To say my mom is surprised to see me on her front step with my head in my hands would be an understatement.
“Oakley? What on earth are you doing here?” she yelps in surprise.
I rush off of the steps to take the grocery bags she is carrying from her and lead the way into the house, not speaking. I carry the bags to the kitchen and set them on the countertop.
“I needed to talk to you and I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”
She gestures for me to take a seat at the kitchen table, and I collapse into the chair gratefully. She sits opposite me and takes my hands in hers, her lips pursed.
“Oh dear, those aren’t words I like to hear.” Her eyes fill with worry. “You’re not in trouble, right?”
She always assumes the worst.
“No, I’m not in trouble, Ma. Not yet, at least,” I chuckle and she relaxes in her chair.
“What do you mean not yet? Did you get into another fight? Oh God, you did!” she adds in a shout and I hold my hands up in surrender.
“No, Mom. Calm down or I won’t tell you,” I threaten, and she just rolls her eyes. “My agent called me today,”
Her face lights up. “That’s good news, isn’t it? Is it really happening? This is so exciting!” Her excitement only makes me feel worse. When I don’t respond, her face falls. “Why aren’t you happy? You’ve been waiting for this your whole life.”
“I’m projected fourth, Mom,” I mumble, resting my head in my
hands.
“I’m confused. Fourth is amazing. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,
honey,” she says gently and takes my hands away from my face. “I’m not ashamed of fourth. I’m fucking hyped about it.”
“Then why did you come all the way here so upset? What’s going on?” she asks, her tone gentle but still firm.
It takes me a few seconds to come up with the right response. I never thought I would be drafted in the top ten. Just being drafted in itself is my dream, let alone so high. I just wish I was as excited as I should be. Instead, I’m confused and conflicted.
“Do you know the teams who have the most chance of picking in the top five?” I don’t wait for a response. “All American teams. Not a single Canadian team. Will said I’m most likely going somewhere on the West Coast.”
Mom sighs and squeezes my hands. “We always knew it was a possibility, sweetheart. You’ve always been ready for this. You said you were ready for this. Gosh, you used to go on and on about it,” she adds with a smile.
I nod my head reluctantly.
I have always been ready. I prepared for years for this exact moment, yet it feels like I’m making a mistake. Since the minute I got off the phone with Will yesterday I’ve felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t even tell anyone I was coming here. I’ve been ignoring Ava’s texts and since I didn’t show up to practice, Matthew’s too. Even Morgan’s texted me. I just don’t know what to say to them; I don’t even know what to think. How can I explain it to them?
“This is about Ava, isn’t it?” Mom murmurs.
Is it about Ava? Everything was planned perfectly before I met her. I never had a doubt in my mind about what I wanted for my life. Then I fell in love with her.
Fuck. It is about her. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You need to tell her. If it’s meant to be, it will be, baby. You know
that.”
For once, her words of wisdom do little to make me feel better.
“Can I stay here for a little while? I’m not ready to go back yet,” I
confess and heave a sigh.
“You don’t have to ask, sweetheart. You’re always welcome here.” She stands up with a small smile. “I’m just going to start dinner and put these groceries away. Your sister should be home soon, relax.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply before getting up, pushing my chair in and heading to my room.
 |
I’m woken up the next morning by someone jumping up and down on my bed. Without opening my eyes, I pull Gracie’s ankle and she falls right on me.
“Fuck!” I yell out in pain, clutching my pulsing nose. “Like I haven’t broken my nose enough times.”
A disgruntled Gracie rights herself and sits down next to me. “Don’t yank people’s ankles then, dumbass,” she says matter of factly.
“How about next time you just wake me up nicely? What time is it anyway?” I ask through a yawn.
“Nine. I have big plans for us today,” she chirps, practically jumping up and down with excitement.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Did you hit your head or something? It’s Saturday, you tool. Get dressed. You have ten minutes!” she exclaims, ruffling my hair. The door slams shut behind her and I groan. I guess I know what I’m doing today.
I grab my phone and unlock it to see tens of angry text messages, but I only care about a few of them, including the ones from my furious girlfriend describing her strong distaste with my decision to run off without a goodbye.
I let out another groan and send a group message to let them all know I’m okay. I guess I could have been a bit more considerate. Especially with Ava, but I can’t. Not until I figure things out.
With a sigh, I get ready quickly before Gracie rushes me even more. I knock on her door and pull it open. The strong, potent smell of perfume makes me sneeze as soon as I enter the small, pink room. Pink? I look around her newly decorated room and raise my eyebrows. It looks like a barbie threw up here. Gracie has never liked the colour pink. This is so weird.
I lean against the door frame and watch as she dabs makeup on her face at her vanity. “When did you paint your walls pink?”
