Page 18 of What We Knew Then
“Right. Freddy.” It’s amazing how bored he sounds. “I bet he shows.”
“You have a crystal ball I don’t know about?”
“You didn’t see how he looked at me? Only thought I existed once I put my arm around you. He was jealous. He knows I’m here. Therefore, he will be here.” Lane says this all matter of fact. He doesn’t look at me when he talks, just takes in the scene around us instead.
I sigh, wishing I had a drink in my hand. “He wasn’t jealous.” I don’t know why I lie. Freddy was practically seething and I loved it. Maybe my pettiness is showing but he ruined my summer, and if I could annoy him for an afternoon, it’s worth it.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he scoffs, his voice pointed and landing like a jab.
My jaw tightens. “You’re so charming, you know that?”
He finally looks at me with his head tilted, like he’s sizing me up and finds the whole thing amusing. “Didn’t realize you needed me to be.”
“I don’t.” I cross my arms, glaring at the stage where the freshmen are butchering a Backstreet Boys song. “I was just making an observation.”
“Funny. I was doing the same.” Lane takes another deliberately slow sip. “The only difference is mine was accurate.”
I snap my head toward him. “You don’t even know me.” The cliche of the words ring and I wish I would’ve said something else.
His eyes flick over me once, sharp and unbothered. “I know enough.”
That stings more than it should. “And what exactly do you think you know?”
He smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That you like the attention. From me. From Freddy. Anything to make you feel something, right?”
The words hit, but I won’t let him see that. “Wow. You’re just full of unsolicited psychoanalysis, huh? What are you—team transfer or team therapist?”
“Just know trouble when I see it.” Lane’s voice is flat and borderline uninterested.
I huff a laugh, leaning in closer just to get under his skin. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you. And I think between the two of us, one has been in much more trouble than the other.”
For the first time, his smirk falters, jaw ticking like I hit a nerve. Then he shakes his head and looks back toward the crowd, dismissing me.
I can’t stand how much I want his attention.
Chapter 11
LANE
Ishouldbehavinga better time. A bonfire roars in the center of the clearing, sparks snapping into the night as smoke curls sweet and acrid in my lungs. Music blasts from dented speakers that someone dragged out here, karaoke cutting in every thirty minutes, clashing with shouts and laughter. Red cups are everywhere. People are dancing, crowding the flames.
It should feel like freedom. Like the perfect end to summer.
Instead, it feels like hell.
Because every time I look across the fire, I seeher.
Cora’s perched on a log, laughing too easily at something one of the guys says. I tell myself I don’t care. That I don’t notice. My chest tightens anyway, and I hate it. I hate how my eyes find her even when I try not to.
I need to shake this off. Move on. Find something else, anything else, to worry about.
Leo shows up like he knows I need him and introduces me to a few football players. It’s surprising when they just wave me in, like I belong.
No one asks about the accident, and no one acts like I'm something they stepped in. Thank fuck.
It’s not that I can’t handle it—believe me, I've been through my fair share of public opinion. I knew the decision I made that night would follow me around, and it sucks, but I still stand by it.
There’s this moment of relief, where I’m not clenching my jaw for the first time tonight, that I feel like a normal college athlete. We’re talking about the woes of practice during the season and some of the footballguys tell me about their traditions. I can’t help but wonder what it is about otters that made them all lean in so hard.
