With Me | Sequel to Be There ✔️

The Truth

I knew I messed up. Big Time. After the disaster in the lunchroom, I continued classes, and I could feel holes being burned in the back of my head from everyone. Once school ended, finally, I rushed out without a word to anyone. I even bailed on practice after school. Probably not the best idea, but I was not going to stand there and get shunned by all my teammates.

I hid away in my dorm, thanking God that it was Friday, and avoided interaction with other humans. When Julie entered, looking very green after practice, she said something about staying with Connie at her house, then quickly packed her bags and left, leaving me alone in the dorm for the night. I skipped dinner, deciding that remaining alone was better than food.

Despite the sky barely turning dark, I changed into black and white polka-dotted pajama pants and a white tank top, and then slipped into bed. I didn't sleep though, I just replayed the lunchroom incident over and over and over again. It was like a repeat button was on, and it didn't stop until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

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My eyes flutter open, and I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside me, which read 10:02. I sigh, looking over at the empty bed next to me. How could I be so stupid?

I consider hiding under the blankets until midnight, but a knock rings out on the door, destroying my plans. I shuffle off the bed, and I pull open the door, not bothering to check who it was.

"Hiya," greets Dwayne, a bit awkwardly, but can you blame him? He glances down at my wrinkled pajamas, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "Aren't ya gonna get ready? We got a game at noon."

I stare blankly at him, wondering how he can think I'm going to show my face to my friends again. "I'm not going," I answer. "I can't go." Dwayne rolls his eyes, scooting past me into the room. "Come on in," I mutter sarcastically as I shut the door.

He plops down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. I lower myself beside him, sitting crisscross as he looks at me. "Meg," he starts. "Do ya really think the team's mad at ya?"

I give him a "duh" look, before responding, "How could they not be?"

"No one's mad at ya, Meg. We're all just surprised at what happened. We didn't expect ya to lower your hand," he continues, making my head snap up, which I hadn't noticed was hanging down.

"What?" I ask, wanting to hear that again.

Dwayne stares at me strangely before repeating himself. "We didn't think ya were gonna put your hand down. We all think he deserved it. Even Luis thought he deserved it. He wouldn't stop ramblin' on last night about it. Why didn't ya though? Why did ya run out like that?"

I blink back tears as I look him in the eyes, the chocolate-colored orbs I love so much. "I couldn't do it," I say, quietly.

"Meg, he wouldn't've been mad at ya if ya had if that's what ya thought. He knows ya should've done it," Dwayne tells me.

"That's not the reason," I answer, lowering my eyes to the comforter, which is now very interesting. "That's not why I lowered my hand."

"Why did ya then?" Dwayne questions.

I sigh, fiddling with a string on the hem of my tank top. "I couldn't hurt someone I care about. I couldn't do what he did to me," I add that last part quietly, but Dwayne catches on.

He rests his hands on my shoulders. "Meg, what happened before ya came 'ere?"

"Part of it happened before I met you, Dwayne. I just never told you," I start, and I can tell he's a bit hurt about this. "When we received the news of playing for Team USA, we were thrilled. But, my dad, not so much. He wasn't mad, he just didn't care. Him and Dean were arguing, as usual, and I was eavesdropping, which is kind of bad, but whatever. Dean stormed off, and my dad followed, but I stopped him. He was surprised that I was there, then mad that I was listening. I said something like 'why should he come since he's never been a father before' or something close to that. And, he..." I pause.