Preston: You can tell dad I said yes.
Charlie: But I didn’t even ask.
Preston: The walls in this house are paper thin and I heard you guys.
Charlie: Does this mean we’re talking again?
Preston: I don’t know yet.
Well, I’d take it for now. Although, I hoped Pres and I would sit down soon and work through everything because this talking through text messages was getting old. I sent a quick message to Daria.
4:54 PM
Charlie: Are you going to the game tonight?
She sent me three side-eye emojis before typing a response.
Daria: Obviously.
Charlie: Will you pick me up?
Daria: You’re going????
What was that supposed to mean?
Charlie: Well…shouldn’t I?
Daria: It’ll be weird, won’t it?
Charlie: Can I ride with you or not?
Daria: I’ll be there at 6:45.
Charlie: Thanks! You’re the best!!
Daria: I know.
I smiled at the screen, thankful for the friend who seemed to be there for me through thick and thin, even when I acted a little flaky.
Since I was completely caught up on my assignments, that meant I had way too much time on my hands to freak out about what I wore to the game that night. I had two hours before Daria would pick me up and an entire closet to go through. Before jumping into what was sure to be the most stressful task of the week, I scrolled through my old messages.
I opened the thread for Jackson and my texts. The last thing he’d sent me was “you won’t have to worry about seeing me ever again.” But that wasn’t true. The stars kept aligning to make sure we saw each other again. First at the party, and now tonight.
The only thing left to worry about was how he would react when it happened.
I settled on a yellow sweater and jeans, purposefully choosing a color that wouldn’t be considered cheering for either team. Preston raised his eyebrows at me as we sat down for a quick dinner, but still didn’t say a word to me beyond “Charlie, pass the salt.”
I wished I knew what he was thinking every time he looked at me, but he kept his expression frustratingly blank. But it was fine.
I was going to the game.
I was going to make things right.
I just wasn’t exactly sure how yet.
After eating, Preston raced out the door with a “good luck,” from our dad. Daria showed up at my house about twenty minutes later. She waited in the car as I said goodbye to my parents.
“I still can’t believe he told you it was okay to go to the game. I was positive that was going to work,” my dad said, as he shook his head.
I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “It’ll be fine.”
“Your mother and I hate seeing you two fight like this. I hope going to this game will somehow make things better.”
I walked backward toward the front door as I shrugged at him. “Look at it this way, things can’t get worse, right?”
My dad took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Have a good time, Charlie-bear.”
“Thanks, Dad! Love you!”
I bounded out the front door and down the driveway to where Daria parked. Her SUV was covered in an excessive amount of shoe-polish school spirit. In green and orange, she’d written “Go Mountaineers!” on the back windshield. On one side, she’d drawn some misshapen basketballs, and on the other, she’d written: “Kill the Bears!”
Not that she was anti-wildlife or anything—just anti-Pinebrook.
Our two schools delighted in the Mountaineer/Bear rivalry. There was no doubt in my mind that we’d see “Maul the Mountaineers” on at least one vehicle in the parking lot.
“Are you seriously wearing yellow to the game?” Daria asked as I got into the passenger seat.
I shrugged as I put my seatbelt on. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Hmm. You go to Rosemark, you play for Rosemark, your brother and all your friends go to Rosemark. I kinda thought you’d be wearing orange and green.” She waved a hand at her green sweater and orange party beads around her neck before she started driving toward the school.
“What about Jackson?”
“You mean the boy you haven’t talked to in weeks?”
I opened my mouth to explain, but she waved her hand at me and shushed me loudly.
“Charlie, I’ve heard it a million times.” She stopped and sighed. “Yeah, you guys kissed. And yeah, you like him. But it’s not like you two were even dating. Even if you were, I’d expect you to wear your Rosemark colors.”
I leaned back, enjoying the heated seats in her top-of-the-line vehicle. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right, silly. And I know you, which is why I also packed an extra sweater.” She hitched her thumb toward the back of her vehicle.
I twisted around to look where she was pointing and saw the bright orange hoodie folded on the seat behind me. I stared at her with wide eyes. “Where did you find that?”
Daria shrugged. “Walmart. And as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.”
“Why not you?”
She managed to look in my direction long enough to raise her brows dramatically. “With this blonde hair? Don’t be dumb.”
The erupting laughter that came from my mouth surprised me. It had been too long since I’d joked around with Daria—or anyone for that matter. After weeks of wallowing in self-pity, I’d forgotten what it felt like to just have fun with my best friend.
And the fact that she was still by my side through my funk made me realize how great of a friend she really was.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking with the two words.
“Wow. Who knew tacky hoodies made you so emotional?”
“I mean for being my friend.”
“Charlie, you’re like a sister to me. And I know Preston already nabbed the non-blood sibling title from me—not that I’m bitter or anything,” she said with mock sharpness.
“You can totally be my sister.”
“Good. But I said that because I know this last month or so has been pretty horrible, and like a sister, I’m happy to support you through it.”
