Out of My League by Sarah Sutton

Author:Sarah Sutton [Sutton, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Golden Crown Publishing, LLC

Chapter Fifteen

Mom left around two in the afternoon with Mariana, Dad heading to the bay shortly after. It was strange being cooped up in the house on a holiday all by myself—this was the most un-Fourth of July ever.

I didn’t even have the motivation to work on my article.

The problem about being isolated on a holiday was that there was no one to talk to. Edith, no doubt, was already down at the bay, soaking up the remnants of sunlight and playing some beach volleyball. My texts to her remained unanswered. I wondered if she’d be chatting up Zach or not—I hoped so.

I could’ve texted Walsh, but I doubted that he’d answer either, having to do his errands before going down to the party.

Would tonight be the end of our fake relationship? Would people wonder why we weren’t together? Would they even notice? Scott would. And Walsh—would he say that I was just at home, or would he say that things weren’t working out between us?

The thought of our ruse ending being up made me feel sad in a way. Maybe because I’d lose him as a source for my article. But then again, I did have a pretty good list running: the information I’d found on the school’s site, the team paying off the other players—though I needed just a smidge more proof for that—and Ryan’s parents’ private donations to the baseball fund. With those points, my article was basically done.

Just the idea of letting everything fall apart, staging a public break up, probably never speaking again—none of it sat well with me. My mind went back to when we’d read together in his car and floated along the bay outside his house for hours, just talking. And the way he’d looked at me earlier this morning. All of it was…nice. Really nice. And other than with Edith, I hadn’t had anything really nice with anybody in a while.

It had to end sometime.

The sun began to fall from the sky by the time my movie ended, and I stood up and stretched. Shiba laid on the end of the couch, sound asleep, her stomach facing the ceiling and her paws spread wide. She looked so uncomfortable. I really wanted to reach out and run my fingers along her stomach, but I knew what that would result in: claw marks, yowls, and probably tears on my part. I’ve learned the hard way that Shiba’s sleep isn’t to be messed with.

A loud knock came from the direction of the front door, startling me so badly that I let out a squeak. Shiba jerked awake, immediately shooting me a look. “Sorry,” I told her, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Blame whoever’s at the door.”

I made my way towards the door, wondering who would be stopping by at this hour. Maybe Mom or Dad, having forgotten their keys? When I got close enough, I raised my voice. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” the voice said, pausing. “Scott.”

I jerked away from the door as if I’d been shocked.

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