Going Long (Waiting on the Sidelines #2)(18)

Sarah was talking softly now. In an instant, I became a scared child, fragile and broken. She pulled me into her arms and cradled me, stroking my hair back behind my ears and holding my head to her shoulder. We stayed like that for several minutes, light sobs coming from me unexpectedly, and each time Sarah just squeezed me tighter and whispered softly in my ear. “Shhhhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t, but also knowing that those were the only words she could say right now.

Over the next hour, Sarah helped get me in the shower while she discarded my clothes and changed my bed sheets. I lay awake with my head resting in her lap until the sun started to brighten my curtains. Sarah didn’t sleep either, but instead sat awake with me, just stroking my hair and whispering whatever I needed to hear in my ear. When my alarm clicked on at 6 a.m., the time I usually got up to head to the gym, I reached over and slapped it off.

I rolled my head to look up at Sarah through my puffy eyes. She was a mirror of me. “I have to go see Reed,” I was matter-of-fact. “He’s the only one that can make this okay.”

I started to cry again a little, but sucked back the tears long enough to push myself up from the bed and walk to my dresser.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sarah said, her voice careful and full of caution.

I just looked down into my open drawer and stared endlessly at my socks and running shorts and sports bras. My drawer was full of youth. Isn’t this what I wanted? We weren’t ready for this. But…this way? The guilt was pounding away at my heart, and each time it did, I fought to not break down in tears again.

“I need to see him. I just do,” I said to Sarah, turning and shaking my head, biting my lip a little to help hold myself together.

“I get it,” she said, standing and bending to pick up my running shoes to hand them to me. “Let me help you get ready.”

Sarah walked me all the way to my car and offered several times to drive me. But I didn’t want her there for any of this. I didn’t know how long it would take to be brave enough to tell Reed everything. There was a chance I would stay parked in the middle of the desert for hours before heading the rest of the way to his house.

I drove extra slow. In fact, I was a little surprised when a cop parked on the side of the main highway just let me pass without an inquisition; I was sure I was going at least 15 miles under the speed limit. I powered through my doubts and pushed myself to drive all the way to Reed’s house without stopping. I noticed the additional giant, lifted four-wheel-drive pick up parked right in front of the main entrance. The license plate read J-DAWG, confirming my suspicion that Jason was still staying at the house.

Somehow, I managed to park and get to my feet. I walked up to the front door three times, turning away with each approach to head back to my car. My fourth attempt was successful and I rang the bell. I didn’t hear anyone stirring for the first several seconds, so I pressed my face to the obscured glass insert in the door. Finally, I saw some movement coming towards me. When it cracked open, I was met with the last face I expected to see. Dylan was standing there in a gray T-shirt, Reed’s T-shirt, and nothing else. Her hair was messy, and her face was smeared with last-night’s makeup.

“Can I help you?” she said with a bit of a southern accent.

“I…uh…I need to talk to Reed?” I was questioning myself, like I had no right to be there. I was so thrown by her presence and her lack of familiarity with me—even though we’d met just a few days ago. “I’m Nolan?”

I felt stupid and out of place, instantly. It was the first time I’d felt that way in months.

“Oh, right. Nolan,” she said with a faint smile. I couldn’t tell if it was smugness or politeness, but something told me it was the former. I was trying to look inside the house over her shoulder when she leaned sideways to move her eyes in front of mine. “He’s still sleeping.”

She just stopped short there, waiting for me to either continue to act the part of the * or get what was going on.

“We had a late night,” she offered more, biting her lip a little like she was both proud and ashamed at once. And that was enough. She was here because of Reed, wearing his shirt. And I was pretty sure that smile was arrogance and not friendly in the least. “Want me to tell him you stopped by?” she said, feigning manners now.

My heart was pounding with anger, and I was forming fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms to try to stave off slapping her. “No need. Thank you very much,” I said, turning and marching back to my car, like a kid who was angry he didn’t get picked on a dodge ball team.

I heard the front door close behind me as I opened my car door. I quickly got in and drove all the way back to campus. I was completely numb, not able to feel, and I couldn’t recall whether or not I stopped at a single stoplight or what exit I took from the freeway. But somehow, somehow I’d made it to my parking lot at school. I leapt up the stairs to my dorm room and threw my running clothes on. I was so angry, and my rage was directed at everyone. I picked up my phone and typed out a text to Reed.



So much for never.



I paced my room, debating writing more, but ultimately decided to leave it short and sweet. My emotions weren’t right, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry or scream obscenities and punch something. If I didn’t do something to center myself, I was going to get into trouble. I grabbed my gym bag and threw my phone, wallet, towel and iPod inside.