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

I never understood hate of another person you hadn’t really met before, but I was experiencing it now. The malice on his face while his glare bore into mine was chilling.

However, instead of cowering under the pressure, I rolled my shoulders back and waited.

“For this semester’s project,” he began, like he changed them each time he taught this class. “I will be the client. And you will pitch, design, and prepare a detailed proposal with a budget for a rehabilitation project of something left in ruin. Although I’m the client, I’m giving you the ability to choose a house, building, amusement park, whatever, to present to me. Everyone will be given the same fictitious budget. If you need more, you will have to present that to me by Friday next week. I won’t require drawings or plans, but be prepared to answer questions for me to see the viability of your project. If I reject it, you will be given another opportunity, but you will lose points toward your final grade. I suggest for you to not miss a class as I will be giving real world examples during my lectures you will not find in your textbook.”

The smart choice would have been to drop the class and take an extra class next semester. But I found myself rising to his challenge and sitting down after he finished his speech.

When I came home from practice, I immediately started searching online. It was better if I had an idea of what I wanted to do, so I could make sure I had the relevant notes if I dared ask questions in his next class.

“Hey.”

I glanced over to see Shep leaning on my doorframe. I’d been so caught up with ideas, I hadn’t stopped to say hi when I had come home.

“Hey back,” I said.

“You look busy.”

I wanted to wrap myself around him. As he stood, his thumbs hooked into cutoff jeans with frayed ends. The worn T-Shirt he wore looked soft from wear.

“My professor hates me,” I began.

The story unfolded off my chest, releasing the weight I’d been carrying.

“He sounds like a dick, but you’re better.” He strode over and cupped my face, and I angled my head to look up at him. “You’re the girl that’s made a sport out of proving people wrong. When our science teacher said you couldn’t make a bottle rocket using soda as fuel, you did it.”

I remembered that but was surprised Shep did.

“With butane, and he knew it could be done. He was trying to teach us using water,” I said.

“But he challenged you in front of the class, and you went home and figured it out. And here you are on your way to being the captain of the football team.”

“Am not.” I giggled.

“But you could if you wanted to. Don’t let that asshole get the best of you. You’re incredibly smart, and I’m sure you’ll bust his balls by knocking his socks off.” He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Study and research. I’ve got reading to do.”

I nodded, though a part of me felt like nothing I did for the professor would be good enough.

That night I fell asleep trying to find the right project. When I awoke, I was disappointed to find Shepard not with me. How easily I’d gotten used to waking up with him after only a few nights.

The next evening, Shepard claimed he had a lot of work, and I spent another lonely night. I had narrowed down a few run-down buildings in Texas near where we lived that I could use in my real-world application to change something old into something new.

When Friday arrived, I stopped at Shep’s door before leaving.

“Come in,” he said.

He lay on his bed, arm half covering his face. I stood there, watching his chest rise and fall before I walked over. I sat and laid my head on the center of his chest to listen to his heart beat. He wrapped his arms around me.

“You should go. You’re going to be late,” he said.

“I hate this. I wish you were going.”

I didn’t elaborate. I knew better than anyone how much this bullshit accusation was killing him because it was killing me. We were leaving for our away game that afternoon instead of practice, and Shepard couldn’t come.

“So do I. Now go.”

In lieu of all the meaningless things I could say, I said the words I hadn’t said since that first night.

“I love you.”

I closed my eyes to fight back the angry tears as his arms banded tighter around me for a long moment. Then they fell away. I could hear August yelling for me downstairs, but I took my time to give him a lingering kiss.

“You’re going to do great, Cricket.”

He hadn’t repeated my words back to me. I fought against the sting because I’d felt his love in the reluctant way he let me go and in the haunted look in his eyes. I practically ran from his room, having left my duffle near the stairs, no need to add insult to injury.

I turned back a second to watch him toss a ball in the air and catch it. It was the saddest thing I’d seen in my life. I’d never seen Shepard look so miserable since the day he found out he had to move out of his house next door.

Practice turned out to be more of a meeting with light warm-ups which I relished. I had extra energy when I arrived for Professor Wright’s class and took Shepard’s advice. When the professor called me out as I entered the class, I didn’t stop this time. I found a seat. He didn’t press further and started class. Either I was winning his game or he was planning to checkmate me during my proposal meeting, which I hadn’t made yet. But I had plans to win the war.

Later that afternoon, instead of using the time on the drive to Houston for research,