Courtside Crush: Varsity Girlfriends Book One

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Courtside Crush: Varsity Girlfriends Book One Page 16

by Tirrell, Kayla


  “Because you were the one chasing after her? Oh, wait…you were right there with me.”

  Jackson said something under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out, but Preston burst out with cruel laughter.

  “Charlie was smart to leave you,” he said.

  “Why? Because you don’t like me? How selfish do you have to be to let your little Senior Year Rematch dictate who she can and can’t date?”

  There was a pause before Preston asked quietly, “She told you what I called it?”

  My breath caught at the definite feeling of betrayal in his tone. I really wished Jackson wouldn’t have said that—not when Preston and I were just getting to the point where we might talk again.

  “That’s not all she told me,” Jackson goaded.

  Dang it, Jackson. Shut up!

  “You’d better shut your face before I shut it for you.”

  Oh, crap! Not like that.

  I rounded the corner and cleared my throat. Both of their faces snapped in my direction. And both Preston and Jackson had the decency to look ashamed when they saw me standing there with my arms crossed against my chest.

  Before the game, I’d wondered who I would choose if forced with the decision. The idea of having to pick my brother or the guy I liked was too stressful.

  But now I saw there was a third choice, a better choice.

  I chose me.

  I was tired of letting the outrageous competition between these two make me feel like I had to choose sides. I wasn’t doing it anymore.

  “You know what,” I said as I shook my head. “You guys both suck. Neither of you gets to play during the Senior Year Rematch. You’ve let this—” I waved my finger between them. “—get in the way of the game. I bet your teammates are so mad at you, and it serves you right for being so petty.”

  Preston looked down at his feet while Jackson rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

  I pulled out my phone. “And I will not watch you guys fight anymore. Go back to the gym, or I will call the cops. Do you understand?”

  Preston took a step forward. “You’re not really going to call the—”

  I started dialing.

  Preston lifted his hands. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

  He started walking toward the gym, and I watched him for a moment before I turned to face Jackson. He stood planted in the same place.

  “I’m serious,” I said, my voice shaking from the adrenaline that coursed through me. I’d never felt so powerful and so nervous at the same time. “You need to go back to the gym before anyone else notices you two walked out at the same time.”

  Jackson nodded his head. He started walking past me in the same direction Preston had just gone but stopped. He didn’t turn around, and his voice was soft, but I swore I heard him whisper the same two words I’d been wanting to say to him for weeks before he finally walked away. The words I’d typed and deleted from my phone a hundred times.

  I’m sorry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Preston was already dressed and eating breakfast when I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, my eyes still puffy from crying most of the night before. He looked up at me quickly, his face unreadable, and went back to staring at his bowl of cereal as he shoveled it into his mouth.

  “Why aren’t you dressed yet, Charlie?” My dad looked up at the clock on the wall. “You have to leave for school soon.”

  I looked down at my feet. “I was thinking I could maybe stay home today?”

  “Are you sick? Here, let me get the thermometer.” He opened the cabinet next to the sink and started shuffling through everything.

  “No, Dad. I’m feeling fine.” I cleared my throat. “I just thought I might take a much-needed mental health day.”

  He stopped his search for the thermometer and turned to face me, an eyebrow raised. “A mental health day?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yeah.”

  My dad glanced over at Preston who still stared at the bowl in front of him before he looked at me. “Is this because of what happened at the game last night?”

  He didn’t know all the details but knew Preston and Jackson were both fouled out. And he knew I yelled at them both.

  I nodded.

  “Charlie.” His voice was soft. “I want you to remember you are the one who begged to go.”

  “I know.”

  “Your mother and I didn’t think it was a good idea, but you fought and fought until you got your way. And now you have to deal with the consequences.”

  I’d done nothing but deal with the consequences for these last couple of months. When was everyone else going to have to deal with the consequences? It wasn’t fair that everyone else got to keep living their lives like nothing had happened, while I was dealt blow after blow.

  I was sick of it.

  “Please, Dad. Just this once.”

  “I’m sorry, Charlie, but you’re going to school, and that’s final. Now go get ready, so you and Preston aren’t late. I’ll see if I can round something up for you to eat on the way to school.”

  I stormed back to my room and got dressed quickly. Jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I wanted to wear my letterman jacket—it was my favorite after all—but it didn’t feel right given this past week. I settled on my hoodie, threw my hair up in a messy ponytail, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

  When I reemerged, it was time to race out the door. I grabbed my backpack, the granola bar my dad had left on the table, and got in the car with Preston. I was prepared to ride to school in the silence we’d had between us since the party, but as soon as we left the driveway, Preston started talking.

  “You were right, you know.”

  I sighed. There were so many things he could be referring to, and I had no idea how to respond. I waited for him to elaborate.

  “Mackey was so mad that I couldn’t play last night. He said it was the reason we lost to Pinebrook.”

  Of all the things Preston could have said I was right about, it was the game? Ugh! Guys were so clueless sometimes.

