But the more I saw it, the more it actually looked…cool.
Still, my stomach twisted.
Because if any of them knew how much my hand still hurt, how much every movement still sent pain shooting up my arm, they wouldn’t be cheering.
They’d be worried.
Or worse. They’d start doubting.
“Eeek!”
I turned almost immediately.
A basketball narrowly missed Sydney as she tried to squeeze through the hallway, like she was physically trying to shrink herself.
Her cheeks were red, her sleeves pulled high up her hands, it almost looked like a cocoon.
I almost scoffed.
“...and then this guy’s like betting on every loss with the confidence of a drunk bull—” Aaron’s voice faded into the background.
The guys burst into laughter. But I barely heard any of it.
Because I found myself wondering if Sydn
