Aiden shakes his head.
Porter apologizes again. “I didn’t know. I thought they’d be busy—”
“It’s fine,” I rasp, hearing two different car doors close.
My breathing becomes rapid.
My chest hurts.
Suddenly, Aiden is in front of me taking Porter’s place. “Breathe, Ivy. Out of your head.” When I don’t finish our old pep talk, he grabs both my upper arms and makes me look at him with expressive, encouraging eyes. “Out of your head, Underwood.”
There’s knocking at the front door.
My heart drums.
My skin itches.
I swear the scars left on my arms are laughing at me as the knocks start again.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Ivy,” my best friend says.
I let out a breath. “Head in the game.”
A twig snaps under the weight of my sneaker as I haul the bag over my shoulder and sneak over the property line.
The soft glow of light coming from the bedroom that smells like cinnamon and body spray doesn’t make me smile like normal. Because I know when I lift the window and slip inside, it’ll be for the last time.
Stopping short of his bedroom window, my eyes go behind me to the house I escaped from and observe the black interior. Sometimes Mom gets up in the middle of the night because of insomnia. I’ll see her drinking tea in the kitchen or curled up on the couch when I’m sneaking out, and there have been times I was certain she saw me. But she never said anything, and I never offered any details about my midnight adventures.
Dropping my bag onto the ground, my fingertips dance along the edge of the window and push up the wood. There’s a shake to my arms as I haul myself in and see Aiden already sitting up in bed with a pile of pamphlets covering his bedding.
When I walk over, I pick up one of them to study the university listed. “Are these what you were called into the coach’s office about?”
I drop the one I’m holding and pick up the gold and white paper he’s staring hard at. Wilson Reed University. I’ve heard him talk about this one before. One of his favorite players graduated from there.
His answer comes after a thick sigh. “He thinks I should consider going to Miami. The Hurricanes have had NFL stars come from their teams the past few years. It never fails.”
My face twists as I move some of the pamphlets out of the way to sit down. “You hate the heat. You’d be miserable there. And Dan Williams says that you could make it to the NFL no matter where you go.”
He deadpans at the mention of the sportscaster from our local news station, but he knows that Dan Williams isn’t the only one who’s made that point, even if Williams used to play for a big-time college team before getting injured. He knows the kind of talent my best friend has isn’t something people will overlook because of the college name on his jersey.
Every time Aiden’s college prospects are brought up, it becomes all of Haven Falls’ business because they want to gloat one day about how the great Aiden Griffith once called this town his home. But unlike them, they’ll never be able to say they knew him as well as me.
“What do you think?” I press, passing him back the Wilson Reed information.
“What do you think?”
My eyes don’t lift from the scattered papers covering his red and white plaid comforter. There’s a tear on it from when I tried making a break for it after sleeping in too late. I tripped and grabbed the blanket for support, tearing the material, bolting out the window before his mother knew I was there.
Eventually, I tell him the truth. “It doesn’t matter what I think. This is your life. Your future. Have your parents weighed in? I know their opinions mean a lot to you.”
“Your opinion means a lot too.”
Nibbling the inside of my cheek, I slowly lift my eyes to his. He’s already watching me warily, knowing what I haven’t said. “It’s time, Aiden.”
He shakes his head. “No.”