  I rolled my eyes and continued to sit there in silence.

  “That’s not the only thing you were right about.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.

  “Senior Year Rematch…” Preston took a deep breath.

  Meanwhile, I held mine.

  “You were right when you said I let my rivalry with Brooks get in the way of everything else. We went up against Pinebrook, and we lost. Life goes on. There are other teams to play. My thing with Brooks is officially over.”

  And so is mine, I thought. Bitterness and sadness warred with one another as I struggled to voice my reply.

  “I was thinking—” Preston started.

  “Look,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? Can we just go back to our silence?”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean—”

  He slammed on his brakes in the middle of the street, cutting my question off. The sudden stop made me jerk forward in my seat. “What the—” I quickly turned to look behind us.

  The roadway was clear, and once I saw we were safe from a car slamming into the back of ours, I punched Preston in the arm. “You, idiot! That could have been really bad!” I hit him again.

  Preston shifted the car into park and turned on the emergency flashers. Apparently, he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

  “What is wrong with you?” My voice was high-pitched.

  “I’m tired of doing this, Charlie. I’m tired of fighting.”

  A car heading in the same direction slowed down and swerved around us but didn’t stop.

  “Me too,” I admitted. “I hate that everything went all crazy, but I don’t know how to fix it. It’s like things went too far.”

  “Is it because of Brooks?”

  My head shook back and forth. “Not entirely.”

  “He really likes you.”

  �
��You mean, he liked me, Pres. As in, there was a time he enjoyed hanging out with me, but not anymore.” I closed my eyes and let out a sharp laugh. “And you know what the worst part is? I should have just said something sooner. Now, I get to enjoy more of these lovely consequences Mom and Dad, and Mr. Richards and everyone else wants me to learn. So yay! Lucky me.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Says the guy who hasn’t had to deal with any.”

  Preston leaned back in his seat. “Everyone on the team is mad at me. I think I might have just taken Anderson’s spot as the most hated player. I’m not sure if Coach will let me start at the next game. Beth is upset about the way I’ve been acting, and I haven’t talked to my sister in weeks. I’d say I’m feeling some consequences.”

  It might not be as horrible as an auto-tuned video floating around the school, but it sounded like he had some issues of his own.

  “That sucks,” I said softly, my anger marginally less than it had been when I’d woken up this morning.

  “Yeah.” He inhaled a slow breath and released it. “I’m sorry about everything.”

  “I know.”

  We sat there in silence for another minute before I finally spoke up. “Um, Pres. If you don’t start driving soon, we’re going to be late, and I don’t think that will be good for either of us.”

  Preston put the car back in drive, and we pulled up to the parking lot with just enough time to make it to our classes before the tardy bell rang—if we hurried.

  My brother turned to me one last time before we got out of the car. “I’m glad we talked.”

  “Me too. But now it’s time for us to run.” I got out and raced to the school. Preston was right beside me the entire time until we split ways in the hall to go to our respective classes.

  I skid through the door of Mrs. Whitmore’s room just as the bell rang. She raised her brows at me but motioned to my seat.

  My breathing was heavy as I sat down.

  “I thought you were staying home today?” Daria whispered loudly from behind me.

  I swiveled in my chair. “I thought I was too.”

  “Wait. Does that mean you rode with Preston?”

  I nodded.

  Mrs. Whitmore’s voice called out. “Charlie, Daria, eyes up here. Class is ready to begin.”

  My body twisted to face our teacher, but Daria giggled and added, “That must have gone well.”

  After school, Daria and I were at our lockers putting our books away. We were grabbing our workout clothes when Preston jogged over.

  “Hey, you ready to go?”

  Daria gave me a wide-eyed look.

  I nodded at her as if to say yeah, it’s weird before I shifted my gaze to my brother and raised my brows. “Shouldn’t you be making kissy faces with Beth?”

  He shrugged. “She’s still mad at me.”

  “Dude.” I shook my head. “I have basketball practice, and Daria is going to bring me home. You go figure things out with your girlfriend. I promise I’m not avoiding you.”

  He waited.

  “Seriously, go!” I gave him a playful shove that sent him in motion.

  Once he was gone, I turned back to my friend and shrugged. “I guess threatening to call the cops did a number on him.”

  Daria linked her arm in mine as we walked toward the girls’ locker room. “I think it had more to do with you standing up for yourself. It’s easy for everyone to get caught up in their own drama, and sometimes you just need to let people know when they’re acting selfish.”

  “And what about you, Daria? Do you feel like you need to kick me and tell me how selfish I’ve been with all this Jackson Brooks drama?”

  She snorted. “Girl. Your life has been a mess, and I don’t think you were being selfish—just dumb.”

  I playfully bumped her shoulder.

  “Just remember, I fully expect you to be there for me when I go crazy.”

  “Yeah, right, because you’re totally going to go nuts.”

  She wouldn’t.

  The thing was, Daria was crazy on the court, and you wanted her on your team. But in real life, she was so chill. I didn’t expect her ever to need me to talk her off the cliff the way she’d done for me through all my drama. Of course, if for some reason she ever did, I planned to be there with bells and whistles.

