by Hannah Gray
We all stop and watch him with a look on our faces, wondering how this involves us.
“I want each and every one of you at that game. You hear? It’s not every year that one of our sports teams does this, so we need to support them.”
Some look at him like, Obviously. Where else would I be? And some of the others—mostly the guys—roll their eyes. Silently wishing they could do anything else with their weekend.
I’ve heard some of the guys on the team talk, and they don’t exactly love football players. Most think they are pompous and overrated. I’ll admit, they kind of are sometimes. Sports like golf, swim, and tennis aren’t idolized at Brooks nearly as much as football. Heck, even baseball and basketball aren’t either. Hockey, on the other hand, holds its own. I suppose it helps that they have a strong team this season.
I don’t think I could ever date a swimmer. I snort at the idea of it. The Speedos … I just can’t. I’ve seen too many of them in my life. And most of the dudes on my team strut around in them like they are God’s gift to all of us. Hard pass.
“Good. Now that that’s settled,” Coach starts again, but for a moment, I forgot he was even here. “The swim meet the following weekend is at Alabama U. I’ll send out an email next week with more information.” He looks at Collin, a senior, and shakes his head. “I didn’t miss the grunt from you regarding the football game.” He lightly slaps his hand against Collin’s arm. “I know those boys are cocky. We all know that. But this is a big day for Brooks. Let’s go out and support them.”
Collin shrugs. “Fine. If you insist.”
“I do.” Coach winks. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll show up and watch us one day.”
When Coach dismisses us, we all start to file out. Normally, we wouldn’t work out as a team, but today, it just worked out that his top swimmers had to all be here at the same time. I didn’t mind. My homework is done, my room is clean, and my laundry is caught up from being home for Christmas. The alternative was painting my nails, only to pick the polish off later. Because, yes, I’m that crazy. And that bored.
I even miss Weston being a dick to me. At least it was entertaining. Now, it’s just radio silence. And indifference. Which is even worse than hate. At least when he hated me, it was still hot.
He mentioned he was going to transfer. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if he does. Not like it would make a difference. I don’t see him anyway. But something about knowing he’s still in the same vicinity as I am gives me a teeny-weeny bit of comfort. So, in a way, I hope he stays.
Weston
I wake up and swear I’m still drunk. I’m not one to drink much usually, but last night, we made it to the championship. That’s a big deal for us. But now, the real work begins. And ten days from now, we need to play the game of our lives.
Part of me feels bad that Dane’s team lost and doesn’t get a shot at the championship. But the other part of me is glad I don’t have to face off against him. He’d have gotten inside my head, and I don’t need that.
I force myself to get out of bed. A big win doesn’t mean we get the next day off. Fuck no. We have practice this afternoon. And it’ll no doubt be a beast of a practice. Coach wants this championship so bad that he’d probably trade his left nut for it.
Fuck, I probably would too.
Pulling my sweatpants on, I walk out of my room and head toward the fridge, finding Ally sitting on the couch. A blank look on her face as she stares at her laptop.
“Yo.” I grab a bottle out of the fridge and chug it.
“You look how I feel.” She groans, closing her laptop. “Why did I let you guys make me do those shots? Savages.”
I attempt to laugh, but it actually hurts my head. “At the time, it seemed like a good idea.” I grab the bottle of Tylenol and pop two in my mouth. “Now, not so much. I might never drink again.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she says sarcastically. “What’s new with you? You’re around more than you were before.” She drops her voice low. “And Knox too … only he’s been such a grump ass.”
“He’s nursing a broken heart.” I point my chin at her. “Thanks to that friend of yours. Blondie.”
“Boy, don’t get me started.” She moves her head back and forth with full attitude. “He screwed up, not her.”
I hold my hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m on your side, Ally.” I’m not sure if those words are true, but Cole’s girl scares the piss out of me. I’ll tell her anything she needs to hear. “Fuck Knox. Knox who?”
Her lips turn up in a satisfied smile. “That’s more like it.”
