Page 41 of Passing Notes

Font Size:

Page 41 of Passing Notes

I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back.

“Drink that water,” he called with a wave over his shoulder. “All of it. Don’t make me come back and force a Gatorade down your throat.” The laughter in his voice told me he knew better than to look back.

CHAPTER 13

CLARA

You’re the only one who understands me. How did I get so lucky? - Nick

Days had passed, then a week. Then two-ish more until time had lost all meaning for me other than there were days when I saw him, and days that I didn’t.

Days when glimmers of my past with him gave me a smile, and days when it broke my heart all over again. The trouble was, I couldn’t seem to predict how seeing him would make me feel.

Some memories were cherished, never to be forgotten; but then there were the kind that hung on no matter how much you wanted to forget them. They existed, clawing at my subconscious, determined to never let me be happy.

Neighborhood chitchat, high school teacher scuttlebutt, and asking about his kids was the name of the game for me now.

Nothing personal.

No feelings allowed, and no more talk about trying to be something we could never be.

And absolutely no more kissing; that was off the table for good.

I had decided to be cordial-neighbor-Clara. It was safe and the right thing to do. I couldn’t ignore him anymore; it was rude and he didn’t deserve it. Hiding had never really worked, and it was too obvious anyway.

I liked his kids. I even liked him. I’d had to figure out how to make it work and I thought I had it down. Sure, occasionally when his kids were with Morgan, we got caught up in an accidental flirt-fest in the yard. And passing him in the halls at school was as dangerous as it had always been—the longing glances were inevitable. But I always put a quick stop to all of it. I had the sense that no matter what he said, he wasn’t quite ready for more with me anyway.

We still had chemistry and shared a lot of memories, but we didn’t have to fall victim to them.

But tonight felt particularly hard. The nostalgia was real, and it was driving me to the brink of something terrible.

I was restless. My heart was pounding to the beat of teen-delinquent Clara’s angst, and it was all I could do not to run off and hide.

Tonight was homecoming, and for some damn reason I was sitting in the bleachers with my sisters, brothers-in-law, and their kids watching the stupid game.

Did I find it odd to be here, sitting on a bench like an upstanding citizen right above the place where I’d spent almost four years getting wasted with my friends? Yes, I sure as hell did.

Memories of being here while Nick was out on the field doing his thing were chugging like a freight train through my mind. He had been so good; the crowd had loved him, the town had adored him. He’d earned a football scholarship to UT, for eff’s sake.

Then there was me, hanging out with Molly and Leo, watching it all, half-drunk in our usual spot. He never knew I was here watching him play—well, except the first time he played as quarterback, but that was it—I had never wanted him to know. How awkward would that have been? The quarterback, the golden boy, wasting his time with a burnout from beneath the bleachers. Nope, no way that could never be...

And he was still good—and hot, and sexy, and ARGH! He was coaching his ass off out there and I couldn’t stop staring as he ran up and down the field in that stupid, well-fitting Green Valley High polo and backward baseball cap.

I should be far, far away from here but Gracie had insisted I come tonight, because Willa had insisted that she come. “It’s a family thing,” Gracie had said.

And when I resisted, she mentioned that Marianne and her two witches would most likely be here and reminded me that I was the only one who knew about their bullshit bullying.

Added to that was the fact that Ruby would be marching with the band and not available to hang out with. And Mari wouldn’t be around either; she’d be busy with the pregame and halftime shows. There was no way she could run interference with all she had to do.

How could I say no? I couldn’t, and she knew it.

So not only was I here, being tortured alive by memories of my tragic past, but I had a perfect bird’s-eye view of Nick stopping and waving to his kids and ex-wife sitting on the bench up front.

Jealousy burned through me like an out-of-control freaking forest fire, and I was ashamed of myself. I had zero right to be jealous of anything, plus he was divorced. Being jealous of an ex made me a nut, but I couldn’t seem to stop these feelings.

It was good that they got along. It was even better that they spent time with their kids together. It’s what every child from a broken home wants, and I was happy to see it for Sasha and Ethan’s sake.

But for me? It made the desire to find my way under the bleachers and hide out almost irresistible. Ugh.




Top Books !
More Top Books

Treanding Books !
More Treanding Books