Did you get home safe?
My heart ramps up to one hundred miles a minute as I read and reread the text. Itstillhasn’t gotten on board with this whole only-friends program.
I did.
Good.
The “typing” pop-up appears before I can respond, flashing in and out of existence several times before disappearingaltogether. With each repetition, the fluttering in my chest dwindles into disappointment.
Dejected, I toss my phone on my side table and get ready for bed. But the notification waiting for me when I’m done spurs those feelings to life again.
I’m glad you came tonight.
I fight the urge to kick my legs and squeal like a girl from an early-2000s teen movie. It’s a stupid reaction to have because of a text from a friend. A completely platonic, hot-as-sin friend.
I’m glad I could make it.
Get some sleep.
Yes, Coach.
I’ll see you next Sunday.
Bring water.
I roll my eyes and put my phone away for the night. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep the giddy smile off my face as I drift to sleep.
Chapter 15
Gage
Kori’s late.
Twenty-three minutes late, to be exact—not that I’m counting.
Who am I trying to fool? Of course I’m counting. With every minute that’s ticked by, the barbed grip on my lungs has grown tighter. I’m surprised my feet haven’t worn a path in the floor from how many times I’ve paced the perimeter of the mats.
She hasn’t even responded to my text checking in. Logically, I know that means she’s probably driving or doesn’t have her phone on her, but the gloom can smell my worry and is using those seeds to plant worst-case scenarios in my head.
As I turn to restart the path, the bell over the door rings out through the air. My whole body whips around to the source of the sound, and all my tension melts away at the sight of Yellow dressed in her normal vibrant hues. The matching set looks good on her, and the tight spandex doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
She gives me a sheepish smile and lets the door fall shut behind her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says as she drops her things on a bench in her rush to the mat.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah.” She bites on her bottom lip as she grimaces, drawing my gaze straight to her mouth. “I got distracted and lost track of time.”
“And you didn’t think to text?” The question comes out tinged with annoyance.
She shrugs and drops her eyes to the mat.
“Phone’s dead. It’s the main reason time got away from me. I didn’t have my alarms to remind me, and by the time I noticed, I didn’t have time to charge it.”
“Aren’t kids your age supposed to be glued to their phones,” I tease.
“I’m not a kid,” she huffs.
