12

SWEAT DRIPS DOWN my forehead and down my back.

Coach was relentless today, insisting that we needed to be in perfect shape in time for the game.

The game is two weeks away. Which, no, technically that isn't too far, but for my ass to be kicked in practice, it seems like a thousand years from now. Coach isn't one to mess around though.

I hike my duffel bag higher onto my shoulder, waving goodbye to Lucas and Blake. They had suggested meeting at Lucky's after practice—but I quickly shut them down. I know it's was technically a "tradition", but I have a good reason not to go.

I have a date with history today. And Lila. But mostly history. Sadly.

Though maybe it's a good thing, if I ever were to go on a date with Lila it would probably end with her pouring a cup of some liquid over my head—and well, been there done that.

I round the corner, seeing her sitting on the far edge of the bench, her earbuds plugged in. I slide next to her, stealing one side of them and placing it in my ear.

"What is this?" I say in disgust. "That's not music."

She snatches it back, glaring. "Good observation, dumbass," she gives a slow clap. "It's an audio-book."

"An audio-what?"

She rolls her eyes, "Oh my God. Let's get out of here. You're already driving me insane."

"Is it my looks? I am quite the masterpiece," I flaunt, siding up with her as we walk towards my car.

"More so your annoying voice," she corrects, giving me a pointed look. "Maybe you should...I don't know? Shut up?"

I pout, "But if I did that, who would remind you not to be such a grump? And besides, the ladies love my voice—it's one of my winning assets."

"One of them?"

"Second would be my d—"

"Do not finish that sentence," she sputters.

I throw my hands up in mock defense, "I was going to say driving skills. Get your head out of there, Matthews."

She wrinkles her nose, clearly unimpressed, and shuts the car door in my face. I try my best to wipe the stupid grin off my lips.

For some reason, out of all the people I know—which is a lot, I'll say—Lila is the one person I like to annoy most.

Maybe it's because I know there will always be some sort of retort—always topping my own—but ever since I met her, it's like we invented this odd game of pissing each other off.

I think it works pretty well.

I throw my duffel bag into the back seat before buckling myself in and starting the car. I feel like we're always in my car, one way or another. Like it's kind of our own little sanctuary.

I cast her a quick glance. "So, Matthews, what were you reading?" I say, watching as she looks my way.

She swallows, shaking her head. "Nothing."

I hum, "It didn't sound like nothing."

I can feel her glare burning into the side of my face. "It was just a book, alright? No need to interrogate me."

I smile, "But it's so much fun," I whine, emphasizing my words.

"You're horrible."

"Thank you," I give her a wolfish grin, but her attention is drawn to her phone as she curses under her breath. "What's wrong?" My brows dip as I make a left.

She shakes her head, "It's—"

"I swear if you say it's nothing I will personally drop you off onto the road and drive away."

"Jesus, you're so dramatic."

I roll my eyes, "What is it, Matthews?"

She sighs, shifting in her seat as if she's not sure she should say anything. I want her to though. I want to know why she's frowning.

That's what friends are for, right?

"You're scaring me, Lila," I say in a hushed voice.

Her eyes widen a little. "It's not that big of a deal—I swear. I don't think we can go to my place today, that's all," she huffs, but I know she isn't telling me everything.

Still, I don't want to push her, so I say, "Well we can always go to the diner, right?"

She makes a face, "I don't know..."

I bite my lip, having a feeling that there might not be a tutoring session today after all. I try not to let disappointment show on my face, keeping it as stoic as possible.

At this rate, I don't think I'm going to get anything above a C on our next test, which is going to ruin my fucking life.

"We could..." she trails off, turning to me. "What about your house?"

I immediately tense, my eyes narrowing. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She sighs heavily, her shoulders dropping. "We can just reschedule for tomorrow then?"

My jaw clenches, I have to pick Grace up tomorrow. I made Lilian a promise and I intend to keep it.

"I can't tomorrow," I resign, knowing what I have to do. "We'll...we'll go to my place."

She turns to me, "Are you sure? I don't want to intr—"

"It's fine, Matthews. I'm sure."

I'm not sure. At all. But there's nothing I can do about that now. There's exactly two ways this plan can go, but if it ends in getting in as much tutoring sessions as possible to get an A in history, graduate then leave this town, I will take my chances.

"Alright," she draws out.

I clear my throat, making a u-turn in the direction of my neighborhood. Anxiousness fills me, causing me to bounce my knee up and down.

If Lila notices, she doesn't comment on it. I pass the familiar oak trees, trying to steady my racing heart.

I tell myself that Lila isn't going to seep herself into anything. That we'll study and then she'll leave and it'll be over.

By the time we reach my house, I've almost believed my own mantra. Parking the car, I inhale deeply one last time before sliding out of my seat and meeting Lila on the drive way.

She gives me a small smile—which only leads me to believe I'm not being as discreet as I hoped.

But then she spins on her heal, walking toward the door, and I know I'm overreacting.

Everything is fine.

I pluck the key from under the mat, hearing Lila say, "You do know that is the absolute worst place to put your key, right?"

The corners of my mouth turn up a little as I open the front door, "Trust me, no one in this neighborhood wants the in to my house."

"If you say so," she sings, her eyes wandering about the now open door. I let her walk in first, my eyes never leaving her face as she takes everything in.

I throw my backpack onto the couch, my shoulders instantly sagging.

I swear that thing is filled with fucking bricks.

Lila settles down on the couch, grabbing her things from her bag and filling the coffee table with it.

I look to her, "Do you always carry around your textbooks?"

"Do you always not?" She retorts, not even glancing at me.

"My bag is already heavy, I don't need to it be uncarriable."

