Friday night, and the Blackwood Academy gymnasium was packed.
I stood outside the entrance, wearing Kai's jersey over a pair of dark jeans, and tried to convince myself I could do this.
The building practically vibrated with energy students cheering, music blaring, the squeak of sneakers on polished wood.
Sophie appeared beside me, linking her arm through mine. "Ready?"
"Not even a little bit."
She'd barely spoken to me since our conversation on Tuesday, but she'd texted this morning offering to sit with me at the game. An olive branch I desperately needed.
"Just so you know," Sophie said as we walked toward the entrance, "sitting courtside at Kai Thornton's game wearing his jersey is basically a declaration of war against every girl who's ever wanted him."
"Great. That's exactly what I need."
"Hey." She stopped me, her expression serious. "I know you're not telling me everything. But I've got your back anyway. That's what friends do."
My throat tightened. "Thank you."
