Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,85

I could see the muscle pop from here. He looked the same as before, but never in my life had Walsh seemed so unrecognizable. It was like looking at a totally different person.

Everything stopped. My heartbeat stopped, the pounding in my head stopped, my thoughts came to a terrifying halt. “You did. You planned this fake relationship. You knew it would rile him up, throw him off his game, if he thought that he lost his girlfriend to you. It wasn’t because you wanted to help me. It was just to rub his face in it.” The more I spoke, the louder my voice got. “You came in and declared your love for me—it was all on purpose. It was all part of your plan.”

Scott’s words came back to me in that moment, words that I’d immediately brushed off. He’s only dating you, Sophia, so he can mess with me.

“It’s not that simple,” Walsh told me, drawing in a shallow breath. “I know it seems and sounds like it, Sophie, but it’s—”

I shoved up from the bed in a swift, jerky movement. “It’s Sophia.”

The moment rapidly cracked apart like glass, and I inhaled the broken shards in, cutting my lungs. All the times Walsh asked about Scott came running back to the front of my memory, and everything just clicked. All along, he hadn’t been trying to help me, to keep Scott from being rude to me. No, all along he’d been trying to make Scott jealous. That was why he picked the dog park—he knew Scott played basketball there. That’s why he took me to Ryan’s party. Why he posted pictures of us together.

I stared at his figure in this perpetual state of disbelief, blood pumping so loudly that I could barely focus. My voice sounded strangely normal when I spoke, as if I were unaffected. “This’ll go great in my article.”

Confusion was the first emotion I saw cross over his expression, cracking apart the wariness for a split second. “What?”

“Oh, you know, my article.” Looking down at him still sitting on the bed, I felt my knees begin to shake, my fingers following suit. I clenched them into fists, clamping down on the wave of emotion. “The one I’m writing for the newsletter? This will go nicely between the Royals paying off opposing teams and stealing extracurricular funding. See how perfect people think you are then.”

“Paying off—what? What are you talking about?”

“You never did ask me why I’m writing about baseball.” Anger made my heartbeat loud in my ears, my words nearly drowned out by the sound. “Haven’t you ever heard of undercover journalism, Walsh?”

He just watched me, confusion clear in his features, but not a single hint of anger showing through. Why wasn’t he furious? I was threatening to ruin his reputation—and my own in the process—his carefully threaded rep that he thrived off of. And he was acting as if I were talking about the weather. As if he didn’t care. He gets to upend my life and isn’t the slightest bit bothered—what kind of a robot was he?

Walsh said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sophia.”

Oh, no. He didn’t get to say things like that. Things that made my heart begin to thaw, made the furrow in my brow ease slightly. My lips still tingled from the memory of his, and in that moment, I hated him. I was right about him before, standing in the hallway on the last day of school. He may have a pretty smile and great hair, but everything inside was just selfish, selfish, selfish.

“Right,” I said finally, voice like acid, “because you didn’t think of me at all.”

I woke from this dream where Walsh Hunter was someone I understood, cared for, when in all honesty I had no idea who he was. I was starting to think that I never did. It was strange to think that, just a few minutes earlier, everything had been fine. Normal. I’d come to his house expecting…well, I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Not even remotely close.

“Be on the lookout for the article,” I told him, resting my hand on the doorknob. Walsh saw the tears in my own eyes; I could see the exact moment he discovered them. Walsh looked at me with a gaze so full of pain it was like his heart was the one that was breaking, shattering. As if he were the one whose life was being turned upside down. Just another lie.