"Maybe you should start, you might be able to find out uncarriable isn't a word," she smirks at me, sliding the history textbook into my view and I roll my eyes.

"I knew that," I grumble, though, I did not know that. I thought we'd all come to an agreement that adding un to any word is acceptable?

I guess not to Lila. Though, I should have seen that coming.

"All you have to do," she begins, opening her notebook. "is highlight passage twelve in chapter thirteen and read till chapter sixteen."

I blow out a breath, nodding, I can do this.

I cast my gaze down to the textbook my eyes squinting as I take in the words.

Lila lightly drums her pen against the table, causing a steady noise.

I smile when I realize she's making sure it isn't silent.

Slowly, I absorb the information presented in front of me, trying my best to connect everything together.

I highlight through the seven lines of passage twelve, glancing at Lila occasionally to see her bent over her own work, still tapping her pen.

I'm just about done when the front door opens.

My heart leaps out of my chest as Lila's head shoots up and Maya walks into the living room, dropping her bag on the floor with her headphones on as my throat constricts.

She looks between Lila and I, narrowing her eyes before slowly picking her bag back up and walking away.

I don't miss the way her face screws up agitatedly.

I blow out a breath, setting my highlighter onto the coffee table. Lila looks at me, expectantly, but I don't say anything.

I don't know what to say. There is only three people who know I have two sisters.

Blake, Lucas, and Mom.

And I was planning to keep it that way, at least until I was out of here. Frustration settles low onto my eyebrows and just as I'm about to stand, another voice rings out, one that makes my stomach curl.

"Maya! I'm not done talking to you!" I hear my mom yell, her shoes clacking against the floor. My eyes widen, and I shoot off my seat following her voice.

She stands in the middle of the hallway, her purse open as she digs around in it, her blonde hair graying at the roots.

It's like a kick to the gut. Seeing her like this.

Her eyes are sunken, as they have been for the last three years, though over time, it has gotten noticeable worse.

I still remember in my freshman year, when she would at least try and hide it from me. But now I don't see her often enough for her to care.

Her head shoots up, eyes narrowing at me. "Chase?"

No, I'm fucking Michael Jackson.

"What are you doing here, mom?" I keep my voice cool. Trying not to let my anger seep into my voice.

She laughs lightly, "I can't come to my own home and see my kids now?"

Not when you chose to leave for weeks on end without so much as a warning. I don't say this, though. I've learned it's best to keep my inner thoughts to myself.

"What are you doing here, Marley?" I repeat, my voice more firm than before.

"Oh, relax, hun. Always so uptight," she slurs, taking a step closer to me. "I just wanted to say hi."

I grit my teeth, more than annoyed with her presence. "You've said hello, now leave."

She opens her mouth to say something, but her eyes flit to something behind my back and she straightens.

I quickly glance at what has caught her attention and swear under my breath.

Lila stands awkwardly in the entryway of the living room, her pen still in her hand. She looks at me then away, "Sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't mean to—"

"She looks nice," mom mutters, tilting her head. "A lot better than the last one, I'll say."

Slowly, I turn my head toward her, watching as she assesses Lila.

I want to tell her she doesn't get to do that, that she doesn't have the right to mother me when she has been anything but one for the last three years, but instead I nod my head toward the living room and turn back to Lila.

"I'll meet you back inside," I say shortly, trying my best to convey how sorry I am with my eyes. She only nods slipping back into the living room, leaving me and Mom alone.

"Mom, I need you to go," I say slowly, pointing at the door. She glares at me, as if I've done something wrong.

"How dare you!" she hisses. "I'm your mom, not the other way around, Chase!" She protests, throwing her bag to the floor.

I swiftly pick it back up, shoving it to her chest and whispering, "I swear to God if you don't leave, Marley, I will call the police—and you know I keep my word."

She swallows thickly, yanking her purse away. "I'm sorry, honey, you know I don't mean it—I—I've been doing better. Let me prove it to you. Please," she begs, widening her eyes.

Three years ago, I would have believed her. I would have been elated to hear those words come out of her mouth. But now, I just want her to take her lies and feed them to the next person who has the misfortune of bumping into her.

I walk past her, opening the door, "Leave."

Her mouth twists up, desperation crossing her face. "Please, Chase, please. I love—"

"Leave."

"Alright, okay. Just—Just ten dollars. I swear, that's all. I—"

I don't hear the rest of her words as I push her the rest of the way out and slam the door.

I lean my head against the cool wood, closing my eyes tightly, trying to focus on a sound. Any sound.

I hear the clicks of the pen all the way from the living room and I jerk upright.

I walk quickly into the living room, seeing Lila sitting on the couch with her knees hugged to her chest.

Her head lifts when she sees me, and I can see the clear worry in her eyes. Something in me tightens.

Slowly, as if sitting down will cause me to explode, I lean against the entryway, arms dropping beside me.

"Chase..." she begins, trailing off.

I shake my head. "It's fine. It's—"

She raises a brow at me, as if daring to finish that sentence and I remember my words to her in the car.

I shut my mouth, carefully choosing my next words. "She's just—going through...stuff. Its really okay, Matthews." I plead, standing straighter.

Lila swallows, looking visibly defeated. "Okay," she breathes. "Okay."

The little ball of anxiousness loosens slightly.

"Okay," I say too, as if all the other words in my vocabulary have disappeared. I'm very tempted to add a British lilt to my words—something I developed during a summer camp in middle school—but then she would know that it's not okay.

I quickly clear my throat settling next to her once more. "Where were we?"

Lila gives me an odd look, but thankfully doesn't comment on my topic change.

I hold my breath for a moment. Gripping onto what happened. And thinking that sometimes I wish I could hold it forever.