Heartache and Hope (Heartache Duet #1) - Jay McLean Page 0,7
above and beyond to help me find my place in this world, to make me feel as comfortable as I could in my own skin. For most of my life, he’d played the part of both parents, which I’m sure comes with a level of difficulty I can’t even imagine. He’d always been there for me. Always. Which I guess is why when he says things like he did last night—things in passing that aren’t meant to offend—it cuts deep.
Deeper than I’ll ever let show.
Anyways, the point is I spent a good year of my life trying everything: baseball, football, soccer, karate, Scouts, sewing. You name it, I was there. But I didn’t love any of them, and nothing stuck. Not until I touched a basketball for the first time when I was ten years old, and something just… clicked.
My coaches said I was a natural-born athlete, which makes sense, I guess, given my genetics.
A lot changed in the years that followed.
The harder I worked on the court; the easier things became off of it. Throw in a growth spurt that didn’t seem to end, and I started to get attention from all over. Girls included. Luckily for me, Dad was always there to remind me of my never-ending list of priorities, and dating… it wasn’t even in the footnotes.
So, with that said, it’s no real surprise that my experience with those of the opposite sex is limited to a few make-out sessions at post-win celebrations. I’d never been in a relationship. Never even dated. And so the aggressiveness of the attention I was suddenly getting was intimidating, to say the least, and uncomfortable as hell. Especially when it’s constant. Like this girl, Karen, who’s somehow managed to find me at my locker every single morning. There’s no doubt she’s cute, in the kind of way that money can buy attractiveness. Perfect make-up to go with her perfect skin and perfect hair and perfect attitude. And I’m sure she’s perfect for a guy who’s just as perfect for her. But for me? I’m not interested in her, at least not in that way, and I sure as hell don’t have the time to try to match that level of perfection. Or the time at all… just ask my dad.
Monday morning. First period. Psychology. And guess who’s in my class?
Karen.
Karen… who’s currently staring at me from across the room. Or maybe she’s looking at the girl next to me; Ava—whose name I worked out through other people because she still won’t talk to me even though she sits next to me every psych class.
She’s a goddamn enigma.
I’ve never seen her outside of this class, not even in the cafeteria. Not that I’ve been looking. Lie. Unless she’s conspicuously making a grab for her phone under the desk, she shows no other signs of life. It’s as if she lives in a bubble, and everyone accepts that.
Sometimes, sitting next to her like we are, I wonder what it would be like to burst that bubble.
“One thing I forgot to mention—” Mr. McCallister’s voice booms, pulling me from my thoughts, “the nature versus nurture paper you’re all going to submit will be done in pairs. You have three seconds to choose your partners.”
Across the room, Karen’s eyes widen and zone in on me. Chairs scrape, students move, and panic fills my bloodline. Instantly—stupidly—I reach for Ava’s arm at the same time she stands. Not a second later, Karen’s in front of us, her gaze switching from me to Ava to my hand on Ava’s arm. Ava’s wide-eyed as she looks up at me, then at Karen, then to our touch. Behind me, a throat clears. It’s Rhys, and he’s looking at all three of us with unmasked confusion.
“Ava,” Karen says, motioning to me. Ava’s shoulders rise with her intake of breath, and she pulls her arm from my grasp. My eyes drift shut, embarrassment heating my cheeks. What the hell was I thinking?
“Ava?” Karen repeats. Firmer. Stronger. There’s a hidden question there, one I can’t decipher.
Rhys asks, “You good, A?” It’s the first time I’ve heard a student speak to Ava this way, as if they care, and I sure as shit didn’t expect it from him.
Ava swallows, nervous, her eyes flitting to mine quickly before moving away. “I’d rather work with Rhys,” she says, so quiet I barely hear her. But I do, and there’s a sudden knot in my gut, a flashback to my past. Awkward, anxious, loner. I bite my