The Opposition

Chapter 12: Carter

 "Give me your number," I tell Sadie as we wait for our taxi by the campus gates.

"Smooth," she says, rolling her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself as if they'll protect her from the cold.

"Funny," I tell her. It's early and I don't have the energy to deal with her right now. "Just give me your number."

"And why would I do that?" She asks. So damn stubborn.

"It's a safety thing," I tell her. "We're supposed to be looking out for each other because we won't know anyone else. So, we should exchange numbers just in case one of us gets lost or needs to find the other."

She stares at me for a long time before she gives in and reads off her number to me. I set the contact name to "Jones."

"Why do you have to be so fucking logical at six in the morning," she grumbles.

"Why don't you put on your morning person facade, huh?" I tell her. I don't want to be logical; I want to go to bed. Landon insisted on playing a dorm room version of tackle football last night and I think I'm sporting a few broken ribs.

"I need coffee to give me the energy to do that," she grumbles.

"Same," I agree.

We wait in silence and I wonder what it'll be like living with Sadie for a week–just the two of us. We even have to share a room, but Fairridge has a large enough endowment to afford to pay for the largest suit in the hotel that is probably bigger than both of our dorm rooms combined. Maybe even bigger considering the fact that we each get a king sized bed. I've stayed at many hotels for track meets and smaller debate competitions, but I've never attended something so fancy. This doesn't feel like a high school level competition. Hell, I don't even know what you get if you win.

A green taxi pulls up in front of us a few minutes later. I help Sadie load her luggage into the trunk, even after she insists that she can do it herself. I don't know if I've ever met anyone more stubborn than Sadie. The first time I met Sadie was at a Meet the Students event on the day before school started. I had already moved into my dorm, so Landon, Dimitri, and I stuck together as we were introduced to the guys that would be on Landon's football team, the students in my advanced placement classes, and the current members of the debate team. Landon was getting well acquainted with the football team and Dimitri had run off to meet the teacher that ran the school paper, so I was left talking to Ms. Davenport. She explained to me the format of debate at Fairridge, where you came up with your speech within a 20 minute time frame. After she left to go talk to another student, I stood by a table full of drinks and sipped on my bottle of water, taking in the enormity of the campus. That was until a girl with dirty blonde hair appeared in front of me, took one look at my tie, and said, "You did it wrong." I didn't reply and just stood oddly still as she walked toward me and began undoing my tie before doing it up correctly. I wondered if she could feel my heart racing under her touch, but, if she did, she didn't show it. My heart feels kind of like that now when Sadie scoots close to me in the backseat of the car, her hand brushing mine when she does up her seatbelt.

The driver looks like he's in college or just graduated. His blonde hair flops over into his eyes and his left arm is covered in tattoos. I don't like the way he looked Sadie up and down when she entered the car. And I hate the way he keeps stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror. There's no way the guy doesn't know she's in high school because he just picked us up from a fucking prep school. "Eyes on the road, man," I tell him, scowling at the look of surprise that crosses his face. I look over to Sadie, but her head is pressed against the headrest and her breathing is shallow. She fell asleep.

She looks so peaceful sleeping. Her plump lips are a millimetre apart and her full lashes rest against the tops of her cheekbones. I don't know what comes over me, but all I want to do is wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. Fucking get it together, Carter. But that thought disappears when she shifts in her seat and her head falls onto my shoulder. Her long hair creates a curtain over my arm, and a small part of me hopes she she'll stay like this for a while.