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The phone in his hand goes off again, and he throws it into the interior of his Hulk truck then climbs behind the wheel. He cranks the engine, closes the door, and puts it in gear before looking up.
Our gazes connect, and I feel the same familiarity ricochet through me. I hold myself tighter, my feet stuck to the ground as if the sidewalk were quicksand.
This is not how I imagined this morning going down.
I woke up so at peace. So happy.
As soon as West sees me, he climbs back out of his truck, leaving it idling in the driveway, then strides toward me. His long, tree-trunk legs eat up the space between us until he’s standing like a giant in front of me. Carefully taking my chin, he angles my face to meet his anguished green eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kenna. I have to go. I’ll text you as soon as I can.”
He drops his stare to my lips, and just as quickly, his mouth is on mine. My lids flutter closed. His kiss is urgent, but it’s still soft and reassuring. It’s everything I know West Brooks to be. My hands unravel, and I push up to my tiptoes to return his kiss.
Too soon, he steps away. “I’ll text you. I promise,” he states, then gets back into his truck, and reverses out of the driveway.
Soon, his black truck turns the corner and is out of sight.
I don’t know what the hell just happened.
I replay everything in my head, wondering if I should’ve pushed for answers or made sure he was okay before letting him drive off. He was obviously distracted and angry.
Fucking Hamilton.
His dad, too, whatever that’s about.
Turning, I head back inside to find Sydney peering down the hallway at me, wearing a concerned expression. “Is he okay?”
I close the door, shrugging. “I guess. I don’t even know what’s going on.”
“Oh, Kenna. It’s bad.” She grimaces, looking slightly uncomfortable. “At least, the media is going nuts with it.”
“Going nuts about what?”
“West’s dad. He’s hooked up with Hamilton and is talking major shit about West.”
My first inclination is to laugh—from the sheer ridiculousness of it, but also how seriously people take this homecoming game. I’m surprised Hamilton has been quiet up until now.
“His dad is on TV and everything.”
I bite my lip. West mentioned he had issues with him, but from what he’s told me, he hasn’t spoken to his dad since he basically escaped to Warner, aside from him showing up at the game. What’s his deal now? Why would he do this?
As I stand there and take all the information in, Sydney walks up to me. “Where did West go, hon?”
I shrug. “To see his coach, I think. He didn’t say much. He just got mad and left.”
She breathes in deep. “I’m sure Coach Thompson will know what to do. He’ll squash this before any big media gets it. How freaking low is it to bring someone’s personal life into a sport?”
“What are they saying?” In my head, I can’t imagine anyone having anything negative to say about West. I don’t even like football players, and he’s managed to get me to not just like him but fall for him.
She links her elbow through mine and guides me into her room. A TV sits on her desk in the corner. Sydney hates doing work at a desk. She’s either on her bed or the floor or the hot-pink beanbag chair she has. If my room is an ode to diving and 5SOS, Sydney’s room is an ode to bubblegum pink. The hot-pink pom-poms we bought to cheer her on for her homecoming set sit just to the side. On the screen, a local news station is on, the same video playing again and again over the reporter’s left shoulder. The headline reads “Warner Stud a…Dud?”
I gasp. “What the…”
“It’s hard to watch.” Sydney grimaces, staring at the video of Hamilton players lined up with West’s dad. They keep egging him on to say more and more about West. And all of it sounds awful.
“This isn’t news,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. “This is West’s dad being a dick. Why are they even giving this airtime?”
“If it bleeds, it leads, and we all know West is the golden boy right now.”
“They’re just trying to get everyone to pay more attention to the game,” I seethe, gesturing wildly at the TV. “West’s real fans will understand this is bullshit.” Bullying tactics, feuds, and rivalries. “Can’t they just play the game and shut up? West is going to wipe the floor with them.”