footpump

 

“Wait up!”

 

I jerk my head reflexively towards the owner of the voice, but I don’t have to look up to know I want nothing to do with her. Someday I’ll figure out what went wrong between us, what her problem with me is. She’s so consistent, so tenacious, you’d think she was jealous of something. But I’m not the one riding an athletic scholarship and making all the guys—and a certain girl or two—drool every time I flip my hair. A weight drops into my stomach at the thought. A little tightness in my chest.