A Perfect Game. ➳

APG | 17.

February 12th, 2016-

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach where you feel like everything is in slow motion and everything around you is crumbling down?

That horrible feeling when nothing matters and your brain is silent? And the only thing you hear is the steady beat of your heart about to jump out your chest? Yeah, that was exactly what Drew was feeling.

"Dad!" He shouted, walking through the doors of the main office and giving Greg a warm and tight hug. Something he hadn't done since he was a little kid.

Greg laughed, hugging him back. "Are you alright, son? You look like something terrible just happened to you."

Drew let go of his father at the words he let out, stepping back and eyeing his father closely. He noticed how Greg looked to be 100% fine and he took that and his words as an okay that he was able to sit down in one of the waiting chairs, trying to get his breathing back to normal. He unzipped his windbreaker and placed it on the seat he was in, taking a few cautious breaths.

When Principal Parnell had told him that there was an emergency, he immediately thought the worst. Ever since his mother passed away, the word emergency was always something that made him sick to his stomach with no problems. And with Greg being the only family he had left, he couldn't afford to lose him. So without a doubt, he was ready to break down a few minutes ago.

"You told them it was an emergency? You look alright to me, dad. Why am I down here?" Drew finally spoke after getting himself together, eyeing Greg suspiciously through his dark brown orbs.

"I told them it was an emergency because I had something I wanted to share with you. I have a new business idea." Greg smiled, causing Drew's facial expression to switch from blank to confused.

"You came down to my school and scared me half to death for a business idea?" He finally replied.

"Yes. And this business, I was thinking about opening up my own bar. Right in the garage," Greg continued, reaching inside the pocket of the crisp button up he was wearing, flashing Drew a piece of paper. "It's great. My lawyer said it'll be bringing in tons of money and we can advertise to-"

"Wait," Drew stood up, interrupting his father's spiel. "But the garage is where the studio is. All of mom's things are in there. All of her beautiful artwork, all of her belongings, everything."

"Yes, but we can always move that stuff into a storage unit. Think of this wonderful opportunity though, son." Greg grabbed his shoulder, at which Drew shrugged off him effortlessly, not believing what was being told to him.

"You're just not getting it, are you? That studio is all I have left of her and you want to tear it down?"

"Don't be so stubborn, Drew," His father hissed at him in a crude manner, his tone telling Drew to keep his voice down. "It's just some stuff."

"It's not just some stuff! It's my mother! You may have erased her out of your life but I didn't erase her out of mine." Drew snatched his jacket off the chair he was previously occupied in, heading towards the door that lead to the outside of the building.

"Drew Gregory Montgomery!" Greg called, using the same voice he used when talking to the football team he coached. "You better watch what you say to me, son."

"No, you better watch what you say to me, dad. You don't care about no one but yourself. And I'm glad mom was planning to leave you before the accident, because honestly you didn't deserve her."

And with that, Drew opened the doors and walked out the building without another word.