Apparently, Knox pulled some sort of betrayal on Sloane. I’ve heard the part of the story of what happened, and I’ll admit, he was in the wrong. But Knox is my guy and like a brother. I’ll always have his back.
Unless Ally is asking me. Then, I’m on Sloane’s side.
She once told Cole she was going to cut his nuts off and put them in a blender and force him to drink a ballbag smoothie. She’s beautiful. But she’s also vicious.
Cole struts out of his room and sits down next to her, rubbing his head. “Fuck my life. Everything hurts.”
“Sorry, babe, but I’m busy right now, being Dr. Phil,” Ally says to him before zeroing back in on me. “Back to you. You’ve been around more the past few months. Did you decide you didn’t want to be Houdini anymore?”
“I was never Houdini!” I hold my arms out. “I just had shit to do.”
“And now?” Cole’s voice drawls slowly.
“And now, I don’t.” I grab another water and head to my room. “You fuckers are nosy.”
“Weston,” Ally says. Forcing me to turn around.
“Yeah?”
“If you need to talk, I’m here. I know females.”
Cole snorts. “You are so not a girlie girl. And you don’t speak their language.”
Ally’s head rears back. “I have a vagina, dickwad. So, what language do I speak?”
“Foster home, poor kid who beats bullies up on the playground. A chick other girls are scared of. That’s more your speed, babe.” He kisses her cheek. “I dig it though.”
She rolls her eyes and looks at me. “Anyway, as I was saying, Weston, before I was rudely interrupted, I’m here if you need to talk.” She shrugs. “At the very least, I could probably scare whoever this chick is who has hurt you. I can be scary.”
“True that,” Cole mumbles.
“Thanks, Al. I’m good though.” I wink and walk to my room.
I’ve never told them about Henley. And I thought I was hiding the fact that I’m hurting like a little bitch. But apparently, Ally can read that shit like a book.
Henley and Ally facing off would be interesting. Ally is bluntly intimidating. She speaks her mind. Henley, she might look sweet and laid-back. But if you fuck with her or someone she loves, yeah … she’d hold her own, for sure.
I wonder if she’s proud of me for making it to the championship. Deep down, I know she is. And somehow, I know she’ll be there, watching.
I just wish once we won, I could kiss her. That would make it all seem worth it somehow. And if we lost, kissing her would dull the pain.
thirty-four
Weston
I sit on a stool at a party in full swing. It’s loud. Everyone’s drunk. It’s secretly the last place I want to be.
“Happy birthday, man! Let’s get fucked up!” A teammate of mine smashes his hands on my shoulders before another brings me a beer. “It ain’t every day you turn nineteen!”
Luckily, after I clash my bottle with theirs, they strut off. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Today is January 2 and also my nineteenth birthday. And it should be a good day. And in less than a week, we’ll play the championship game. And life is good. Or it looks that way anyway.
Henley’s birthday is today too. I wonder what she’s doing or who she’s with. I hope she doesn’t do anything too crazy, but I guess it’s not my job to worry about her anymore.
&
nbsp; It’s been less than six weeks since I said my final good-bye to her at Thanksgiving. That’s weeks of walking around, wondering what the fuck I’m even doing here, at Brooks. Every building, sidewalk, hell, even a fucking tree is a reminder that she’s walking by this same shit daily.
I can’t be here after this year. I’ll lose my damn mind.
Sometimes, focus is hard to find. My thoughts run somewhere between missing her and hating her. It’s fucking exhausting, and I’m beginning to think I’m like a shitty broken record.
To think this all could have been avoided if only two girls hadn’t been so fucking petty. But then again, who the hell am I kidding? If that was all it took for her to jump in bed with him, I suppose it was bound to happen.
Part of me wants to run to her and hate-fuck her so bad that it washes away every single touch from him. I want to make her cry out—and not in pleasure. Then, I want to take her so close to release and pull out before she gets it. Leaving her cold and mindfucked. Just like me.
Sometimes, sex can be just that. Sex. Used for two people to get off. Or to momentarily forget their troubles. There are no feelings involved. They don’t speak telepathically while they fuck each other to oblivion. They don’t say I love you through thrusts and whimpers.
