End Game_Bellevue Bullies Series Read online

  “Yeah, he’s too pretty-boyish.”

  She makes a face. “Ryan? My brother? Are you sure? He’s not a pretty boy.”

  “He was wearing that suit, right? And his hair was glossed over, all pretty-boy like.”

  She just blinks before she snorts with laughter. “I can’t wait to tell him that you made fun of his hair—”

  “No! Don’t!”

  But she’s not listening to me; she’s laughing. “He hates his hair like that, but he has to wear it that way since they have to be all clean-cut and perfect when they go to school events. It’s a team thing.”

  I press my lips together. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t usually look like that. He usually looks like a regular guy.”

  “Eh, he’s too Clark Kent for me.”

  And boy how I wish he’d come and carry me away like my own personal Superman.

  But that can’t happen.

  “Oh, okay.”

  I shrug, tearing apart my chicken as I watch her. She doesn’t look upset, but she looks perplexed. “Don’t be offended, please. I don’t mean that to be rude.”

  She shakes her head, though her brows are still drawn together. “Oh no, it’s fine. Just I’m curious if I’ll still get to meet Moon since you’re turning him down.” I scoff as she sets me with a look. “Can you act like you dig him so I can get my introduction?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not fair, and I wouldn’t lead him on.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  I laugh. “Amelia.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she says, shaking her head. “Hmm, I gotta figure out how to get around this.”

  “You aren’t mad at me?”

  She pauses as she gets up. “Mad that you don’t want my brother? No, I’m actually relieved.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, Ryan doesn’t do girlfriends, and I wouldn’t want him to end up hurting you because, duh, you’re my bestie.”

  I swallow past the lump that forms in my throat. He looked like a settle-down type of guy, which is why I’m running the other way. “Oh, well, I don’t do boyfriends.”

  “Are you sure you can’t just sleep with him? That will get me a for-sure date with Moon.”

  I hold back my laughter. If only she knew how that would never happen. “That goes above and beyond best-friend duties.”

  “Shit, you’re right. Fine. I’m going to bed.”

  Relief floods me. “No party?”

  She shakes her head. “No way. I’m beat, and I want to be fresh for tomorrow.”

  “It’s not ’cause I’m not going?”

  “That too. I don’t want to go alone or face the million questions my brother will hit me with.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, he’s been texting me since I left. He really wants to meet you.”

  My heart flutters. “Oh.”

  She tosses her phone onto the nightstand between us, and she isn’t lying. It’s going off with messages from her “Bubba,” all asking where we are. A jolt of excitement goes through me at the thought of someone as hot as Ryan digging me, but I gotta keep my head on straight. I was told my whole life by my old coach that boys are trouble; they ruin gymnasts’ careers.

  Which is why I’ve never had a boyfriend, nor do I want one.

  I have to succeed.

  Chapter Eight

  Sofia

  I’m leaning against a practice beam as Amelia goes through her routine. It’s solid. The difficulty is there, and she can land the skills, but she’s holding back. When she falls out of her triple back handspring series, she slaps her palm to the beam, and I hold up my hand to calm her down. Her face is red, her hair is a mess from where she has run her fingers through it at least ten times, and she looks like she’s on the brink of crying.

  “You’re in your head.”

  She shoots me an infuriated look. “Well, duh, this is a mind fuck.”

  I laugh as I nod. “It is, but you’re way into your head. You think you’re gonna fall before you even give yourself a chance to finish the skill.” I go to her beam, leaning on it as she does the same moves from the other end, landing her trick on the beam in front of me. “It has to be fluid, dude. And you get so worked up that you rush it, and then you’re falling. You become Amelia Justice—hot mess express.”

  She cracks a grin, and I smile before squeezing her wrist. “You know how I do this?”

  “How?”

  “I just do.”

  “Oh my God, why don’t I just do that?” she says sarcastically, and I laugh.

  “No, I don’t think about it. I just do it. I know the motions. I know what I have to do. I don’t break it down. I don’t even really think about it. I just do it.”

  Her brows come in. “Oh, how wonderful it must be to be a robot.” She then starts to move like a robot, teasing me. “I am Sofia. I can’t do wrong. I move the way I am supposed to and get all tens.”

  I smack her playfully as I laugh from my gut. “Shut up.”

  She gives me a rueful look. “Not everyone is you. Give me something I can work with.”

  “Fine. Maybe I should do to you what my coach did to me.”

  She looks wary. “Which is?”

  “Stand on the other beam and toss shit at you as you do your routine until you ignore everything, even your brain that is telling you to duck. He gave me a black eye once.”

  She blinks as the silence stretches between us. “You do realize he was abusive, right?”

  I shrug. “Yeah, but I got a ten at my first college meet.”

  She thinks that over and then nods. “Hmm, maybe we should do that.”

  Our laughter fills the gym. When she stretches her arms on the beam, my laughter subsides when I see a tear run down her face. “Amelia, it’s okay. You’ll get this.”

  “It hasn’t always been my fucking struggle.”

  “No?”

  “No, and now I hate beam.”

  I nod. “Well, it’s never been my favorite.”

  She swallows hard. “It was my dad’s favorite.”

  My heart aches for her. “Really?”

  “Yeah, he loved watching me on it. He was always in the front row at every competition when he wasn’t at Ryan’s tournaments. When he was, though, my mom would FaceTime him or Skype him.” She looks down at the beam, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. I can tell she doesn’t want to cry in front of me; she probably feels weak like I do. “He hated vault. Bars and floor were okay, but when I was on beam, he said he held his breath. His heart would pound ’cause he was excited for me but also freaked the hell out.” When Amelia’s lips start to wobble, I take her wrist in my hand again, squeezing it. “He was always so proud of me.”

  “He had a reason to be. Am, you’re amazing.”

  Her lips quirk. “I’m not a robot like you.”

  I chuckle because I know she means it as a joke. But little does she know, being a robot isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

  “I think that’s why I struggle so much with it. Ya know?”

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice cracking. “When my mom’s MS was diagnosed, it came out of nowhere, and it knocked me off my game, big-time. I think I fell off the beam and the bar at least once a practice.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Once a practice, you poor robot.”

  I smack her once more as she laughs, but another tear rolls down her beautiful face. “But really, Am, I get it. This sport is a mind fuck. Plus, it’s only been three years, right?”

  She nods, her tears shining on her cheeks. “Yeah.”

  “That’s still raw.”

  “But I feel like I’m letting him down.”

  I pull her into my arms, the best I can with the beam between us. “No way! He is cheering loudly for you in heaven, and he wants to see you do it in a meet.” I whisper in her ear, “You can do it. I know you can.”

  She whimpers against my shoulder. “I can.”

  “You can,” I say, squeezi