What happens when the star baseball player hits a home run into the art studio window?
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All Sadie Lane Garner needed to make herself happy was a canvas and paintbrush.
With copious projects due and little studio time, she volunteers to clean t...
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I'VE NEVER GOTTEN ready so fast in my life.
Lucy and Iya had to borrow clothes since we couldn't make it back to their sorority house in time to change. All dolled up and waiting for the guys, we clinked our shot glasses and dumped the cool alcohol into our mouths.
My leg vibrated, and I looked down to see a message from Jayce saying he was here.
"Ready?" I asked the girls, and they nodded, finishing their drinks. I locked up our apartment and hurried downstairs to where a black car waited in front of our building.
The windows of the car were cracked, and music spilled into the empty parking lot. The volume was a dead giveaway that it was our ride.
"Hop in the back!" Jayce shouted over the bass instead of turning it down.
We obliged, climbing in. The smell of body wash and cologne instantly burned my nostrils. I could tell they just showered from their wet hair. My eyes landed on the passenger seat and my heart flopped when I saw Brant, not Elijah. I thought their cars were broken?
"Jayce, Brant." I gathered their attention. "This is Iya and Lucy."
"Nice to meet you, ladies."
Thankfully, my friends played it cool, even though I knew they were freaking out. I've kept my encounters with the team private, mostly, and finally spilled my guts as we were getting ready, promising the girls I had only just met them and wasn't keeping a month-old secret. They seemed wary, like they didn't believe me. They thought I had been in cahoots with the team longer than I'd let on, even though I've been trying to avoid them and doing a piss-poor job.
Recalling the conversation about Elijah being the chauffeur for his roommates, I said, "I see you got your car working! Thanks for picking us up."
"Nah, it's still at the shop. This is Elijah's car and you're welcome."
"Oh." I was thankful they couldn't hear the disappointment in my voice over the music. That explained the cleanliness, but also rattled my brain. I wondered why he wasn't driving his car, assuming he knew I was coming since he was the only person I mentioned a baseball party to.
Why was I upset he didn't pick me up?
Stop.
We weaved through campus, which glowed from street lamps, highlighting the desolate sidewalks. Some lone students walked on foot toward Frat Row. Memories of freshman year flooded my mind of us boycotting coats even though it was cold, then stumbling back to the dorms, drunk off our asses, and freezing—somehow making it home safe.
I smiled, though a bittersweet feeling lingered.
So much has changed since then. Now our senior year was approaching rapidly and I barely had my career or post-graduation plans sorted out. I knew the risk of having an art degree, but I wanted to be happy, not wither away in an office chair.
