Abi and the Boy Who Lied Read online

  I shook my head, remembering him going on morning runs with me behind Denise’s back. My heart ached at his story. I wanted his words to be true. It would explain so much, take away so much pain from how we came together—and stayed apart.

  “Abi...” He waited for me to look at him, and when I did, he reached into his pocket and removed a thin golden ring set with blue stones.

  I stared at him, open-mouthed.

  “It’s a promise ring,” he said. “I’m sorry for how I acted when I was afraid. But I’m not afraid anymore, not of us. I want college to be a new start for us, and I want you to know, no matter what, I’m all in.”

  I slipped it on, and as I stared into the glittering stones, I couldn’t help but see that I wore Jon’s heart, right on my finger.

  Chapter Twenty

  I’d changed my outfit twice since waking up, and it was only eight in the morning. My hair was already frizzing, and I’d put more eyeliner on one eye than the other, making me look permanently winky no matter how much I tried to fix the situation.

  Anika had left half an hour earlier, having an early class, and this room still wasn’t big enough to hold all my angst.

  Three knocks sounded on my door, and I checked to see who was on the other side.

  Jon stood there, freshly showered, gorgeous, and as if he wasn’t perfect enough, he was holding two cups of coffee.

  I swung the door open to the welcome sight, giving him a frazzled grin.

  “Thought you might need a little pick-me-up,” he said.

  I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Then what’s the coffee for?”

  He chuckled low and handed me a cup. “Cinnamon and honey, just like you like it.”

  I took it and stood back in front of the mirror, then eyed the shorts and T-shirt I had on my bed. Did jeans and a nice blouse on the first day of classes say I was trying too hard? Would I sweat too much on the walk?

  Jon took my free hand and pulled me close. “Stop overthinking it.” His lips found mine in a soft kiss. “You look amazing.”

  I tugged at my shirt. “Are you sure? I—”

  “Abi.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re perfect.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. More like I wouldn’t argue when we could be kissing instead. So that’s exactly what I did.

  He groaned against my lips. “Abi, we have to go to class.”

  “Fine,” I whined. I had to give myself some distance, so I grabbed my bag and keys and followed him into the hallway.

  A few girls slipped by us, and I caught their eyes following the lean lines of Jon’s body. The hallway turned red, just for a moment. Until I could take a breath and remember he was my boyfriend. No one else’s.

  We walked together out of the building, holding hands until we had to go separate ways. Him to philosophy, me to an intro communications class. As our fingers slipped apart, he said, “I’ll see you at practice tonight.”

  My lips twitched, despite the nerves brewing in my gut. “See you then.”

  The classroom building loomed before me, all brick and hard edges. I stared up at it, trying not to look as lost as I felt in front of all the other students passing by.

  Next to me, I heard a couple of girls in running shorts and baggy sorority T-shirts laughing about how all the freshmen had dressed up. I tugged at my blouse, wishing I’d gone with the other outfit. But I couldn’t change now.

  I passed through the doors, hitching my thumbs through the straps of my backpack. The room numbers didn’t make sense—237 was at one end of the hall and 239 at the complete opposite side. What “educated” person had designed this?

  When I finally made it to the room, the professor was already talking. She gave me a pointed look and handed me a syllabus.

  “Now,” she said, turning back to the class, “would be a great time to cover the section on punctuality.”

  If I could disappear into the ugly blue carpet, I would. Instead, I attempted to simultaneously find a seat and not make eye contact with anyone. The only open chairs were right up front. I slid into one and leaned over to get my notebook, letting my hair cover my face.

  Great start, Abi.

  But then someone else came into the classroom. I wasn’t the only person who’d been a little lost.

  I kept my eyes down as whoever it was took the open seat next to me.

  “Hey,” he whispered, even though we were right up front.

  I peeked at him through my hair, seeing bright blue eyes and the same wavy brown hair from move-in day. I couldn’t help the eye-roll that followed. Just my luck.

  “What’s your problem?” he asked, smirking.

  I cleared my mind of his eyes and the way his lips turned up at the corners, leaving a dimple in his left cheek. “Yellow bug? Move-in day?”

  He looked puzzled.

  Was he playing dumb or actually stupid? “You cut me off in the drop-off line?”

  “Technically, that was my cousin,” he whispered. “I’m Eric.”

  The professor cleared her throat. “And now the syllabus section about disrupting class.”

  Eric’s cheeks went red as he faced forward. I realized I should be doing the same.

  A couple of minutes later, though, a slip of paper landed on my desk.

  His phone number.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I didn’t know why, but I kept the note. I slipped it in the front pocket of my backpack and carried it around with me all day, feeling guilty about doing so but excited to have it.

  What was wrong with me?

  Maybe it was because he’d actually seen me when this campus seemed designed to promote anonymity. Classrooms with hundreds of students, sidewalks separated with “lanes,” people constantly walking with their headphones in and heads down.

  In high school, I’d always felt like there was a giant, flashing bully-me arrow pointing straight at my head, and I had to work to be invisible. Here, I blended into the sea of girls in their too-short shorts and guys who made speed walking to classes a sport.