But we did. It wasn’t just sex or hooking up. It was everything.
But now, it’s over. And I have to spend the rest of the time avoiding holidays at my parents’ best friends’ house because I can’t be trusted within ten feet of her. Thanksgiving is a prime example of that.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Knox sits on the stool next to me. His forearms on the bar.
He hasn’t said much, but I know he and his girl ended things. Or she ended things. He’s been shorter with all of us lately. And not his usual chipper self. Tonight must be an exception because it’s my birthday.
“Eh, you’d need a lot of quarters, brother. Best save them up. Your truck might break down and need some of it.”
“She’s never breaking down,” he says so surely. He loves that truck. Pretty sure he might even talk to it at times.
Knox’s family is loaded. And that fucker could have had any truck he wanted, but he picked an old Ford pickup truck. The thing is sick, but he always has to be sure to do maintenance on it to keep it running smoothly. The cost of having an older ride, no matter how cool it is, is that it comes with its own set of problems.
“But really, you all right? You’re all sulky and shit. Usually, that’s Cole’s job.” He pauses. “Guess I don’t have much room to talk though, do I?”
“Fuck no, you don’t.” I lightly tap my hands against the wooden table. “We’re a bunch of grumpy fuckers these days, huh?”
“Yeah,” he answers mindlessly. His eyes stare straight ahead, like he’s lost in thought, before he turns toward me, his lips forming a smirk. “Let’s go do something fun. Fuck this place.”
“Like what? Didn’t you just say we’re getting fucked up?” I chuckle. “Now, what’s the plan?”
“I’ve only had a few swigs off my beer. I’ll drive us.” He stands, finally looking like himself for the first time in weeks. “Get Cole and meet me outside. Gonna be the best birthday ever, guaranteed.”
“Dude, it’s dark. And cold,” Cole gripes. “You aren’t supposed to go fishing late at night.”
“You obviously have never listened to the song ‘Fishin’ in the Dark’ by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.” Knox shakes his head. “That’s a classic. You should be ashamed. Besides, when’s the last time you reeled in a big ol’ fish anyway?”
“I don’t fish.” Cole attempts to cast but tangles his line with mine. “I was too poor for a fishing rod. And my dad was a crackhead, so he wasn’t exactly taking me fishing on the weekends. Unless it was fishing in a garbage can for food.” He snorts. He doesn’t say the words with venom. In fact, he sort of makes it into a joke. “I stole candy from a candy store and played football with an old, worn-out ball I’d found in a donation pile. That was about it.”
“Dude, that’s clear.” I point to my line that’s now a snarled mess with his. “Now, I have to cut it and rerig the whole thing.”
Knox continues to reel, a shit-eating grin on his face. “A good day at work beats a bad day of fishing.”
Cole and I look at each other, fighting back laughter.
“Yeah, brother … you might want to try saying that again,” I say, taking my knife out and cutting the line before feeding a new line through. “Say it slow this time.”
He grumbles, “A bad day of fishing beats a good day at work.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” Cole laughs. “We have a winner.”
“You guys are dicks. I’m never bringing the pair of you fishin’ again.”
“Whose birthday is it anyway?” Cole scratches his chin. “Could have sworn it was Weston’s. I must be mistaken. Happy birthday, Foxy Knoxy.”
“Well, what was your master plan?” Knox shoots him a glare. “I didn’t see you planning him anything for his day. I even brought him a six-pack. What’d you bring? Your attitude?”
Knox might take everything as a joke, but it also doesn’t take much to get him fired up. Which is exactly why Cole fucks with him constantly.
Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. One that will surely make this night better. Even if it is at Knox’s expense.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I text Cole and sit back and watch him instantly read the message. He’s been on his damn cell all night, surely texting Ally while she’s at work. Not that I care. If things were different between Henley and me, I’m sure I’d be texting her too. No, I take it back. I’d be with her right now, celebrating both our birthdays.