“Which is amazing since my actual sibling is the cause of so much of it.”
Daria didn’t respond. Instead, she shook her head as I watched her in my peripheral.
“Spit it out,” I said, knowing there was something else she wanted to say but was too afraid.
She swallowed. “Have you considered this might not be entirely Preston’s fault?”
“Huh?”
“Just hear me out,” she said in a rush. “I know he’s got this whole thing with your Romeo, but maybe if you’d just talked to him in the very beginning, it wouldn't have been so bad.”
“You mean, maybe he wouldn’t have hated him as much?” I snorted. The idea was laughable.
“No. I’m not saying that. What I mean is…maybe if you’d given Pres a chance to warm up to the idea of you talking to Jackson at Helping Hands, instead of him catching you making out at Sammi’s, he would have reacted differently.”
“Think about it,” she continued. “Your brother was all charged up after seeing Anderson humiliate you. I’m sure he already wanted to break something before he saw you kissing his enemy. Then you just ran away, and you two got grounded, and things just continued to escalate.”
“But that doesn’t mean he would have reacted any better if I had told him sooner,” I countered, trying to refrain from pouting.
Daria lifted her shoulders as she pulled into the lot and parked next to another car decorated in anti-Pinebrook sentiments. “I guess we’ll never know. It’s just something I think you should consider as you deal with Preston.” She paused. “And maybe Jackson.”
“And what makes you think I’ll be ‘dealing with’ Jackson?” I used air quotes as I repeated Daria’s words back to her.
She smirked. “Because you insisted on coming to this gam
e and didn’t wear our school colors. Now, crawl in the back and get dressed really quickly, so we don’t miss tip-off.”
Her tone left no room for argument. I climbed over the center console with all the grace of a drunk sloth, and quickly changed shirts using the cover of her darkly tinted windows. Once I was done, I took a shaky breath and got ready to witness the hot mess that Senior Year Rematch was sure to be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Daria and I walked into the gym about five minutes before the game started. We found a seat in the stands, and I stared down at the court. Cheerleaders from both schools were going through their routines trying to get the crowds excited.
Linzie gave me a scowl as soon as she spotted me. Even in a sea of green and orange, the bright orange hoodie seemed to stand out, making me feel like a bullseye. Sammi also saw me, and a small smile touched her lips for the briefest moment. So small, I was sure I imagined it.
But I didn’t focus on the cheerleaders for long. It was the players just beyond the cheer squad that had my attention.
On one side were the Rosemark Mountaineers in their green jerseys. They were taking advantage of the time before tip-off to work on some pre-game drills. From what I could tell, their coach had them doing four-corner lay-ups. Anderson, Preston, Mackey, and Jeremiah all stood in a square. Anderson passed the ball to Pres, before running over to take his spot. Pres moved to the spot opened up by Mackey who was cutting to the basket. He got the lay-up and ran off the floor.
I watched as they moved quickly. The ball barely touched the floor as they went through the motions like they were second nature.
Soon though, my treacherous eyes found their desired destination on the other side of the court.
On it, were the Pinebrook Bears in their white jerseys with blue accents. They were also doing lay-ups but in a two-line drill. I spotted Jackson quickly. It was easy after hearing Preston complain about number eleven for hours on end.
But even if I hadn’t know Jackson’s jersey number, I still would have recognized him. His brown hair stuck up in several different directions, and I couldn’t help but admire his toned arms on full display with his sleeveless jersey. He faced away from me as he waited in line for his chance to shoot the ball.
As if he could feel my gaze on him, Jackson looked up in the stands. His eyes immediately found mine, and we were suddenly locked in a staring contest. I wasn’t sure what the emotions were behind his intense look, but I knew mine was filled with longing.
I hadn’t realized just how much I missed those green eyes until now, and I willed him to smile at me, so I could see it one last time.
He didn’t, but he also didn’t turn away—not until one of his teammates hit him in the back with the basketball they were using.
Jackson turned toward the guy who’d pelted him, and they exchanged some words. I was way too far away to even guess at what they were saying, but a couple of his teammates looked in my direction. My cheeks heated under their scrutinizing gazes. I quickly turned my head away, but not before I recognized one of the faces.
It was the spiky blond-haired guy from the corn maze—Greyson.
“Whoa,” Daria said from beside me. “That was…intense.”
My face still felt warm from the blush, and I patted my hands against my cheeks. “What do you mean?”
My best friend fanned herself. “Only that your chemistry is truly palatable.”
I shoved her away from me, and she giggled.
“Seriously, Charlie. The way he looked at you. That’s the way every girl dreams of being looked at.”
I turned my head in her direction. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said with a knowing nod and a deep sigh.
I briefly wondered if anyone else noticed, but the sound of the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers. He asked everyone to stand for the national anthem, and soon music from a cheesy soundtrack replaced his voice. The guys from both teams stood on the court with their hands behind their backs, all facing the flag that hung on one side of the gym.
