Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- 2 Months Later
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Kasie West
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
DJ wasn’t a very good liar. “Is Coach going to let me swim it on Friday? Is that what it’s about?”
“No . . . I mean, I’m not sure. But that’s not what these are.” He clutched the papers tighter as if I had X-ray vision and could see through them.
“What are they, then?”
“Hadley, stop. I know you think your persistence is charming, but it can be frustrating at times.”
I gripped the top of my towel, glad to know every guy in the universe found my determination off-putting. My eyes stung with the insult.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said.
“No. You didn’t.” I moved to walk around him and he stepped in front of me.
“Hadley. I’m sorry. You are every coach’s dream. Persistence is key to what you do.”
“DJ, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. See you around.”
“Hadley,” he said, but I was already through the door to the girls’ locker room, glad he couldn’t follow me in there.
Nine
Amelia was late. It was 6:35. She was supposed to pick me up at 6:30. I sat at the counter in the kitchen, more dressed up than I’d been in a while. My hair was up in a bun, I wore the black dress that Amelia swore wasn’t too tight, and I was even wearing heels. If she didn’t get here soon, we were going to miss him. Tension had spread up from my shoulders and was beginning to settle in my neck.
I tapped the edge of my art show ticket on the counter several times. I checked my phone. It was 6:37 and there were no missed calls or texts from Amelia. I tried to call her again. She didn’t answer. Ugh. Why didn’t I have a car? Sometimes it sucked depending on others for transportation.
I knocked on my dad’s bedroom door and opened it when he gave a muffled reply. “Hey, Dad. Can I borrow your truck?”
He was lying in bed reading a book, which he lowered to look at me. “I thought Amelia was picking you up.”
“She’s late.”
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “Eight minutes late?”
“I need to be at the museum by seven.”
“It’s an open house–type thing. There’s a three-hour window to see all the pieces. You probably won’t need the whole three hours. Especially because I didn’t think you enjoyed looking at art.”