Once we hear the magic words, “I gotta go piss,” from Knox’s mouth, we put our plan into action.
We have to work quick, but we get it done and wait for our reward.
After he struts back over to his pole and casts his line, Cole and I both wait impatiently. Hoping like hell it doesn’t take too long.
“Fuck! Fish on! Fish on! I got a mothafucking fish,” he yells, looking at us. “Told you assholes I was the fishing king.”
“Yeah …” I try to keep my voice steady. “Guess you’re about to show us, huh? Reel that thing in. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He sticks his tongue out the side while he reels. Something I’ve noticed he does anytime he’s concentrating at all. “Fellas, I’m tellin’ you what. It’s a fucking monster, for sure.”
“Wow.” Cole puts his rod down and walks next to Knox. “Guess you’ll have to show me your ways.” And as the last words leave Cole’s mouth, the thing Knox thinks is a fish comes out of the water.
“What the fuck?!” he hollers, a scowl on his face. “You guys are a bunch of assholes. Last time I bring you fishing with me.”
He unhooks the white milk jug that is detailed with a dick and balls in black permanent marker. Above it reads, For a good two-inch time, call Knox Carter with his cell phone number written below. He throws it back on the bank. “Fuckers. I really thought I had something.”
“No, sir.” I laugh. “Maybe your skills are rusty, eh?”
He flicks me off and sits on our cooler. “Let’s go home. I’m tired.”
“Me too, Knoxy. Me too.” I reach back and cast once more. “After this one, we’re out of here.”
I used to go fishing with my dad sometimes. And in the summers, Henley, Dane, and I would fish from our docks. But once I got old enough for football camps and clinics, that was all I did. It was all I had time for. And fishing was too slow for me. My dad loves it. But me? I can’t stand for my mind and body to relax this much. I’m just not a patient man.
I’ve got it halfway reeled back when there’s a pull. And the way it’s fighting back, I know it’s a fish.
It doesn’t take long for Knox to notice my rod bending. “I hope you get a Mountain Dew bottle with a hairy ass on it.” He pouts. “Would serve you right after drawing a penis and a big old nuts
ack on a milk jug and making me think I caught the fish of my life.”
“Look on the bright side,” I say, slightly fighting the fish, not wanting to lose it by reeling too fast. “You’ve still caught more than Cole. He didn’t even catch a pecker or a nutsack.”
“This is true,” Cole agrees.
When it breaks the surface of the water, I see it’s a largemouth bass. And it is pissed as it thrashes around.
“Fucking right! That’s tomorrow’s dinner.” Knox pretends to bow before me. “Thank you, sir. For you have provided for your brothers.”
“No, man. Hate to break it to you, but we’re letting him go.” I slide the barb out of his mouth and hold him. “Catch and release.”
“Why?” Cole has a hand on his side, looking confused. “What’s the point then?”
“Because it’s fun.” I kneel down at the water and hold him under until he eventually swims off. “And because … we don’t need it.”
They both stare at me like my head has suddenly turned into a dick and then mutated. Knox shakes his head and stalks off. Saying something about how I ruined his feast.
Cole just shrugs. “I’m a steak and potatoes guy anyway. Never tried fish. Probably never will.”
“You’ve never eaten a fish?” I wash my hands off in the river. “I don’t eat any vegetables. And I only like a small variety of shit. But even I’ve eaten fish.”
“I’m telling you, brother, I didn’t grow up like you and Knox did. I didn’t have parents who even made me meals. Most of the time, I ate out of a jar of peanut butter, or some days, I’d find some moldy hot-dog buns and eat the good side of them. Until Jenn and Matt, I’d never even had a home-cooked meal.”
Jenn and Matt are his adoptive parents, and they seem nice enough. And normal. Which is something his birth parents and even foster parents were far from.
I head toward him and smack his shoulder. “Let’s get going. I’m fucking wiped.”
He holds his fist up, and I bump mine against it. “Happy birthday, man. I know it wasn’t anything too exciting, but I’m glad to have spent it with ya.”