Page 31 of Spiral
My cheeks grow flushed and red, my heartbeat quickening.
“What party?” I ask, trying, in vain, to seem nonchalant.
“Some football party, two weeks ago. A girl in my writing seminar was there and told me all about it. She said it was a rager and that Natalia couldn’t stop talking about how good he was when she came back downstairs…”
I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat. My lips quiver as I lift my book in front of my face, hiding the tear that streams down my cheek.
“Georgia?” Eleanor stands up half-way, peering her head over top of my book. “Georgia! What’s wrong?”
She gently removes the novel from my hands and wraps her arms loosely around me, joining me on the couch.
“I-I,” I sputter. Attempting to speak breaks down the flood walls and I instantly begin to cry. She cradles my head with one hand, leaning me into her chest for comfort.
“Th-that was the last time I spoke to him,” I choke out, my voice groggy and muffled against her hair.
“What do you mean?” she asks in between soothing shushes.
“A-after you t-told me about Patrick, I w-went to his house.” I sit up, wiping my tears from my cheeks and taking a deep breath. “I went up to his r-room and yelled at him. I told him I didn’t need him to protect me...”
She nods, allowing me to continue.
“S-some freakishly gorgeous girl had told me exactly where his room was. That must’ve been Natalia.” I spit her name out like poison, tears beginning to stream down my face once more.
I pause for a moment, the realization suddenly hitting me like a slap on the cheek.
“I-I thought he liked me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
It’s 6:50 p.m. as I step onto the now-familiar turf of Mason Field, and the energy is electric. I take a deep breath as I look up towards the chaotic stands, which are overflowing with proud Texas University Titans fans. The crowd is cheering already, even without any players on the field.
“So glad you could join us, Ms. Campbell.” Coach Bryer approaches me in a light jog, his fluorescent smile gleaming under the summer sun.
“Thanks for having me,” I mutter, my tone more timid than I’d like.
“Anderson should be out any minute – he’s gonna be your buddy this game.” He winks at me with a small twinkle in his icy blue eyes.
Just like his daughter. Henry’s girlfriend. I think I’m gonna be sick.
I nod slightly, and Coach Bryer gestures towards a small folding chair and table, set back about 15 feet from the sideline behind jugs of sports drinks and piles of gear.
“That’s your spot, little lady,” Coach Bryer declares, his deep southern accent adding a sing-song quality to the words.
I give him a half-smile and thank him once more as he retreats back to his place on the sideline.
No way in hell I’m sitting back here. I can hardly see anything!
Hesitantly, I examine the metal table and chair that, in the summer sun, has become immensely hot to the touch.
“Georgia.”
Henry’s voice is strained and quiet, almost pleading. He towers above me in full gear and padding, holding his helmet against his waist. His hair is tousled from the afternoon practice, with small strands hanging near his eyes and illuminated golden by the sun. His cheeks and nose are flushed with bright patches of pink and red, warming his skin and softening his features. His brows are slightly furrowed, though his expression remains tender.
“Hey,” I reply curtly, hiking the strap of my backpack higher onto my shoulder.
The Titans begin to fill the sidelines and turf in that moment, and Henry pauses as the crowd erupts in applause.
“Georgia…” his voice is low, as though my name was a precious secret he couldn’t risk anyone hearing but the two of us.