J. Nathan
FINLAY
I stared into my mirror, applying my final coat of pink lip gloss. Loose curls hung over my bare shoulders.
Cole ducked his head into my doorway. âFinlay, you coming to my game?â
I didnât bother turning around. âI have a date.â
âWith college boy?â His voice took on that disgusted tone he got every time my life didnât revolve around his football.
âWhy do you care?â
âBecause youâre missing my last high school game to hang out with that douchebag.â
I pulled off my flip flops and chucked them at his head.
He caught them easily. âYou still throw like a girl.â
âIâm still a girl.â My forehead creased, something suddenly dawning on me. âOh, I get it. The scouts will stop showing up in droves now that you committed to Alabama.â
âSo?â
âSo, youâre worried you wonât have enough adoring fans there.â
He cocked his head. âIâll have fans.â
âKeep telling yourself that, superstar.â I turned back to the mirror, making sure my makeup was still in place.
There was a long pause before Cole spoke again. âDoesnât mean I donât want my sister there.â
My heart squeezed in my chest, but there was no way Iâd let him know that. âWell this sister is so over high school football games.â
He scoffed from his spot in the doorway. âIf you ask me, she thinks sheâs better than high school. Better than her own brother.â He turned and walked off, leaving me feeling like a fraud. A big fat fraud.
Of course I wanted to see him play in his last high school football game. He was my twin. My other half. My partner in crime since the womb. But being the star quarterbackâs sister wasnât what it was cracked up to be. I was QBâs little sis or Coleâs sister. Never Finlay. I lost my identity as soon as Cole became a hot shot quarterback. The best in the state. And while I wouldâve liked nothing more than to watch him play, I needed to have my own thing. I needed to be my own person. I needed to have my own life. Living in Coleâs shadow just didnât allow it. So I started distancing myself from him. Blaming him for the circus happening around us. And when I said us, I meant him.
Senior year, when decisions about the future were so important, his âcelebrityâ had hit an all-time high, taking a major toll on me. My decision to go to the University of Tampa to major in something in the medical field took a backseat to the most anticipated answer in the state. Which college would Cole Thatcher play football for? Scouts stopped by the house, called regularly, and attended his games. And it wasnât just college scouts interested, pro scouts had been out, too, even though he wouldnât be eligible for the draft for two years. In our small town, word spread quickly. The local newspaper wouldnât keep quiet about his prospects. So the girls in our small town knew theyâd be hitting the jackpot if they could score Cole.
I learned quickly if someone I didnât know suddenly wanted me to sit with them at lunch or hang out with them on the weekend, they were only using me to get close to Cole. It became such a normal occurrence, I no longer knew who to trust. Never knew why anyone was talking to me, even friends Iâd had since kindergarten.
Frankly, his fame sucked. So what did I do? I made sure to suck as a sister. I avoided his games. I avoided him. Like any of it was his fault. But living in the shadow of someone else was the worst kind of fate. And for my own sanity, I put an end to it.
***
I glanced over my shoulder from where I stood over the sink cleaning the last of the water bottles. Grady walked out of the locker room glaring at me. He wouldâve had to work harder than that to get me to roll over.
My eyes flashed around the nearly empty room. A few stragglers were finishing up. Brooks shoved his belongings into his bag, his eyes darting from mine as soon as I spotted him. Was he still waiting for a thanks? Waiting for me to show my appreciation for him stepping in earlier? I knew what that entailed in a college quarterbackâs mind, and itâd be a cold day in hell before that ever happened.
Turning back to the sink, I dried my hands. It was going to be a long season. Iâd come to Alabama hoping to fly under the radarâhell, itâs how Iâd been living my life for the last two years. But now I had Grady on my back and the QB hating me. Things were definitely off to a stellar start.
I strolled up the winding path from the stadium toward Harris Hall, my hands pruned from water and my head pounding with an impending headache. Luckily, I hadnât been placed in a freshmen dorm. Because, though I technically was a freshman, I should have been a junior. Taking two years off had set me backâin more ways than one.
With most students, including my roommate Sabrina, not scheduled to arrive for another two weeks, it had given me time to adjust. Time to get my bearings. Time to acknowledge the fact that I was now living someone elseâs dream.
My first week had been tough. Baking in the hot sun all day while waiting on expectant football players wasnât at all glamorous. If I hadnât lathered myself in SPF 100 each morning, I wouldâve fried out there, giving me more freckles on my nose than was acceptable now that I wasnât a little kid anymore. Mom and Dad had called and texted daily. I knew they worried about me. But they had their own lives to move on with. So my decision to attend Alabama gave us all the space we needed to heal in our own way.
I flashed my keycard at the front door of my dorm, the closest one to the stadium in the village of contemporary five-story structures. I climbed the stairs to the third floor and made my way down the empty hallway. I stopped at my door, admiring my fancy artwork on the whiteboardâFinlay and Sabrina in red marker interlocking with bright red flowers. No one was going to say I didnât have Bama in my blood.
