Right Before The End | BOOK #4 IN THE PSU SERIES

Twenty-Nine

"I don't want to forgive him."

Which was the truth. I didn't want to forgive him. I mean, I knew that somehow and somewhere down the line he was going to weasel his way into excuse after excuse telling me why he left, but I just had to stand strong and not give in.

No matter how good the reasoning is.

"Oh for fucks sake, I know you're still in love with the kid. I know you're going to forgive him!" He slapped his arms down to his sides, annoyance writing clear as the night sky all over his face.

I rolled my eyes. "I am not still in love with him, have a little faith in me at least." The last few words that tumbled out of my mouth came out only as a mutter. It was late and he had to go to bed.

I thought he was having pregame jitters. Never did I think he would call me down out of my dorm room at one in the morning to give me a brotherly lecture about his old friend.

"Sage–" He looked into my eyes deeply. He was serious when he spoke next. "You learned French for him! I know you are fucking weird and you like being studious but you spent an entire summer learning french so you could read magazines about him."

He looked me up and down.

"Slater, why are you here? You have a game tomorrow and you're here to lecture me?" I started to turn on the balls of my feet but he stopped me.

"Exactly. My first game is tomorrow– you– have–got–to–get–him–to–leave." He made different hand motions for his words that he enunciated very thoroughly and precisely. I furrowed my eyebrows before groaning.

"Are you serious right now? You want me to go and talk to him to get him to leave– so you could play a game with a stupid football? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound?" I whisper yell.

He shook his head. "Sage, you aren't listening. Please– you have to get him to leave. I can't risk–" He stopped speaking, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

I went to pressure him to finish his sentence but he turned around to leave. "I'm going home to get some rest. Make him cry if you see him tomorrow. Please. I love you."

He sat down inside the car before driving off. He didn't even stay long enough for me to tell him that I loved him too and that I hoped everything was okay. Something was not okay. What the hell was his issue?

When I woke up the second time that morning, I woke up to Rory banging on the wall. "It's game day bestie– you hear that? Game day! Get the fuck up! It's game day!" I covered my ears with my hands and squeezed my eyes so tightly together that I thought I was going to go permanently blind.

"Aurora it's–" I turned to face the clock, my mouth dropped open when I read the time. "Nine in the morning. What person do you know get's ready at nine in the morning for a football game!" I yelled.

She shrugged, smiling brightly in her blue Penn state pajama outfit that I was sure it was made of top-of-the-line silk. She skipped over to my bed before jumping up and laying near my feet. "Your mom and Sloane told me all about their game day traditions. I think it's time that the both of us carry on those tr–"

"Absolutely not," I answered.

She frowned. "But why not?"

"Glitter does not look good on me and neither does a beer and pizza gut." I sat up, propping myself up against my pillows. With a sad look on her face, she shrugged, "It's nine in the morning. What about if we don't drink beer the entire day–"

"Another thing I was taught. You don't drink the beer that people give you. In fact– don't drink anything that people give you at parties, Rory. That's why we have something called a cupboard with my– our– drinks in it at my brother's house. Not to mention, they all have a huge alcohol stash in Drew's room."