When the music stopped, the starting five from both teams stayed out there, while the rest of the teammates took the bench. Seeing both Preston and Jackson face off against each other stole my breath—and any questions for Daria that had been on the tip of my tongue only moments ago.
One of the referees stood at center court and threw the ball in the air. Pinebrook got possession, and the guy who got the ball dribbled down the court. Everyone followed, but I could only watch the way Preston stuck to Jackson. I held my breath, anxious about what would happen.
Both coaches yelled from the sidelines as Pinebrook attempted to get a basket. The ball bounced off the rim, and Mackey caught it. He drove toward the opposite basket, but my eyes continued to stay glued to Preston and Jackson.
We were barely a minute in, and they were already getting too aggressive. I watched as they elbowed one another. My hands twisted in my lap.
“Girl,” Daria leaned over. “You’re going to have to relax.”
“But they’re going to get fouled out if they’re not careful!”
Almost immediately after I’d spoken the words, the ref was calling a double technical.
I turned to Daria with a smug look. “See?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded, but we quickly directed our attention back to the court.
The game had restarted, but only long enough for the refs to blow the whistle again. This time against Jackson for excessive use of his elbow. A look passed between him and Preston. After that, the aggression didn’t stop, they were just careful not to let the refs see it.
Had they silently agreed to be more cautious in their on-court fighting?
“Yikes,” Daria mumbled from beside me.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
I glanced down at the bench where a few curious players from Rosemark looked up at me. Apparently, it was quite obvious to Preston’s teammates why this game was going so roughly. I slumped down in my spot in the stands. It felt like everyone was staring at me.
As if reading my mind, Daria wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Most people have no idea what’s going on.”
I nodded, and continued to watch the game, hoping she was right.
Pinebrook called a timeout, and both teams jogged over to the benches. My eyes darted back and forth between the huddles of players, as both coaches yelled at their guys like they were going to have a coronary.
I knew exactly how they felt.
When the game started back up, it was mercifully free of fouls from Jackson or Preston.
After the buzzer indicating the end of the first quarter sounded, I could breath again. The guys had gone the rest of the time without fouling each other out. It was possible they were going to be somewhat civil to each other after getting their initial aggression out in those first few minutes.
Thank goodness.
The Rosemark cheerleaders started their routine in the short, two-minute break between quarters. Bright orange pom-poms waved through the air, and Linzie and Sammi were both hoisted above their fellow teammates. They continued to shout at the crowd to get them riled up. Everyone was cheering when the guys went back to center court.
Rosemark was up three points, but Pinebrook had possession. One of the players from Pinebrook threw the ball to Jackson, and that’s when everything went downhill.
Preston went to intercept the pass and pushed Jackson hard—so hard, he ended up skidding on the court. Jackson got up, and with both hands pushed Preston back.
I jumped up in my seat as the ref finally blew the whistle.
The two were cussing and shoving each other completely ignoring the call. I couldn’t make out what Jackson said to Preston over the loud roar of the crowd, but when he pointed in my direction, I knew it was about me.
It was possible I was imagining things when I felt like everyone was staring at me before, but now it was undeniable. The faces of the people next to Daria and me al
l turned in my direction, as well as the players on the Rosemark bench, and the cheerleaders in their orange and green. Not to mention the guys from Pinebrook who stood near to where Jackson and Preston continued in their fight, who also glared up at me.
I was sure my face was beet red under their scrutiny.
The referees kept blowing into their whistles, and teammates from both Rosemark and Pinebrook finally stepped in and broke the two guys apart.
When they were both safely on their respective benches, the referee called a time-out and walked over to the announcer’s table. He said something to him, and soon the guy was speaking into the microphone in front of him.
“And that’s the second double technical foul we have for number eleven, Brooks, playing for the Bears, and number three, Royce, playing for the Mountaineers. These two players will be out for the duration of the game.”
The crowds on both sides of the court booed even though it was the right call. Neither had any business being on the court if they were going to act like that.
I had half a mind to tell them that and was soon given my chance.
I watched as Preston snuck out on one side of the gym, and one minute later, Jackson walked out the other. I quickly glanced around, curious if anyone else had taken notice of the coincidental absence of the two players who’d just been fouled from playing the rest of that evening’s game. But no one else seemed aware, already absorbed in the game that had restarted below. Even Daria was oblivious when I told her I was going to the bathroom.
I walked out the same doors Preston had just exited. Neither he nor Jackson was anywhere to be seen, but I knew they were out there. I just needed to find them.
The halls were eerily silent as I wandered them, but I continued until I eventually heard the sound of two male voices. They were just around the next corner. My heart pounded as I crept up the edge of the hall that led to where they argued.
How had they managed to make it this far from the gym without murdering one another?
“Don’t blame me because you’re still sore you lost your sister at the party. It’s not my fault you cared more about punishing me instead of making sure she was okay!” Jackson yelled at Preston.
Courtside Crush: Varsity Girlfriends Book One Page 15