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Motherfucker. Something with metal. Something not too difficult, since I only had a week to work on it. What could I make with metal?
An idea popped into my head, and I didn’t stop to question it. It just felt right. I wrote it down on my slip of paper and called the professor over. He took it and read what I’d written, raising an eyebrow.
“I like this for you, Asher. This’ll show a range I haven’t seen from you before. Who knows, maybe it’ll turn out to be your favorite medium. Get to work.”
The rest of the class flew by. I moved my shit to a different classroom with the equipment I needed and got to work designing the piece. Before I knew it, the bell rang, and people packed up and left. When I got out of the building, I headed straight for the cafeteria at the sports building, the metal project all I could think about.
I’d just sat at an empty table, my sketch of my design on the table, when Marcus appeared and slipped into the free seat beside me.
“Where the hell were you? You missed practice this morning.”
“I’m aware. I think the three voicemails Coach left me might have tipped me off.” He sighed as he sank back. He seemed exhausted.
“Where were you?”
“Don’t ask.” Marcus picked up a fry and bit off the end. “What’s that?” He nodded at my sketch.
“What does it look like?”
He squinted at it. “A ring?”
“Is it that ugly that you’re not even sure?” I asked, picking up the sketch and eyeing it critically.
“Ignore me. My brain has turned to shit this morning.”
“Bad day?”
He shrugged, irritated, like he wanted to shed whatever it was that had bothered him, but it wouldn’t quite go. He glanced around the cafeteria and suddenly stilled. I took a drink of water. He seemed so tense. He half stood, his gaze glued to the other side of the room.
“What is it?”
He stared another long moment, his eyes narrowed and intense. “My new music teacher.”
“Really?” I followed his gaze across the cafeteria. “Shit, is she even old enough to be a teacher?” I wondered as I took in the woman he was staring at.
She was talking to one of the English Lit professors, the one all the girls had a crush on, and laughing. She followed him to a table and sat across from him.
“You okay?” I asked Marcus, whose hands had curled into fists on the table.
“Fine. Let’s just eat.” He didn’t sound like himself at all.
“Whatever. You want to come up to the cabin next weekend?”
Marcus turned back to me and shrugged. “Depends if you’re bringing Winter or not. I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
“Of course, I am,” I heard myself say easily.
Marcus raised an eyebrow at me. “I thought it was just a game.”
I shrugged. “It was. And now it’s not.”
Marcus chuckled. “She broke you? The great never-lose Martino’s string of victories…finally at an end.”
“I don’t know if I consider myself the loser in this scenario,” I drawled, folding up my sketch and putting it into my bag. “After all, I get her.”
Marcus whistled lowly. “Like that, is it? So quickly? Great. You’ve joined Cade and Beckett in the loved-up club. I’m the last man standing, like always.” His dark eyes flickered back to the young and mysterious music teacher.
“Sorry, dude. It happens to us all, sooner or later. Eat up. You better go and see Coach and apologize in person. I’ll come with you.”
