Josie Guerrero is focused on one thing: getting accepted into the prestigious art studies program within the Art School at the University of Southern Washington. With thirteen weeks to create her sophomore portfolio, she knows she can't afford any d...
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I really should be doing my assigned reading right now.
Or my discussion board for Ancient Lit, or outlining my ten-page essay for Spanish Lit, or doing literally anything from the extensive ass to-do list that I have for school this week. But instead of being productive, I'm standing here in the kitchen, taking way longer than necessary to pour a bowl of cereal just to hear her voice echo softly from the living room.
She barely looked at me when I walked out of my room. Her honey eyes flicked up to meet mine and then darted back down to the notebook in her lap before I could even say hello. Her brows pulled together slightly as she considered the notes in front of her, and I knew the second she crossed her right leg over her left and turned away from me that she was mad.
Pissed, actually.
I caught the look on Luke's face when he looked over his shoulder at me — the one that said, damn, what'd you do?
I was going to ask her to see what the hell my dumbass did this time, but when I tried to talk to her, she cut me off instantly and said, "Sorry, I'm busy. Maybe try calling me later."
I was too stunned by the annoyance in her voice to press further, so now here I am, sitting at the kitchen island with my bowl of bland ass strawberry granola cereal, trying to come up with a game plan for how the fuck I'm going to dig myself out of this mess when I don't even remember what the fuck I said to her. That entire night was a blur, and I don't remember anything other than Luke buying me shot after shot after shot. Well, that and the very blurry memory of my phone call with Trey and the random brunette that let me fuck her against the bathroom wall when I walked back inside.
All I know is that I called her for a minute and twenty-two seconds. I could have done a lot of damage in a minute and twenty-two seconds, so I don't even know where to start here.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I groan inwardly when I see Seth's name on the three unread texts. I have a fight tonight — a big one. And based on the clips I've watched of this guy, it's not going to be a straightforward knockout like McGrath. The fight starts at eleven, and since it's only eight, I have a few hours before I have to leave. I can feel the anxious energy coursing through me as I stir the cereal around the bowl, but thanks to the near-constant train of anxious thoughts currently racking my brain, I can't seem to bring myself to eat. My days of easy fights are over.
I text Seth back that I'm good for tonight and try not to focus on the fact that tonight could be a make-or-break fight for me. This will show me whether or not I can hold my own in the big fights. Whether or not I'll be able to bring home the money that my brothers need. That my mom needs. And if I can't, who the fuck knows what Trey is going to end up doing.
The sound of the front door opening pulls me away from my quickly spiraling thoughts, and when I lean back to see Coop and West walk past, they both nod at me before a trail of our teammates follow them into the house.
