Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,8
storm out of there, with Coach on her heels. The look on his face as he watched her leave.
There is something there, and for some reason, I can’t let it go.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, irritated with myself. This is the last thing I should be thinking about. The Ravens are just a few days away from playing in the college championship game, something that slipped through our fingers last year. I should be concentrating on that, not on the fact that my coach might or might not be fucking one of my classmates.
Fuck, just thinking about it makes my stomach turn.
“What is all this about?” Hayden asks after a while.
I shake my head, forcing myself to snap out of it. “Nothing.”
“You sure?”
I start to nod, but just then, Coach turns toward us.
“Cole! Watson! This isn’t a coffee shop; get your asses on the field.”
Crumpling the plastic bottle that was forgotten in my hand, I throw it into the recycle bin. Hayden does the same, and together we run to the field, all thoughts except getting the ball into the end zone pushed out of my mind.
Chapter Five
YASMIN
“You can’t not go,” Callie says firmly, crossing her arms over her chest, a determined look on her face.
“I most certainly can.” And just to prove my point, I slide a strand of hair behind my ear and turn my attention back to the book that’s sitting on my desk. The semester has barely begun, but there is no such thing as too early to start on the coursework. So that’s exactly what I’m planning to do. That is until Callie stomps toward me and pulls the book out of my hands.
“¡Oye! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I try to grab it, but Callie is faster.
“Just getting back at you for all the shit you pulled on me last semester.”
“I don’t remember asking you to do anything.”
“You didn’t ask and now payback’s a bitch,” Callie says with a sugary sweet smile plastered on her face.
“Díos,” I huff. “I hate you.”
Callie grins, knowing she’s won. “I love that you speak Spanish when you’re pissed off. Why don’t you do it more often?”
Knowing there is no way she’ll let it go and preferring it to the other subject she wants to discuss, I sigh and lean into my chair.
“I’m not sure. My mom’s Mexican, and I grew up in a house where we spoke Spanish, but outside…” I shrug, letting the words hang in the air.
The truth is, I’ve never been ashamed of who I am or where I come from. I’m the person I am today, thanks to my mother and all she sacrificed to help me get here. But there has always been this other part of me that felt like a fake. Yes, my mother is Mexican, but my sperm donor is white. I’m a mix between the two; too white to be full Latina, but too dark to be white. And it’s not even just about the color of my skin. While most Latin Americans are on the shorter and curvier side, I took after my father, reaching around five foot seven. And while I do have curves, I’m not as curvy as some of the other Hispanic girls that lived in my old neighborhood.
My mom came to the States when she was relatively young, but being Mexican, she had a hard time fitting in. Even now, her accent is still thick, and although she never said it out loud, I know she’s felt the stigma of her origin hanging above her head all these years. She didn’t want that destiny for me. She wanted me to have a better life, but that better life only accentuated the differences I felt between my peers and me. And that’s not including the fact that my Catholic mother raised me all on her own, never marrying.
“It’s a long story,” I finally finish, snapping out of my thoughts.
A soft, knowing smile curls her lips. Only a few months ago, Callie wouldn’t even bother asking the question since she has had her fair share of secrets, but since then, she’s worked through some of her demons.
Callie lays her hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. Our gazes meet, understanding passing between us. “When you’re ready,” she whispers gently, then she shoves me. “Now get your ass out of this chair. Chloe will be here soon to pick us up.”