SoccerGod2014: He just wants me ready for Friday's game. Messini watching has him a little excited
BeautifulSkye18: Yeah—excited. Whatever
SoccerGod2014: Don't
BeautifulSkye18: Sorry
SoccerGod2014: it's ok.
BeautifulSkye18: Greg's calling me. Brb
SoccerGod2014: I gotta get to bed anyway
BeautifulSkye18: Ok—cya tomorrow
SoccerGod2014: I'll be there
BeautifulSkye18: Gnight
SoccerGod2014: Gnight
I felt a little better as I crawled into bed and let the memory of every touch of our fingers and every kiss from the day roll through my mind. I only watched the day twice before I fell asleep.
Tuesday was a whole different story.
Dad was home as soon as I walked through the door, standing in the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You're not practicing at lunchtime,” he said.
I swallowed and slowly lowered my book bag to the floor.
“There was…uh…”
“Don't you bullshit me.”
I froze, bracing myself.
“You really have a thing for her, don't you?”
I glanced up at his face and was a little confused by his expression. He didn't seem angry—he was more…introspective. I took another breath and took the chance.
Like an idiot.
“Kind of,” I said quietly.
“Do you think your timing could have possibly been worse?” He hissed out the last few words, dropped his hands to his sides, and balled them into fists.
Shit.
“She's not hurting my game,” I tried to tell him.
“Not taking the chance,” he replied. “You're done with her.”
Done with her.
Done with Nicole.
My Rumple.