Songs for Cricket by Laine, E. (best books to read in your 20s TXT) 📗

in the making, breaking all the traditional male barriers, but you are just a student who shouldn’t be in my class. I’m not sure who your advisor is, but this is a second-year class, not a first.”

Accustomed to defending my choices to my father, I pointed out how inaccurate his assumptions were.

“I earned enough credits for my advanced placement and international baccalaureate classes in high school. I didn’t have to take a lot of freshman level classes.”

His lip curled, and I waited for his next derisive statement.

“Overachiever that you are, I demand absolute perfection in my class. Architects can’t make mistakes with their drawings or a building would be unsafe and couldn’t stand. If you can’t bother to be on time, you should consider withdrawing from my class. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

He walked away, not giving me chance at a rebuttal.

I stood frozen a second before getting to my next class on time became a priority. I made it there a little late, but thankfully, my tardiness went unnoticed. I spent part of lunch checking online, seeking another open Architecture Design I class and found none available. Then I went to find the email for my advisor so I could email her to see if there was another class I could take to stay on track. Only I discovered an email sent from the school’s internal communication dated three days ago that my advisor had changed. They were pleased to inform me that my new advisor was the department head, Professor Wright.

Crap.

Could my day get any worse? I found myself walking in the café with little appetite. But I ended up getting soup, half a sandwich, and a side salad. I planned to eat the soup and have the rest later when my stomach settled down.

That was when I found myself with a choice. Emily and Shepard had class. Tori was off campus eating lunch with her father. So did I sit with my brothers where August animatedly held court at the moment or by myself? I opted for hanging solo.

My solitude was broken when Billy came to sit across from me.

“Hey, why are you all alone over here?” he asked.

I shrugged. He was nice and all, but sharing my problems wasn’t a line we’d crossed.

“I keep asking myself if I should just say it.”

I glanced up from my soup. “Say what?”

“I thought we were hitting it off, but you’ve been avoiding me.”

He was right, and it was time I set the record straight.

“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . there’s someone else.”

Shepard.

“Can I ask who?”

There was no way I could say anything. He was on the team, and I didn’t know Billy well enough to be sure he wouldn’t use the information to get Shepard and me into trouble with Coach’s new rule. So I shrugged.

“If you can’t say his name, maybe that means I still have a shot.”

“Billy,” I sighed.

“I know you’ve probably heard things about me, and a lot of them are true. But I’ve changed. I think we could be good together.” He paused and got up. “Think about it.”

I watched as he walked to the long table filled with guys from the team. Team. That was a joke. Professor Wright had called me the darling of the campus where I felt like a total outsider.

To complete my day, practice turned out to be a disaster as well. I couldn’t seem to kick a ball worth shit. They went wide or wild. Nothing got even remotely close to the uprights. Bryant snickered as I intently studied the ball on my next try to see what I was doing wrong.

It was quick, but I was sure I saw the substitute holder tilt the ball just as my foot connected.

The ball went nowhere. It skittered across the field but found no lift. I glanced down at the guy who wouldn’t be my holder during a game. That position was filled by the second-string quarterback, Cooper. The guy smirked at me until Coach Ari called me out.

“Farrow, what the hell is going on? I know it’s getting close to game time. But now is when it counts. I can’t have you out there if you’re going to flake on me.” Just slightly louder, he said, “Five, everyone. Get hydrated.”

I could have told him my suspicions, but how could I prove it? And what if I was the cause? Saying something could turn the team against me. August wouldn’t have my back anymore, would he?

For the second time that day, I was close to tears. I fled the field and grabbed a cup full of warm Gatorade and guzzled it down.

“Everything okay?”

I glanced up at Shephard who stood beside me at the water table.

“Besides the fact I can’t seem to kick a ball to save my life . . . nothing.”

His hand inched toward mine when I leaned on the table. His fingertips brushed lightly over them.

“Did Bryant say anything to you?” he asked in a stage whisper.

“No. He’s done nothing.”

I held back on my suspicions. Mostly because there were too many ears and also because I vaguely blamed the bad day I’d been having on myself.

He took my arm. “Come on. Let’s go kick a few balls while the coaches are talking.”

“Shepard,” I said, but it was a lost cause.

After scooping up a few balls, he had me on the thirty-yard line.

“Okay, show me what you got.”

His utter confidence was a boost to my failing one. I dropped back and counted off my steps, trusting Shepard to hold the ball exactly right. I kicked, and the ball soared, sailing through the uprights. Not exactly dead center, but better than anything I’d done all day.

“Again,” he said.

I kicked two more balls that got closer to perfection each time.

“That’s what I like to see,” Coach Ari shouted.

Shepard stood up. “Maybe she isn’t the problem.”

“Connelly,” Coach said, “Over here.”

He gave me one more look and then shot another one at my squad coach before jogging over to where our head coach