Page 18 of On the Breakaway

I don’t like feeling like other people have a say.

The way she said it replays through my head, and I am not sure it had anything to do with the groceries at all.

My hand drags over my jaw as I think about the way she tensed when I almost blocked her path.

That wasn’t normal.

And whatever it was, it’s a hell of a lot bigger than she wanted to let on.

It was better when she was hostile for no reason, but now, knowing there’s a reason for her thorns, makes me want to see how close I can get without getting cut.

5

Avery

It was so weird. Who just reaches over and tries to pay for someone’s groceries like that?”

I juggle the ball from my right foot to my left, popping it up to my thigh and letting it bounce there twice before dropping it back down again. The damp turf is slick beneath my cleats, and the early morning chill is still clinging to the air. It feels good to move. Better than standing still and thinking for too long.

“People who are being nice,” Harper calls from the stands.

I scoff, catching the ball under my cleat and rolling it back.

Harper, Wesley, and I have been close since college. Harper’s a couple of years younger than us, but when she came along, it turned our duo into something more balanced.

She’s reliable and rational. The kind of friend who agrees to drive me to Harborlight Stadium at eight in the morning on a Saturday because my car is still sitting useless in a shop somewhere.

I love her. I really do.

But right now, I wish Wesley were here and not at Futures Camp trying to make the U.S. Women’s National Team. I need someone a little less reasonable. Harper’s too nice to jump on the crazy train with me about this.

“It was presumptuous,” I insist, trying again, as if maybe saying it enough times will get her to see it my way.

Harper hums, which is never a good sign. It means she’s thinking, and when she’s thinking, she’s usually about to say something I don’t want to hear. “It sounds like he was trying to extend an olive branch.”

I glare up at her. She’s sitting halfway up the bleachers, coffee in one hand with her coat wrapped tight around her.

“That’s exactly what he wants it to seem like.”

She takes a slow sip of her coffee. “Avery.”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing where you say one word, but it means twenty.”

“I’m just trying to understand why this has you so upset.”

“Because I didn’t ask for that,” I say, stepping closer to her. “And I don’t need it.”

She nods slowly. “Did he say you needed help?”

“No.”

“Did he make a big deal out of it?”

“No.”