The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,25

leaned back, eyeing her. “Why are you dressed like Batgirl?” He held out his cup. “Have some.”

“I can’t. I’m driving.”

“Damn right. You’re driving me crazy.” He was kind of adorable, all messy and grinning. Loopy and goofy was way better than serious and romantic.

By the middle of the third quarter, the Rockhounds were winning and Ria was tired of sitting. Somehow, right beside her, Sean had gone from affectionately buzzed to sloppy wasted. His eyes were little more than slits, but his grin was wide.

“Let’s get out of here.” She ran her finger along his arm.

“The game’s not over. Is it?” He stared out at the scoreboard.

“Does that matter?”

Around her, the divers exploded with groans. “Can you believe him?” yelled Maggie, laughing. “What do you think a Drumstick Chorus looks like?”

“It sure as hell doesn’t mean fried chicken,” answered Temo. “And I guarantee the Biscuit Beaters will leave us flat.”

“We’re so gonna be hurting!” Maggie whined.

It was obvious that Benny had sent one of his infamous group texts, letting them know the plan for practice. So typical for him to have tricked them into thinking they had the night off, then hitting them with a warning for what the next day would be like. To keep them focused. Remembering they still belonged to him.

When she checked her own phone, it was blank. Her cheeks flushed hot and red and her eyes stung. Out on the field, a football player ran, all alone, with a trail of other players straggling behind him, slowing and giving up before he crossed the end zone. Around her, everyone stood to cheer.

“Some of us are going to get food,” said Maggie, grabbing her arm.

“Fried chicken?”

“Maybe. I was thinking I’d do a carb-o-load of fries and biscuits.”

“Tough workout tomorrow?”

“Always. You know how it is.”

She thought she’d known, but it felt too long ago to be certain.

“You could come with us.”

Ria looked at Sean, glassy-eyed and swaying on the bleacher seat. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t belong with the team anymore, but she gestured toward him and said, “I can’t.”

It was painfully true, for plenty of reasons. Mostly because there was no doubt Benny would find out if she went, and she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be a part of their team bonding. Someone would say something, a picture would be taken—there wasn’t any question as to if; only the specifics of how were uncertain. Besides, she barely knew her old team anymore.

As she watched Maggie swish down the steps, she pressed her legs firmly against the bleachers to keep herself from running off to follow. She focused her breathing, imagined her body growing roots, planting herself into this spot. She let herself blend in with the strangers around her, talking, laughing, staring, eating, being. She was only one small part of a bigger picture, a smudge of black within the swirl of colors.

Thirteen

Sean was the drunkest Ria had ever seen. Not only the drunkest Sean, but the drunkest anyone. Talking to him made her feel like she was dealing with someone with multiple personalities. Or all the personalities were Sean, but at different ages. It was like reasoning with a three-year-old Sean who had ten-year-old Sean’s sense of humor while seventeen-year-old Sean groped her butt and old-man Sean wobbled and teetered, completely off balance.

“Stay with me, Ria. You wouldn’t leave me, would you?”

His question annoyed her, seeing as she was obviously here, holding him up. Charlie and Tony were the ones who’d left him behind. She was alone trying to get him to her car.

Drunk Sean was heavy, with no sense of direction. When he started weaving and wandering, crashing into people as they left the stadium, Ria threw her arm around his waist and braced her leg against his. Instead of keeping him moving in a straight line, the reinforcement made him crumple. He leaned on her as if his skeleton had turned soft and rubbery. At this particular moment, it was hard to believe he was any kind of athlete. Or someone who could speak without spitting.

“You know I love you. Right? Don’t you? Do you know that I love you?”

That was such a weird way to say it. Like it was all on her somehow to get right or wrong. Heading along the sidewalk and seeing the security guards ahead, she said, “Walk.”

Behind her, she heard a familiar clipped voice. Almost monotone, but with its own distinctive rhythm. She looked over her shoulder and finally, with a huge surge of