I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,77

or me. Then again, I hadn’t thought about sports since June twenty-eighth.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Bouncing basketballs sounded like a thunderstorm—with whistles shrieking, tennis shoes squeaking against the gym floor, and a whole ton of yelling. The smell of sweat filled the room, but someone had propped open the double doors so fresh air circulated through, along with the sound of dance music being played somewhere down the hall.

I’d gone to the bathroom and saw some of the dance team practicing a routine near my locker.

There were a lot of students out and about in the school, but I was one of the only audience members for basketball practice. The coach came in, saw me, and started to protest. I saw how his shoulders tensed, and he scowled, but Ryan ran over, with Nick and another guy hot on his heels. They talked to their coach and after a bit, his shoulders relaxed and the scowl flattened to a firm line of disapproval. He said something to Ryan, who nodded and ran back to his place for drills.

I went back to my homework, not making a peep, and finally practice ended.

The guys stayed around for a scrimmage game, and I sat and marveled at how damn good Ryan was. He’d been the first to finish the drills. He’d given the calls.

I mean, I could be biased, but he seemed to be the best at shooting, and he worked the hardest.

Wachowitz, on the other hand, was dragging. He’d been lagging behind half the team since the middle of practice. He missed a pass, and after he missed another, one of his teammates yelled for him to tag out.

He did just that, and the game kept going.

“Can I sit?”

I turned, surprised that I hadn’t noticed anyone coming up the bleachers, and saw Cora pointing to the seat beneath me.

I nodded. “Sure.” I moved down a little, giving her some space.

She sat, straddling the bench so one foot was next to mine and the other was below her. She watched the court. “I always forget how good Ryan is until I see him.”

“Really?”

She nodded, her gaze solemn.

We watched the game for a moment. Ryan’s teammates cut across the gym, and he passed to one of them. The toss was so fast that the ball was in his teammate’s hands before he blinked.

She sighed. “Just get ready. It’s about to be insane, especially with you being Ryan’s girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked to me, almost reluctantly pulling her gaze from the court. “Ryan’s nice and humble, not arrogant. People forget how good he is until the season starts. But they remember real quick. Friday night, after our first game, it’s going to be insane. Girls will be throwing themselves at him nonstop.”

Lovely. Willow had slowly stopped talking to me over the last two months, but I might have to pull out some of my inner Willow for this. Bitches might have to go down.

And as soon as I thought that, I was tired.

I was tired of the fighting, tired of the cattiness, tired of the way some girls seemed to hate each other just because.

“Don’t you get sick of it all?”

“What?” Cora frowned at me.

I glanced over and saw that she wasn’t the only one who’d come into the gymnasium once practice ended. A whole bunch of others had congregated beside the bleachers. Erin, her friends, Peach, some of the popular senior girls. There were guys with them too—half were talking to the girls, and the others shouldered past the group to sit on the first row of the bleachers.

I gestured to the group forming. “What you were saying—all the girls, all the fighting.”

She stared at them and raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t really get an option, you know?” She turned back. “I feel like I have to fight just to have my friends notice me.”

“Not Kirk.”

She threw me a look, half rolling her eyes. “He noticed me because you told me not to give a shit. I didn’t, and he came right over, but it hasn’t been like that since. I give a shit. I don’t know how not to. I’m not at the top of the food chain. I mean, look at him.” She gestured to Kirk, who had his arm around Erin. His face was bent toward her neck, like he was nuzzling her, and she laughed. “He flirts with everyone, makes out with everyone—”

“Not when you’re around.”

She gave me another one of those “are you serious” looks. “I’m around right