29. ARAN

CHAPTER 29

ARAN

I climb up the stairs slowly, one by one, just going through the motions.

That's how the entire week has been through school and practice. I've managed to go to class, take notes, sit exams, and even ace my essays. And if Coach has noticed something weird, he's had too much on his plate to even look my way, what with Jamal being down with a wrist injury and a first line that doesn't work so great anymore.

Why does doing the right thing and being honest feel so shitty?

Because I went to that party last week with the sole intention of taking Maddie aside and telling her… I don't know. All the words went up in smoke the moment I saw her sitting in the living room. But I intended to hit the brakes on the book research and stay friends.

We're not even that now. She won't answer my texts. She canceled our official tutoring sessions. The one time I ran into her here, on the apartment stairs, she nearly tripped in her haste to run from me.

And I can't stop thinking about it. I'm out there catching pucks during practice by rote, my mind churning her words over and over. I'll be calculating cashflow and remembering something we did before.

There's a before and an after. Huh.

"Rodriguez."

I lift my head. Ryan stands at the top of the stairs, a garbage bag sitting at her feet. Her arms are folded and her expression gives no warm fuzzies.

I blink slowly, frankly about to pass out from exhaustion. And I sound like it when I say, "Avery."

"We need to talk."

"Later, I'm tired," I mumble and drag my feet for the last of the climb. I walk past her for my door, and it takes me two tries to jam the key in the hole.

My plan is to order pizza and watch film from our opponents until I can't keep myself upright anymore, but I don't know if I'll even make it to dinner. At the rate I'm going, I'll drop dead asleep the second I hit the couch.

And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. That way I don't have to think about how she's at her sister's wedding tonight, sans plus-one. I texted her several times, asking if she still wanted me to back her up, but since she left me on read, I assumed the answer was a big hell no.

I drop my duffel bag onto the living room floor and dump my stick on top. Leaning against the wall, I toe out of my sneakers and leave them there. Slowly, I lower myself onto the couch and rest my elbows on my knees. I try to rub the bleariness out of my face, but it's bone deep. As if I completed years' worth of practice this afternoon alone.

Of course, Ryan doesn't let me be. She makes her way into my apartment, sets her trash bag down on my floor, and makes herself comfortable on my couch.

"What did you do to Maddie?"

I draw in a deep breath and let it out before speaking. "Why do you think I did something?"

"Because now, if anyone so much as mentions your name, she looks like she's about to cry or puke or both."

I flinch, and there's no hiding it. Even then, I say nothing.

"Listen carefully, Aran. I like you, but I like Maddie more. If you hurt her, I will end you."

I glare at her. "You know damn well I'm not in the business of assaulting women."

"No, but you sure have a talent for hurting them here." She taps her chest repeatedly. "And I warned you, didn't I?"

She did, weeks ago, when she caught me walking out of Maddie's room to head to practice while she kept sleeping off her period pain. Ryan was sitting by the kitchen counter, munching on baby carrots with so much violence I suspected she was pretending they were my head.

"What's the deal between you and Maddie?" she asked point blank.

"Nothing." My response was a total lie, and we both knew it.

"That in there didn't look like nothing. It looked like some real boyfriend shit."

I remember rolling my eyes and saying, "We're just friends. Friends give a shit about each other, right?"

"Does that mean you'll cuddle Archie if he's hurting somewhere?"

I snorted. "Archie can go cuddle himself."

"Exactly. You could've ignored Maddie like you do with everyone else, but here you are. So don't give me that bullshit, son." She got up from her seat and walked over to poke my chest hard. "And if you so much as hurt a hair on her head, I'll come for you."

So here we are. I guess this is Ryan's version of coming for me.

"She won't talk, so you tell me what happened."

I scoot forward and rest my head back. Drawling, I say, "If she doesn't want to share, why should I?"

"So I can gauge what kind of bodily harm I will do to you. If I have to serve time, I want it to be fair."

"Ryan, I'm really not in the mood for this." Or for anything, really. I toss an arm over my face, wishing her away.

Softly, she asks, "Why did she go to her sister's wedding on her own when you were supposed to take her?"

The only sounds filling up the living room come from our breathing, mine heavier. Unless she can hear how loud my heart is thumping.

"Shit." I snarl the word and sit back up. Rubbing my head, I add, "Double shit."

"Spill."

"She said she's in love with me."

Ryan draws in air through her teeth. "Oh, Maddie."

"And on a scale of one to ten, I was a jerk about it."

"Of course you were."

I glare at her, but the person I really want to punch is me. "You know I can't do relationships, Ryan. I'm just not that kind of guy. I've spent the whole week trying to do damage control so no word about what happened at that party with Maddie gets to Coach's ears. If it does, he's going to bench my ass. And I'm so damn spent, all I want is to be left alone until the next game. Are you happy now?"

"No, you fool. Of course I'm not happy." She throws her hands in the air. "I just wish you hadn't treated her like you cared more than you did."

Through gritted teeth, I say, "I care. As her friend."

"You're pathetic." Ryan shoots to her feet and marches over to the entrance, picking up her trash bag before she opens the door. She turns around for a moment. "You're letting the best girl you'll ever meet go because you care more about what your coach thinks than about your own damn feelings. I hope it's worth it."

She slams the door shut so hard the walls rattle.

"What the hell do you know about my feelings?" I shout too late. She's probably climbing down the stairs by now.

I'm left breathing hard, like a horse that tried really hard at a race and still lost it.

A burst of energy propels me to my feet, and I pace the length of the living room back and forth. Before I make a canal on the floor, I go to the kitchen and start taking ingredients out of the fridge and the pantry. Forget the pizza. I need to move my body. That's the best way to shut down my brain. I'll make arepa con pernil and pico de gallo from scratch. I will?—

No, that reminds me of her. This is what we ate the night she hit her head. Well, I did. She doesn't eat meat because of freaking course. She's too good to even hurt a fly. And I hurt her. And I don't want her out of my life.

I rest my arms on the kitchen island, just breathing deep and thinking.

Ryan's wrong. It's not that I care about what Coach says just because. We're in the middle of regionals now. Missing two games—hell, missing a single game—could mean we lose. Or let's say Edwards doesn't mess up the first two games by some miracle and I get to play the semi-final and final. Recruiters would think he did the work for me.

But I miss her. So damn much. I want to just… be in the same place without her running. I want to at least be her friend. Which is what we should've been, but I had to go and be a horndog.

"I need to talk with her," I mumble to myself.

That'd be a good first step. If I explain myself better, maybe she'll be less hurt. She'll definitely see that she didn't do anything wrong, and it's entirely a me issue caused by my past shenanigans. And that if things were different…

I shake my head. No, I can't go down that road with her. What-ifs don't change this situation. We're still graduating and parting ways soon.

Besides, I shouldn't have assumed she didn't want me at the wedding. Especially not after she shared how gross some of her family members are to her. Like I told Ryan, friends give a shit about their friends, and I shouldn't leave Maddie to the vultures. At least not the full night. I already missed the actual ceremony and at least a couple of hours of the party, but I can still salvage this.

I start putting everything away. Instead of cooking, I quickly down a protein shake from a carton. Once I'm done, I take off my sweatshirt and head into my room. The tie and handkerchief that perfectly match the shade of her dress are neatly folded in my closet. I retrieve them, along with one of the suits I wear after games and put them on the bed.

I pick up my auditing textbook from the floor and spread it open on the page where I jammed the wedding invite. I drop it on top of the suit and quickly strip off my sweats. It will take maybe fifteen minutes to get dressed and into my car, then just under an hour to make it to the farm where the wedding's being held. Should be plenty of time to think about what to say and how.