Page 47

Laney just stands there quietly, staring at me with round eyes.
Like West said, I’m a fucking warrior now. With his help.
And NoOne’s.
NoOne told me my scar was like war paint.
Maybe they’re onto something. I realize I haven’t thought about NoOne in a while. The truth is, I haven’t needed him.
And I don’t need Laney either. I spin, leaving her there to go find Coach, so I can tell her I won’t be on the bus back to school. I have something important to do—like drooling over West Brooks in a royal-blue jersey.
“Good job today, Kenna,” Coach says when I walk up to her at the side of the pool. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you…did well. We should talk Monday before practice. Come a little early.”
Rabid butterflies that have just escaped from certain death erupt in my stomach. My score was a solid one. Real solid. It must have shocked her. “Sure thing, Coach. I’ll be there.”
“And, um…” She looks away briefly, catching one of our male divers as he leaps from the platform. As soon as he splashes in, she looks back at me. “Are we to thank you for the cheering section today?”
A smile peels my lips apart. “I think so.”
“I liked it,” she says. “I’m sure it was a nice morale boost for everyone.”
“I liked it, too,” I muse, remembering the moment I locked eyes with West. It was his face that drew me in first. His focused, sincere gaze, but then it was difficult not to appreciate the bigger picture. He’s hot enough to eat off of.
Or maybe I’m just hungry.
My phone vibrates, and I take it out to find a text from Sydney.
Be there in 20.
I hope that’s enough time to make it to his game. I pull up the football schedule and Google Map the directions to the opposing team’s field. Luckily, it’s not too far away.
I sit on the sidelines with the rest of my teammates as we watch the guys dive.
After ten minutes, the officials switch the pool over for the swimming portion of the meet, and I take the opportunity to grab my bag and wait out on the curb for Sydney.
When she gets there, we haul ass to the game. After needling me for details about what the football players looked like in their Speedos, I find a couple of videos on Insta—one on the Warner Athletics page—and hold the phone up while she drives. Her eyes widen. “I think West might make any girl extremely happy, so you should probably jump on that.”
I avoid that topic because I haven’t been able to think straight about it since he left.
While I contemplate my life choices, Sydney talks happily about winning the Lip Sync Contest for homecoming. She met with the halftime team today and went over different possibilities with them, so she’s on fire with excitement. I’m on fire for a different reason, but Sydney’s a nice distraction while I sit here with my stomach squeezing from nerves.
As we get closer, cars line the street in the unfamiliar town. “Should I park back here?” Sydney asks, scooching up the driver’s seat like it’ll make her see better.
“I guess.” I peer around, but it looks like street parking only gets worse as it nears the school’s parking lot. All the spaces are probably gone.
“Man, this is crazy.” She quickly pulls to the side behind another car. We’re three blocks from the university. Up ahead, groups of people are walking that way in purple and yellow. When I open my door, two college-aged dudes run past in matching golden shirts. Whistles are going off. Loud cow bells. Thepopof noisy fireworks.
If only diving got this much attention…
I push that thought out of my head as Sydney meets me on the sidewalk, and we make our way with the crowd. A small kid sits atop his dad’s shoulders, his brother asking a bunch of questions.
“How cool is it that Warner comes to play us for our season opener?”
“How many yards do you think Brooks will get?”
“Do you think we’re going to win? I kind of hope Warner wins, but I also kind of hope we win. I don’t know.”
He gets easily distracted with jumping over a crack, and Sydney jabs me with her elbow. “He just talked about your boyfriend.”