I glance down at my phone for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes.
3:20 p.m.
I sigh, putting my phone back in my pocket.
Damon is almost one hour late. Well, technically, 20 minutes late.
School ended at 2:30, but I stayed after to help Caroline do some student council things and then she tricked me into joining student council. I texted Damon and told him he could come get me at 3:00 instead of 2:30, but he never responded.
After Caroline left, I watched the track team practice and talked to the coach about joining and he agreed to let me try out next week. Then I got bored watching the team practice and not being able to actually run with them, so I decided to go sit on the school steps to wait for Damon, which is what I'm doing now.
I grow more annoyed by the second and I take my phone back out.
Where are you??? I text Damon.
I hear the door behind me slam shut as someone walks outside. "Gabby?"
I turn around to see Adam standing behind me.
He's wearing sweatpants, Nikes, and a tank top. His wet hair is falling in his face, so he keeps pushing it back, while holding a sweatshirt in his other hand and balancing a gym bag on his arm.
"Hey," I greet him, awkwardly waving at him.
"What are you still doing here?" he ask, sitting next to me.
"Caroline roped me into helping her with some student council stuff and she's very demanding, so I kind of had no choice," I explain.
"Yeah, she scares me a little bit," he laughs. "I saw saw you talking to Coach Jones. Are you thinking about joining the track team?"
"Yup," I nod. "I've been running track since I was 9. It would feel weird if I didn't at least try out for the team."
"Well, we could use someone with your experience. Our team sort of sucks," he admits, making me laugh.
"I saw you running out there. You're pretty good," I compliment.
"I only joined so I'd have something to do until football season starts back up. I mainly run to stay in shape," he shrugs, running his hands through his hair again.
"What position do you play?"
"Wide receiver."
"Ah, that's my second favorite player."
"Who's your first?" he asks with an amused smile.
"The quarterback. Duh," I answer, smiling back at him as he laughs.
"I should've known you were going to say that. Everyone loves the quarterback."
"How could you not?" I counter.
"You make a good point," he laughs. "I know, I'm not the quarterback, but would you still accept a ride from me? You look like you could use one since you're just sitting here."
"Um, my fri-" I glance down at my phone, sighing when I see the time again and no response from Damon. "You know what? I could use a ride. Thanks."
"No problem," Adam says as we both stand up. He quickly pulls his sweatshirt on, picks his bag up, and starts to walk down the steps, leading me to his car.
We stop in front of a silver 2009 Ford Focus and Adam clicks his alarm before opening the passenger door for me. "After you," he says with a cheesy smile as he bows dramatically.
