layup relays.
I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, the five-mile run, or the world spinning at a higher RPM today, but I’m sucking wind before the first water break.
By the time practice ends, my calves are on fire, my shirt is soaked through, and I’m convinced the only reason my heart is still beating is because it’s too stubborn to quit.
I’m sitting on a bench, my head hanging between my legs, when I overhear a conversation coming from the aisle behind me.
“Dude, you better hope it’s not yours,” Cody, a forward, says. “She’ll have you in her back pocket for eighteen years.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Jacob snaps, punching a locker.
Jacob was with Emma? How’d I miss that?
“I bet it’s Tony’s,” Matt chimes in.
This confuses me even more—Tony somehow graduated high school the year after us, likely under the grace of God since he spent more time ditching school than anything else.
“Right—I heard he’s been fucking her for months,” Adam says, offering his two cents as well.
“God, my parents will kill me if it’s mine . . .” Jacob’s voice drifts around the corner again, strained.
I can’t listen to another second of this. My hands are shaking as I jam my towel into my duffel, barely remembering to grab my sneakers, and slam the locker shut hard enough to make the door rattle.
I hit the exit and step into the chilly March twilight hanging over campus.
It’s barely five p.m., but the sky is already bruised and raw, the kind of day where the sun doesn’t so much set as give up.
When I get to my car, I fumble with my keys, the metal biting into my palm, and yank open the door with a little more force than necessary.
I take the long way home, trying to shake off the sick feeling in my gut and delay the inevitable.
As expected, the apartment is empty when I get there, but it’s not the good kind of empty. The air feels weirdly still, like the rooms are holding their breath. I toss my backpack and click on the TV for background noise, but even a comedy feels more depressing than usual.
All I can think about is Taylor and Emma, and the fact that somehow, even though it isn’t my problem, it’s become the only thing I can focus on.