I punched in the code and stepped inside the room, dropping onto my red comforter and falling onto my back. I didnât sleep much, but the thick heat and direct sunlight I endured all day seemed to be the key. Because for the first time in months, my eyes drifted shut effortlessly. And for a short time, I could be sure my mind would remain a blank slate. With too much time on my hands and not enough sleep, the nightmares and memories crept in, stealing every drop of happiness I could muster. And for the past two years, those drops had been hard to come by.
***
âSoâŚIâm leaving.â
I placed another shirt into the suitcase on my bed before glancing up. Cole stood in my doorway, a backpack on his back and a suitcase at his feet. âOkay.â
âThatâs it? Okay?â
I crossed my arms and stared at him in his Alabama T-shirt. âWhat would you like me to say? Go kick some ass, Cole? Enjoy college, Cole? Or better yet, can I have an autograph from the almighty Cole Thatcher?â
âWhy are you always such a bitch?â
âOh, Iâm sorry for not acting the way the great Cole Thatcher thinks I should act. Tell me, what would be better?â
He stared at me, disgust filling every inch of his face. I couldnât help wondering if he was equally disgusted by my newly dyed blonde hair. My latest attempt at declaring my individualityâand a total bust. âWhat happened to you?â
I shrugged. âMaybe this is who I am. Did you ever think of that?â
He shook his head. âNo. Something happened. Something that made you despise me so much.â
âPeople grow up. And sometimes that means they grow apart.â With every word out of my mouth, bile rose up the back of my throat, prickling my tongue.
âI donât believe you.â
A car horn honked. His eyes flashed down the hallway. âWell...â He reached down and grabbed his suitcase before staring at me long and hard. With the shake of his head, he turned and walked toward the stairs.
Tears pricked my eyes as his footsteps descended the stairs. It took everything in me not to run after him. To throw my arms around him and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug. To tell him he was the best brother a girl could ask for. But my stupid pride stopped me. I uncrossed my arms and went back to packing for my own impending departure to college. I didnât glance back up until I heard the screen door slam shut downstairs. Thatâs when the floodgates opened and sobs ensued.
***
I jolted up from my bed. Even with air conditioning pumping through the vents in my dark dorm room, I sat in a puddle of my own sweat. It happened often. My subconscious had a field day while I slept, haunting me with a myriad of regrets.
I grabbed my phone from my nightstand. Four in the morning. That sounded about right. Heaving a deep breath, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the shower down the hall, a necessity after one of my âepisodes.â Once the cold water had wrenched the sweat from my body, I threw on shorts and a T-shirt and headed out for a run. Running was the only thing that knocked the memories from my head. At least for a little while.
I stepped outside into the dark morning, the hot air forming an imaginary blockade against me. My lungs expanded on a long, deep breath as I began my slow trek up the hill from my dorm at the bottom of campus, passing the other dorms shrouded in darkness.
Once I reached the quad, I maintained a steady pace. Even in the darkness, I took in the asymmetrical trees that created a canopy around the outskirts of the grass. Blue security lights lit each corner, the only means of safety in the dark space. Unlike my younger self, the darkness didnât scare me. Nor did those who lurked in the darkness. In my world, life and its unexpected curveballs were much scarier. Much more detrimental to oneâs well-being.
I picked up speed, challenging myself. Competing with the internal struggle I felt being on campus. By the time Iâd circled the quad for the first time, my heart rate had accelerated. I knew I could run faster. Smoother. Without gasping for air. So I pumped my arms, giving myself a push to gain speed. My faster pace created an early morning breeze against my face. I felt something I hadnât felt in some time. Free.
âWhatâs the rush?â a deep voice asked, startling the hell out of me.
My head whipped to the right.
Caden Brooks jogged beside me, keeping pace with me.
âItâs called jogging.â I didnât stop. If anything, I moved faster.
âNo, itâs called running like someoneâs chasing you.â He hadnât even broken a sweat and his breathing wasnât labored. Asshole.
âSeeing as though I didnât hear you, I wouldnât have known someone was chasing me.â ~There~.
âWell, thatâs stupid.â
My head recoiled. âWhat?â
âDidnât anyone teach you to be aware of your surroundings?â
No way in hell this guy was going to give me a safety lesson at four-thirty in the freaking morning. âYeah, I guess if they had, I couldâve avoided you following me.â
âFollowing you?â
âWe both ended up here, didnât we?â I asked, hating that I struggled to talk while running.
âIâve gone to this school for two years,â he continued. âEveryone knows itâs my morning ritual. If anyoneâs following someone, itâs you. Wouldnât be the first time a fan tried to get near me.â
With my face contorted in disgust, I slowed to a stop. Did girls really fall for this guy?
Brooksâ legs continued to move as he glanced over his shoulder. âWhat are you doing?â
âLeaving you and your ego alone,â I called. âYou deserve to be together.â I turned and jogged back down the hill toward my dorm. I could jog on the sidewalks down there.
Caden Brooks could have the quad.