Chapter 59

With Joseph’s words looming over me, I could help the dark cloud of emotions that clung to me throughout the next week. At least, with some rest, my body seemed to recover, and without the brutal practices, I made it through my days without being so exhausted.

Avoiding both Asher and Joseph, I continued my regular routine, attending classes and practices, and studying for the midterms coming up.

In the last history class before the midterm exam, the professor reviewed study materials. He gave me two study guides, one for Aimee.

Across the room, her seat remained empty.

I was running out of time to convince her. The history midterm exam was the following week.

I walked back to the dorm with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I felt a failure.

I’d cost the cheerleading squad the gold medal, embarrassed myself in front of Asher by wanting him too much, ruined my chances with Joseph by chasing Asher, and still couldn’t track down Aimee.

Maybe there wasn’t anything I could do right.

Miserable, in my room, I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

No, I couldn’t let myself succumb to the gloom. Things were bad at this moment, but that didn’t mean they would always be.

Asher didn’t hate me, things were just awkward right now. And Joseph would likely forgive me if I apologized properly. The cheer squad… Well, I’d find some way to make it up to them.

That just left Aimee.

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine myself in her position. It wasn’t too hard.

What had Joseph called me?

Whore. Used goods.

No one would truly understand how those words cut, especially from the father of my child.

No one, perhaps, except someone who had lived a similar experience.

Maybe my inability to connect with Aimee was related to the fact that I shrouded myself in so much secrecy. Of course she wouldn’t trust me.

If I wanted to gain her trust, I had to give something of myself in return.

What could I give but my truth?

I opened my fake social media account, found the message thread with Aimee that I had considered abandoned, and began to type.

Aimee. Maybe we can talk for real. The truth is, I’m a pregnant teen myself. And I’m terrified of what happened to you.

I clicked send before I could regret it. Maybe it was cowardly of me to hide my truth behind my fake profile, but I hoped it would be enough. If I exposed myself for real, I don’t think I could handle it.

She didn’t reply right away so I continued about my day. I was eating lunch at my desk when a new message came through.

Aimee’s reply.

I’m sorry. Is the father in the picture?

Hope sprung in my chest. Not only had she replied, but she had included a question, presumably to begin a conversation!

I answered.

We’ve agreed to co-parent but it’s complicated. I want a family for the baby but sometimes I’m not sure if he’s the right one to be a part of it.

My own honesty surprised me. Maybe it was the mask of anonymity that gave me strength. Or maybe it was the relief of finally talking to someone who could understand my perspective.

Almost as an afterthought, I tacked on my own question.

What about you? What happened to the father?

I waited for a while, when finally her reply came through.

My shame was not his burden to bear. Brent kept his distance as he should have done. I never should have let things go so far.

I frowned at her message. Last I checked, making a baby took two people. The father was just as responsible as she was.

My anger flared on her behalf. How dare this… Brent attempt to pile all judgement on her alone!

Before I could reply, another message from Aimee pinged on my phone.

He was always too good for me. If your man wants to stay in your life, don’t let him go. Don’t regret like I do.

Too good for her…? The man who abandoned her?

I quickly typed an answering message.

You deserve better than someone who would leave you to face everything alone.

Her reply came too quickly.

No one is better than Brent.

I didn’t know what to say to Aimee after that. When she didn’t reply either, I let it go for now.

My interest was piqued, however, about this mysterious Brent. Who was this man who Aimee loved so diligently, even after he abandoned her like trash?

Opening the Academy’s registrar once again, I searched for Brent. There were a few in the school, though only one that matched the description Aimee’s old friend had given me about Aimee’s ex.

He was living in an athletes’ dorm. Not the same one as Asher and Joseph, but nearby, of a similar prestige, if not slightly lesser.

I scribbled down his info.

With Asher’s permission, I had access to his dorm, but I doubted the superintendents would approve of me wandering the halls of Brent’s, with no one to back me up.

Heart fluttering, I knew that if I wanted to potentially meet Brent, I had to ask Asher for his help.

That would mean swallowing down by embarrassment and facing him again.

It shouldn’t be so hard, maybe. After all, by now, I was fairly used to humiliating myself, craving Asher’s attention.

Maybe, like before, he wouldn’t bring it up and we could pretend it didn’t happen.

He was kind to me in that way.

Looking at my phone, I resolved myself. Aimee needed my help to recover from her past and see the future again.

I wasn’t about to let a little embarrassment stop me.

Later, I walked into Asher’s dorm with confident, determined strides. I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. Someone walking down the hall mentioned to me that Asher might be in the lounge.

I headed there, then stopped just inside the wide doorway.

Asher was there, chatting with some other athletes. He spotted me and waved me over.

Most of the athletes of the dorm were used to me by now, often at Asher’s side. They treated me well enough, or ignored me entirely, which was also fine with me.

A couple of unknowns stood with him now though, mixed in with the rest, including a wiry guy on his left. He was thin and handsome with blond hair and a toothy smile. A sharpness hung in his eyes though, especially looking at Asher.

He watched Asher very closely, mimicking his movements. He couldn’t replicate Asher’s expressions though, since Asher revealed none.

“I’m almost done here,” Asher said to me when I came to his side. “I’d like to talk to you. Do you mind waiting a minute?”

“Take your time,” I said.

“Come on, Brent,” one of the other athletes said, speaking with the blond. “I’m surprised you haven’t moved up in the rankings.”

I stiffened at once. Asher noticed, eyeing me.

“I’ll get there soon enough.” Brent laughed a bit too hard. A tightness formed at his mouth. “You all better watch your backs. Nothing will get in my way from winning it all.”

I openly frowned at Brent.

This was Aimee’s perfect man?

He looked at Asher again, and I could see it now. The greed in his gaze.

He wanted something from Asher.

But what?