Hannah Adam's world revolves around ballet. It's the one constant in her life, and she's never strayed from her path. So when she's unexpectedly transferred to her best friend's high school midway through the year, she's determined to keep a low pro...
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•Rhys pov•
My entire body aches as I climb out of my car. Every muscle screams at me to get back in and take a nap instead of dragging myself to my lessons.
But I don't cave, I focus on the only thought that has motivated me to attend all my lessons over the past week.
That I might see a glimpse of her.
Just because I've successfully avoided any one-on-one interactions in an attempt to minimize the control she has over my mind doesn't mean I claim to have been successful in that attempt.
Somehow, even down the hallway from me, she manages to weasel her way in. One moment I'm thinking about training, the next I'm wondering if she has ballet today? Does she have a ride home? Who is that ride?
It's fucking annoying.
Luckily—or unluckily—thanks to my dad, when I'm not at school or at training, all I think about is football. He makes fucking sure of it.
For someone who conveniently never had time for me growing up, now has all the time in the world to lecture me about everything, down to the drills I focus on, to macronutrients that I should be eating more of.
I've never eaten so much brown rice in my life. I think Mum is also tired of this "diet"; there are only so many ways you can cook rice and chicken.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" Noah asked to join me as I walked inside.
"Nothing."
"Does this sour mood have anything to do with your dad being in town?" he pushes, without hesitation.
I pause briefly, trying to remember if I told him about that or not. "How do you know that?" I ask.
"I was guessing, but based on your reaction, I'm going to assume I was right." Don't get me wrong, I think Noah's full of shit most of the time, but he has his moments that remind me he's probably smarter than all of us.
Too bad he hasn't yet figured out how to apply his school smarts to other areas of his life.
"How long is he here for?" he asks when I don't elaborate.
"That's what I'm fucking asking," I groan. At first, he was only supposed to stay a few days, and he had an "important" meeting he refused to miss. The day before he was scheduled to leave, it got cancelled, then the next one, and the next one.
Now he's here for a few weeks. Isn't that just grand?
"That's shitty, man," Noah states, "you can always crash at my place," he adds.
While I appreciate the offer, I need to stay focused. As much as I hate my dad's daily lectures, I do see improvement when I stay consistent in my extra training.