  Aside from Eric and the professor’s pointed comments, no one seemed to notice me the entire day. When I finally set my backpack down in my dorm to change into clothes for practice, the number had me wound so tightly, I wished he had never given it to me. Almost.

  I used the walk to the training center to try and clear my mind. Music by Dorian Gray filled my earbuds, soft chords filling my mind. My thoughts turned to track and everything I could accomplish, doing it with Jon at my side just like I’d dreamed. Jon always made a good distraction—the perfect obsession.

  As I approached the indoor track, getting in the zone became easier. I’d been practicing, training, for a year now. I loved the way running and eating a healthier diet had transformed my body into something strong and capable. When Jon wasn’t available, when he was with Denise, running was always there. My diet and new healthy lifestyle were there. Even if Jon realized he could do better, I would have this. This center, the facility, the team, was the piece of home I was most excited to bring with me.

  “Abi!” Jon yelled. “Abi!” From the tone of his voice, I could tell he’d been trying to get my attention for a little while.

  I pulled out an earbud and turned to see him jogging toward me. I smiled at him as he crossed the last several feet and took me in his arms, squeezing me. “It’s weird not having any classes with you,” he said.

  I smiled up at him. “How was your day?”

  He let go of me and shrugged. “I’ll let you know after practice.”

  Nerves bubbled inside me as I wrapped up my earbuds and put my phone in my pocket. I had no idea what to expect from the first track practice—or any practice for that matter. If the workouts from the summer were any indication, they’d be grueling and on the verge of torturous.

  “Want to get supper afterwards?” he asked. “Lick our wounds?”

  I nodded. “One wound-licking date, coming up.”

  We quieted at the door as
we joined the group of athletes. Our coaches began the practice by separating the girls’ and boys’ teams and going over rules for the season. We had to sign a code of conduct agreement.

  Coach Cadence laid out how the rest of the week would go, with weight training every other day at the crack of dawn and long runs for the distance runners in the evenings. Then she told us we had to make an appointment with the athletic nutritionist.

  My eyes lit up. I’d been going off of tips learned online and in Grandma’s magazines for the last year. I couldn’t wait to get actual personalized advice.

  And then they gave us more gear than I knew what to do with. Collegiate branded shorts, T-shirts, tennis shoes, jackets, heavy winter coats, water bottles, even headbands.

  My eyes widened at the spread. I’d never owned so much name-brand clothing. I couldn’t wait to feel the way the fabric would ripple over my skin, feather soft.

  All that excitement left when Coach Cadence told us to get on the line of the big indoor football field and start running. She worked us, running line after line, until my legs could hardly carry me anymore. The other girls there were athletic, more so than me, and even they looked about ready to fall over.

  When Coach finally told us we could go home, I was worried I wouldn’t make it the entire way. I picked up my bag and started walking toward the door on shaking legs.

  “Abi,” she called in her heavy Ethiopian accent.

  I waited for her to walk to me, because there was no way I’d log extra steps, not right now.

  She gave me an approving nod. “Good work today. I see what Coach Rodham saw in you at that meet.”

  My heart lifted at her affirmation. “Really?”

  She smiled, white teeth shining against her beautiful dark skin. “We have a lot of work to do, but we’ll get you there. Make sure to eat a good meal and ice up. Okay?”

  “I will,” I said.

  Her words gave me a strange blend of buoyancy and pressure. What did she mean that we had a lot of work to do? Would I be dragging the team down? Was that just a nice way of telling me not to get my hopes up?

  I wished something else could distract me. That was, until I saw a letter on my desk next to a sticky note from Anika that said she had picked up our mail.

  This letter wasn’t forwarded, but addressed to me, at my new address. No return label. This one was stamped from Austin.

  With shaking hands, I opened it and looked at the now-familiar block lettering.

  You can’t outrun everything.

  My heart sped, along with my breathing. Thank God Anika wasn’t here to see me fall apart as I ran to the door and made sure it was locked, panic making every part of me shake. What was going on? Who was this and how had they gotten my new address?

  I fell into my desk chair, no longer able to stand on trembling ankles. The only people I’d sent my address to were Grandma and my friends in the group text.

  I grasped at my straw of hope that this was just an ongoing prank. And not a very funny one.

  My fingers rattled against my phone screen as I thumbed out a text to the friend group.

  Abi: I’m bored. Anyone been up to any pranks lately?

  It was meant to sound like a joking conversation starter. I didn’t want Jon to know or ask what had me riled up. After tonight’s practice, I honestly didn’t have the energy for long, drawn-out conversations or speculations that got us nowhere and left me even more terrified.

  A few bubbles popped up on the screen.

  Michele: Nope.

  Evan: What’s a prank?

  Andrew: None that you’d want to know about. ;) Definitely none in the community shower.

  Skye: Shut up Andrew!

  Frank: You go man!

  Macy: Can we start a girls-only chat?

  Frank: Can I watch?

  Leanne: Grow up.

