“I’ve been sleeping like shit,” I admit. “Seemed like drinking a few extra cups could keep me alert for the game, although, with the way they’re playing, that hasn’t been an issue.”
We both look at the guys running into the field house. I spot Emory with his helmet off. He catches my eye and waves. I wave back.
So does Sydney. “Your brother is so hot.”
I grimace. “Shut up.”
“Facts are facts.” She shrugs. “Hey, do you think he’d go out with me now that Campbell is gone?”
The other team has a better chance of winning this game.
“You know he’s hung up on Campbell,” I say, shooting Sydney a sidelong glance. “I feel sorry for anyone he hooks up with while they’re still attached.”
“If that’s your way of warning me off of being Emory’s rebound, you’re doing a bad job of it.” Her eyes skim the rest of the guys as they trickle into the building. She nods at number 32. “Although he certainly grew up well.”
“What?” I squint, trying to figure out, “Who?”
Right at that moment, the player takes off his helmet, revealing a sweaty head of hair and a hard-edged face that makes my stomach dip.
“Reyn,” she says, “he’s freaking gorgeous.”
This is why I like Sydney. She doesn’t apologize for saying what she thinks, and she doesn’t treat me like I’m so fragile that one mention of Reynolds McAllister will shatter me.
Of course, it’s true. If the Reynolds I knew at age thirteen was cute, then this new, harder version of him is something way too intense for such a juvenile descriptor. He’s grown into his arms and legs, that sharpened face no longer bearing the blemishes or rosy cheeks of an adolescence that hadn’t even been awkward for him. I can see from here that his arms and thighs are firm and sculpted, and he moves with a graceful, easy power that some of the other guys lack.
Just as I’m watching him, his green eyes pass over us, only to skitter back, gaze locking onto mine for a tense moment as he walks leisurely toward the field house. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until he finally breaks my gaze, letting his head hang as he jogs the rest of the way.
I exhale in a rush. “I guess it’s not a surprise. He’s always been cute.”
She nods, concern flickering in her eyes when she looks at me. “So, what’s it been like? With Reyn being back and everything?”
This is another thing no one else would ask me. Sure, my mom and dad and Dr. Cordell want to know my feelings about everything, but this usually involves a long, in-depth analysis that leaves me feeling exhausted and vaguely like a specimen who’s been placed beneath a microscope. Sydney, however, just wants to know what’s happening. Talking to her never feels like a minefield.
“Once I got over the fact my parents kept it a secret from me, it’s been... okay.” I decide not to tell her about the yard—the cat and the lipstick and the obsidian. Something about it feels fragile and private, like it’s a burden for me and Reynolds to carry alone. “I mean, it’s weird seeing him on campus, but I’m pretty sure he’s, like, avoiding me?” I glance at Sydney, unsure. “So, I don’t really have to deal with him.”
The truth is that I’m trying not to let him eat up so much headspace, but it’s hard. He’s suddenly everywhere. Loping casually down the hallway at school. Hunched over his lunch in the cafeteria, his forearm curled almost protectively around his tray. Here, on the football field with Emory. Standing like a statue on his porch, visible from the window overlooking the kitchen sink. And speaking of windows—also in the bedroom that looks right into my own. It doesn’t help that his return coincides with my reduction in meds or the fact that the nightmares are back. His little glowing bedroom light is now the first thing I see when I wake up.
Okay.
Maybe I am letting him occupy a little headspace.
Sydney nods. “I think it’s cool you’re not letting him drag you down, you know? Preston Prep is your territory. The school obviously only let him come back because they needed him on the football team.”
I shift uncomfortably at the thought of us being adversarial. Is that how other people see it? Is that how Reynolds sees it?
“Well, Emory’s happy to have him back. You know he lost a lot