  There was no way I would have survived my breakup with Anderson—or my pseudo-breakup with Jackson—without her.

  We got dressed out and met our fellow teammates in the gym. Coach Scruggs stood with her clipboard looking very serious. Once everyone was ready, she spoke.

  “Okay, ladies. We have our first real game tomorrow, and I’m sure you’re all very excited, right?”

  Everyone nodded, including me, even though I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to play just yet.

  “Which means this practice is an important one. We want to make sure we’re really taking advantage of the time, correct?”

  Again, we all nodded.

  “Great. Then, let’s get started.”

  Coach pulled out a portable speaker and hooked it up to her phone. It was odd because she never let us listen to anything during practice—not even when we were doing suicides and running back-and-forth across the court. When she pressed play on her phone, some weird new-age music, assuming you could even call it that, started playing over the speakers.

  “We’ll start by pairing up.” She listed names in sets of two, putting me with Jessica—the same girl who had refused to pass me the ball in any of our scrimmages. A light blush touched Jessica’s cheeks as she walked over to where I stood.

  Good, I was glad she felt embarrassed by being paired with me. Though I was too busy trying to figure out what the heck was going on with Coach to enjoy it as much as I wanted to.

  “I’m going to have you start by having the older girl catch the younger in a trust fall, and then switch places.”

  No one moved for a few tense seconds, but soon confused looks began to pass between everyone. The strange music played on in the background.

  Coach huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there a problem here?” she asked in a loud, booming voice.

  Jasmine, our fearless captain, was the first one to step forward and answer. “Um, I think we’re just a little confused by why we’re doing this instead of drills since our game is tomorrow.” She paused, but quickly added, “Ma’am.”

  Coach shook her head. “You want to go through drills?”

  Jasmine’s eyes darted back and forth. “Yes?”

  “Is it a question?”

  “No, ma’am,” came Jasmine’s quick reply. “I think we should be doing drills to prepare.”

  Coach’s eyes traveled over the rest of the team. “And what about the rest of you? Do you also want to work on drills?”

  Everyone’s heads bobbed up and down, but with noticeable hesitation.

  “Then would someone like to explain to me why we’ve been wasting our practice time for the last few weeks?” Her question was met with silence. “No? I just figured if you’re going to continue to ignore the girl who will be this team’s starting point guard, once she gets off athletic probation, that you wouldn’t care if we goofed around for every practice. Maybe I’ll just stop showing up altogether. How does that sound?”

  I winced and tipped my face down.

  When no one said anything, Coach continued her tirade.

  “Listen, ladies. I know you aren’t all best friends, and I don’t expect you to be, but your relationships out there”—she pointed to the doors that led to the rest of the school—“should never affect the way you play together on the court. You all have been acting like a bunch of overly-sensitive babies, and it’s gone on long enough. I won’t stand for it anymore.”

  The sound of a bunch of mumbled “sorry”s went through the team.

  Coach lowered her brows. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to play together and beat St. Mary’s tomorrow. I want to see you acting like a team. And
if you ever pull this crap again, I won’t hesitate to bring the incense. Then, we can all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. Do you understand?”

  We nodded.

  “Do you understand?” she repeated louder.

  “Yes, ma’am,” we all answered in unison.

  Coach tipped her chin, apparently satisfied. Her eyes caught mine, and I swore I saw a small smile touch her lips before she started barking out orders. “Good, now get to work on your lay-ups. We have a game tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When my family gathered for dinner that night, everything suddenly felt right again. Having Mom, Dad, Preston, and me with a giant pan of lasagna in the center of the table gave me all the warm and fuzzy feelings. It was surprising how ending a stupid argument with my brother gave me such a new perspective on meal time.

  We enjoyed a friendly conversation, much to Dad’s delight, and when it was all over with, I asked if it would be okay to go outside and shoot some hoops. I was still pretty jazzed up after the great practice earlier that day and wanted to spend a little more time on my ball handling.

  “Wanna come too?” I asked Preston, as he piled another helping of food onto his plate.

  He shoveled a bite into his mouth and nodded. “Yeah, I might come out in a little bit.”

  Mom and Dad’s eyes went wide like we’d just sprouted horns, or maybe halos in this instance. I guessed they were still a little in shock over the way Preston and I joked around over the meal. And really, I couldn’t blame them. I was still in awe of how quickly and easily we fell back into our old ways.

  Maybe that was one of the benefits of being family.

  I got up and put my plate in the sink, grabbed my letterman jacket, and went outside. The evening air was so cold I could see my breath, but I knew if I moved around my driveway, I would be warm soon enough.

  I spent a lot of time practicing my free throws. Sometimes, my ball would hit the rim and bounce off, but most of the time I made the basket. I loved the swishing sound when I got nothing but net. And I made a little game of seeing how many times I could get it in without it bouncing off any part of the basketball hoop.

 

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