  Stormy: What she said.

  Andrew: Can we revisit Frank’s text?

  I sighed and sent Stormy a text in our own chat.

  Abi: Hey, I know we were going to talk tonight, but I’m not feeling up to it. Rough practice. Talk to you tomorrow?

  I didn’t wait for her answer before turning off my phone and putting it in my desk drawer, along with the letter. Coach Cadence had said to eat well tonight, but I couldn’t imagine adding anything to the acid brewing in my stomach. Instead, I killed the lights, crawled up to my bunk with weak limbs, and curled under my covers until darkness shut out every thought and fear and ache I had.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anika’s alarm clock woke me the next morning, and thank God it had because I had fifteen minutes to get across campus to the training center for a weightlifting session. Coach had gone over what would happen if we were late, and it was exponentially more unpleasant than practice the night before.

  I opened the door to find Jon racing down the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He gasped out a breath. “You’re going to be late. I was worried you’d slept in.”

  “No, I didn—” Then it hit me. Jon and I were supposed to eat supper together last night in the dining hall to talk about practice. I’d totally blown him off. “Jon, I’m so sorry about last night.”

  He batted away my comment, then grabbed my hand and started down the hallway. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

  “Really,” I said, not ready to let it drop. My legs protested right along with me—for different reasons—but soon my muscles loosened up.

  He chuckled, his arms working at his sides. “I came by and Anika let me in. You were out.” He laughed again. “You’re a loud snorer, by the way.”

  My cheeks warmed, even though I had more to be embarrassed about than Jon hearing me snoring. But still. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

  He turned his head toward me, waggling his eyebrows. “In the community showers?”

  Even running, I managed to hit his arm, to which he laughed.

  “You’re just as bad as they are,” I accused.

  “I never said I wasn’t.”

  We jogged into the weight room, then headed to different ends of the rows and rows of equipment with our teams. I’d never seen so many weight plates, benches, or squat racks before in my life. To be fair, my extent of exercise was pretty limited to bodyweight movements.

  Coach Cadence had the distance runners move through a series of lifts she said would keep our muscles toned and give us what we needed to be strong in the final stretches of races. That translated to a series of lifts that made it impossible to put my arms over my head or stand without staggering to my feet.

  “Holy shit,” the girl next to me muttered, hanging her head over her knees and then sitting on a weight bench.

  “Right?” I considered sitting next to her but thought better of it. If I sat down, I wouldn’t be able to stand up again.

  She turned her head back and up to face me, revealing her bright red skin and shining nose ring. “You’re Abi, right?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, feeling guilty I didn’t know her name yet.

  “Nikki,” she offered.

  I smiled. Or did something in the family. How had lifting made my face tired too?

  This was the part of meeting people that always felt the most awkward. Most people started with boring things—hometown, major, “fun” fact. And of course everyone immediately forgot that meaningless information anyway. I wanted to know something real about Nikki, but I didn’t know how to ask.

  “You up for an ice bath?” she asked.

  I thought of Jon telling me about it over the summer. It didn’t sound any more appealing now than it had then. But I’d do anything to make this ache go away. “Will it make me feel better?”

  She snorted, making her nose ring wiggle. “Hell yeah.”

  “Sign me up.”

  She told me to meet her at the entrance to my residence hall after supper that evening, to which I happily agreed.

  Jon found me on the way out, and we star
ted walking—slowly—to our dorm rooms together.

  “We good for supper tonight? Or are you having a big bowl of snore soup again?” he teased.

  I gave him a weak shove.

  “And for dessert, maybe some s’nores?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re harshing my mallow.”

  He buried his face in my shoulder and wiggled his nose side to side, right against the ticklish spot on my collarbone.

  “Stop,” I cried. “Laughing hurts my abs.”

  To which he laughed.

  And I laughed more. Until it hurt even more.

  When the giggles subsided, I said, “Yes, I’m good for supper.”

  “So.” Jon rubbed his neck. That was his tell when he was nervous about something. It set me on edge.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, one of the guys on the team invited everyone out tonight. Team bonding.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me permission?”

  “What?” He shook his head. “No, I mean, maybe? Is it okay? I told them I would see what you were doing first.”

  My stomach sank while my heart lifted. Why did I feel both pleased and rejected at the same time? Maybe because I could tell how much he wanted to go.

  I had plans too, I reminded myself. “That’s fine. I’m actually hanging out with one of the girls from the team.”

  Jon’s lips spread in a grin. “Really?”

  “Are you really that surprised someone would want to hang out with me?” I was only partly joking.

  “No, I mean, of course not. I just knew you were worried about making friends.”

  I was such a jerk. “I’m sorry. I’m just...tired.” And stressed. And scared. I glanced over my shoulder, just to make sure no one was following us. Or had overheard my plans for later.

  His brows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

  Forcing a smile, I nodded.

  We were getting close to the dorms anyway.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said and kissed his cheek.

  Anything that was going on with me could wait. It wasn’t worth ruining that perfect smile and making that troubled look cross his eyes.