She turns around with a hopeful smile. “During Christmas break. Do you like it?”
“Oh yeah, sure,” I lie. “It’s really…bright.”
“I know, right?” she chimes and leads the way downstairs. “Mom, we’re going out!” Gracie yells when we reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Have fun, be back by dinner!” Mom calls from the kitchen and is rewarded with an eye roll from Gracie.
 |
As Gracie and I were on our way out of the mall, we were bombarded by Andre. After receiving a lecture about not telling him I was in town. He invited me to a party that he’s throwing tonight, no surprise there. I refused at first, but I’ve never been able to say no to my best friend.
He now greets me at his front door with a crooked grin. He’s in his typical douche attire: khaki pants and a white polo.
“Hey, buddy, the whole team decided to come out to see you!” Andre shouts over the loud music blaring from the speakers scattered around the packed living room.
The potent smell of sweat and pot is enough to make my stomach twist. For such a small house, Andre has never had a problem fitting hundreds of people in here. Not even the multiple visits from the police and their warnings to keep it down have stopped him—or even phased him, for that matter.
“Awesome, it’s been a while!” I shout back as I look curiously around the room. The flashing lights make it hard to make out the faces we walk past. I can already feel the beads of sweat drip down my neck, and my heart hammers against my chest.
Well this is bringing back memories I would have liked to stay forgotten.
Andre slips away, leaving me to remember the names of half of the people here—a task that I am not cut out for. The music drops suddenly, and his voice blares from a microphone plugged into the main speaker.
“My boy is back in town! Let’s give him a big welcome!” He winks at me, waves at a few girls, and drops the mic.
The music returns all too loudly as he approaches me again, and I groan. Annoyance is written clearly on my face as I shove his shoulder lightly. “You know I don’t like attention, you prick.”
“Oh, loosen up, Lee. Let’s get you a drink,” he says and drags me over to a bar area before I can protest. Andre gets two red cups and fills them both up with a brown liquid. He hands me one and I take it from him with a shrug.
Someone bashes into my back and the drink spills down the front of my hoodie. I turn to see a blonde girl about my age giggling beside me, trying to keep herself upright.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that,” she slurs, her cheeks flushed. I sidestep around her and glare at Andre. I am not in the mood for this shit.
“It’s okay, beautiful. You don’t mind, do you, Oakley?” he asks smoothly, shamelessly flirting with the drunken girl. He slinks an arm around her waist and squeezes. I tense and eye his arm warily.
“Yeah, no worries,” I mutter and push through the crowd to find somewhere quiet.
I only get to the other side of the room before someone claps my shoulder. It is one of my old wingers, Jason. Or at least I think it is. It’s nearly impossible to tell who is who in here.
“Hutton!”
I open my mouth to reply but he grabs my arm and drags me over to a group of vaguely familiar people before I have the chance to speak. He pushes me down on one of the couches beside a pretty brunette.
“So, what’s good?” he asks.
“Hey, Jason. Just the usual shit. You?” I ask politely, staring into my half-empty cup.
He throws an arm over the back of the couch and eyes the chest of the girl next to me. “That’s not what we hear.”
I furrow my brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t want anyone to know about your girl or what? It isn’t every day that the great Oakley Hutton gets tied down,” he laughs, earning giggles and a few scoffs from the girls scattered around the circle.
“Yeah, Oakley. Last time we checked, you didn’t have time for anything but a hookup,” a voice from the corner interjects, prompting me to roll my eyes.
“Sounds like someone’s still sour, Layla,” Andre quips as he pushes his way into the group.
“Not sour. It’s not like the sex was even worth remembering. I actually feel sorry for the girl,” Layla retorts from her spot against the wall.
“That’s not what you said before,” another girl chimes in. Layla shoots her a withering look.
Layla is one of the puck bunnies I ended up hooking up with. Not my finest moment, but she was stunning, and I was a drunk sixteen-year-old. Am I really to blame?
“I didn’t think I needed to discuss my girl,” I shrug in response.
“Is she hot?” someone from across the room asks. I turn sharply, glaring daggers at the audacious intruder.
My phone vibrates, pulling my attention away from the simmering anger. It’s Tyler.
“Dude, please tell me you’re not out here surrounded by a bunch of girls,” Tyler’s voice comes through gruffly. “You might want to get your buddy to stop posting pictures of you with a bunch of chicks when you’ve been ignoring your girlfriend all day.”
“What pictures? I haven’t even been with any girls,” I almost snap, my temper flaring.
Tyler sighs, clearly irritated. “Just talk to her before she jumps to the wrong conclusion.”
I groan and make a beeline back into the party. Andre, you’re about to get an earful.
