to. Edith, no doubt, was already down at the bay, soaking up the remnants of sunlight and playing some beach volleyball. My texts to her remained unanswered. I wondered if she’d be chatting up Zach or not—I hoped so.
I could’ve texted Walsh, but I doubted that he’d answer either, having to do his errands before going down to the party.
Would tonight be the end of our fake relationship? Would people wonder why we weren’t together? Would they even notice? Scott would. And Walsh—would he say that I was just at home, or would he say that things weren’t working out between us?
The thought of our ruse ending being up made me feel sad in a way. Maybe because I’d lose him as a source for my article. But then again, I did have a pretty good list running: the information I’d found on the school’s site, the team paying off the other players—though I needed just a smidge more proof for that—and Ryan’s parents’ private donations to the baseball fund. With those points, my article was basically done.
Just the idea of letting everything fall apart, staging a public break up, probably never speaking again—none of it sat well with me. My mind went back to when we’d read together in his car and floated along the bay outside his house for hours, just talking. And the way he’d looked at me earlier this morning. All of it was…nice. Really nice. And other than with Edith, I hadn’t had anything really nice with anybody in a while.
It had to end sometime.
The sun began to fall from the sky by the time my movie ended, and I stood up and stretched. Shiba laid on the end of the couch, sound asleep, her stomach facing the ceiling and her paws spread wide. She looked so uncomfortable. I really wanted to reach out and run my fingers along her stomach, but I knew what that would result in: claw marks, yowls, and probably tears on my part. I’ve learned the hard way that Shiba’s sleep isn’t to be messed with.
A loud knock came from the direction of the front door, startling me so badly that I let out a squeak. Shiba jerked awake, immediately shooting me a look. “Sorry,” I told her, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Blame whoever’s at the door.”
I made my way towards the door, wondering who would be stopping by at this hour. Maybe Mom or Dad, having forgotten their keys? When I got close enough, I raised my voice. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” the voice said, pausing. “Scott.”
I jerked away from the door as if I’d been shocked. What the heck was he doing here? Quickly, I reached up and took my glasses off, sending my world into a hazy blur. Then I ran my fingers through my hair, combing out all the knots. After readjusting the blanket, I tugged open the door.
Sure enough, Scott stood on the welcome mat, his sandaled feet covering the E and the C, though the letters were a little blurry. He wore a tank top with little American flags on it, and a red pair of swim trunks.
“I should’ve called,” he said immediately. “I know I should’ve. But I saw that your parents’ cars weren’t home and your lights were on, so I thought I’d come knock.”
I gripped the doorknob, trying to figure out why exactly he was driving past my house in the first place. “Oh. Yeah. I’m here.”
“Why aren’t you down at the bay with your boyfriend?”
“I’m grounded,” I said, and my cheeks felt warm. I couldn’t really pinpoint why. Maybe it was because we were finally alone together again, and it made me feel so uncomfortable. “Why did you stop by, anyway?”
Scott shifted on the mat, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been meaning to call you, catch up. We used to talk a lot, you know? You were a good listener.”
My guard went up fast. He was complimenting me? Something wasn’t right. “We didn’t talk all that much when we were together, you know.”
“Not as much as I would’ve liked,” he agreed. And even though I didn’t have my glasses on, I could tell when Scott’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “I’m sure you and Walsh talk all the time.”
I forced myself to swallow the annoyance that sparked and the urge to shut the door in his face.
“I’m surprised you two are lasting as long as you are.”
“You’re wrong about him,”