I couldn't get her off my mind.

  The whole night after I dropped her home the day before, I kept thinking about her. If it hadn't been for her friend stuttering out her address, I would have kept her with me.

  My reflection was already bored of me; it pointed out the dark circles under my eyes, the freckles across the bridge of my nose, and my pale cheekbones. At least I managed to style my hair into a quiff. I opted for ordinary denim jeans and a black shirt—nothing too fancy for the first day at Wisconsin High.

  I needed to clear my mind.

  The way she looked at me after tying her hair with her sparkly, round caramel eyes and that dreamy smile—it was driving me crazy.

  Damn it. I couldn't shake it off.

  It frustrated me as I slung my football bag over my shoulder, containing my old jersey for good luck and my running shoes. I had to get through this first day of practice.

  "Axe, breakfast is ready," Mom called out.

  "I'm not hungry," I replied curtly as I came downstairs. I avoided her gaze, struggling to look her in the eye, and headed straight for the door.

  "But you haven't eaten."

  "Forget it, Mom."

  "You know we need to talk someday," she yelled.

  "Not today," I shouted back before I slammed the front door and headed for the car.

  I tightened my grip on the steering wheel once the flashbacks of mom sleeping with another man on my dad's death anniversary flickered through my mind, making my skin prickle. I had to pull over as my stomach lurched, but there was nothing.

  It was only the third year since he was gone.

  There were other things she could get her feelings out with, it didn't have to be a dick.

  Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I willed them away by closing my eyes and breathing slowly through my nose, a habit my old therapist taught me. My hands shook with rage, but the feeling would subside if I thought of other things. I couldn't be late on the first day of senior year.

  Happy thoughts, only happy thoughts.

  Images from last night replayed in my mind—carrying her back to her small home in Bayfield, adorned with flowers on either side of the cobblestone walkway.

"Oh, dear," a middle-aged man said as he opened the door. He had the same eye color as her and greeted me with a friendly smile. "I don't have muscles like you do, young man. Could you carry her up to her room?"

  "Sure," I replied awkwardly with a smile as he led me upstairs. She nestled closer to my shirt, clutching me tightly.

  "Mom," she kept whispering in her sleep, her red-tinted cheeks moving slightly. Her eyelashes rested comfortably on her high cheekbones.

  She was light in my arms, her soft hair cascading down as the hair tie slipped off when I laid her on the creamy wooden bed. Her hand brushed mine before she placed it under her head.

  I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, even though I knew her dad wouldn't appreciate it.

  "Thank you," he said sincerely when we returned to the entrance.

  I felt compelled to say something nice. "You have a lovely walkway." It was the only thing I could think to say. I'd never had much experience with dads, but the admiration in his eyes was clear.

  "Thank you. It was created by my special daughter."

  I managed a strained smile and didn't realize I had arrived at school just in time. Brady greeted me, wrapping an arm around my neck. "Ow, Brady! Stop it," I grunted as he put me in a headlock.

  "Hey man, how are we feeling about our first practice?" He asked with his usual sly smirk. I didn't understand how he could be so upbeat after people trashed his place and he downed half the alcohol yesterday. It was the only trait that set us apart. "We both made the team, and we're going to rock this year," he cheered as people cleared a path for us through the double doors.

  "We need to get our priorities straight, Brady. We can't lose a single game," I said.

  "Of course, we're going all out against the Lions. The other teams are weak anyway," Alex said dismissively as we reached our lockers. "What's up with you and Brooke?" he asked, looking at me.

  "We decided to break up."

  More like I decided. She just complained about how I broke her heart and stormed off in her Jimmy Choo heels—more like stomped off in those expensive shoes.

  But nobody needed to know that.

  "About time. She was annoying with all the Axel banners and her cheerful attitude," Alex said, mimicking her cheerleading moves.

  Brady and Alex laughed heartily as my gaze settled on the petite figure with a warm smile, holding her plant.