Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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When I wake up in Mattis' bed the following day, there's a slight pounding in my head. Mattis is already gone, a note on the pillow beside my head saying he had to go to practice.
Being in his house alone while all the guys are on the field together is a little strange, so I take off.
I trudge home, hands burrowed in my pockets as I think about last night's events. The fight left me slightly on edge, an unease I can't quite shake, and I know I need to clear my head. And exercise has always been the best way for that.
The weather is too gloomy to inspire a run, so it's time to visit my good friends - the punching bags at the gym.
I dial Emmy's number as I walk, hoping he's back on campus, hoping I can convince him to go with me. In part because he's a good workout partner, pushing me when I lose steam and giving me tips to improve my technique. But mostly, it's because I miss him, and deep down, I'm a little worried for him.
He doesn't pick up.
I scowl at a puddle on the sidewalk like it's somehow its fault that one of my best friends is ignoring me.
After stopping by my dorm to change, I take the stairs up a floor instead of leaving straight for the gym. I've been by twice this week already, and I think Derek is getting tired of me, but if there's a chance to get in touch with Emmy, I'll take it.
I knock on their door, but no one answers. After a little while, I knock again. Still nothing. In a last attempt, I lift my hand and pound the door hard. A few seconds later, the door flies open, and there stands Emmy.
Or, though it's definitely his muscular, tattooed arms and dark curls, the guy standing in front of me is certainly not Emmy.
At least not the Emmy I have gotten to know.
His cheeks are hollow, big purple bags adorns his eyes, the ever-present smile that always lingers at the corners of his lips is eerily absent, and his chocolate brown eyes that have never looked at me with anything but kindness are blank as if he's staring right through me.
Although, as his gaze finally focuses on me, his eyes do soften a little. "Cat," he says in a gruff voice that sounds like it hasn't been used in a long time, and I know it must be bad when he doesn't call me by the nickname he came up with.
On instinct, I step closer, throwing my arms around his waist. My cheek rests against his collarbone, and his body is like stone. Hard and still. Then, with a heavy exhale, his arms come up, crushing my body against his, and he burrows his face in my hair.
I hold him, trying to pour all my comfort into him. I've always felt safe with Emmy, always found solace in his embrace, but this time he's the one in need.
I don't know how long we stand there, holding each other completely silently in the doorway while people mill around in the hallway. I've got my eyes closed, but I imagine them sneaking glances at us, wondering what the hell is going on.
