“Love ya!” I call after him, though he doesn’t return the sentiment.
Typical.
I take a long, hot shower and try to wash away my annoyed emotions, but it doesn’t work. The longer I dwell on our earlier conversation and his voicemail, the angrier I get at Eli. He’s legit mad at me for being nominated for homecoming. Who does that?
What’s wrong with him?
Only when it’s past eleven and I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling do I get a phone call. I fumble for my phone, surprised to see it’s actually a FaceTime call.
From Eli.
Sitting up in bed, I shove my hair out of my eyes and answer it, forming my face into a mean scowl so that’s the first thing he sees when my face appears.
“I’m a dick.”
That’s how he greets me.
“Yes,” I say tightly. “You are.”
He hangs his head, his hair falling into his eyes. The lights are bright, and he’s sitting in his bedroom, I think on his bed. He’s shirtless. His hair looks wet, like he just got out of the shower. He also looks really sad.
“I got into a fight today,” he confesses.
This is a day for endless shocking news. “What? With who?”
“My best friend. Brenden,” he says miserably.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t even a fair fight. He said a few things that made me mad and I—I hit him,” he explains, still looking down. Like he’s ashamed to meet my gaze.
“Where?”
“Out on the football field. After we filmed my story,” he says.
“No, I mean where did you hit him exactly?”
“On the jaw.” Eli finally lifts his head, his miserable gaze meeting mine. “I feel like shit.”
“You probably should. You can’t go around just hitting your best friend for no good reason,” I tell him.
“Kind of like I can’t be mad at you for getting nominated for homecoming princess?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say calmly. “Just like that.”
He averts his head and blows out a harsh breath, staring off at the distance. “It’s been a shit day.”
“Yeah. Same,” I tell him.
“You weren’t happy about the nomination?”
I study his pretty face on my phone screen, tempted to tell him about Wyatt and Lindsey and all the crap that came with it. But his mood isn’t good. I don’t need to add fuel to the fire. “I was really taken aback by it.”
“Why? You’re gorgeous. Sweet as cotton candy.” He smiles, but it feels forced.
“Right, and I have about as much substance as cotton candy too,” I say.
“Ah, come on now. We both know that’s not true.”
Whatever. “I don’t want to talk about the nominations. I want to know why you were so angry with me earlier,” I say.
“I’m frustrated, okay?” He runs his hand through his hair. Then rests both of his hands on top of his head, tugging on the ends of his hair and grimacing. “I’m sick of this shit.”
“What shit?”
“You being there and me being here. How our relationship is one big secret.” He drops his hands. “I hate keeping us secret.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Maybe I did, at first. But now, I want everyone to know that you’re my girl, and they can’t make a play for you. You belong to me.” He jabs a thumb at his chest, his expression serious.
Here he goes with all that territorial, ‘I would piss on you if I could’ shit. Sometimes, I kind of like it. And other times, I find it to be misogynistic and toxic behavior.
Like now.
“I belong to no one but myself,” I tell him calmly. “And if you’d come to me and reasonably said, ‘hey Ava, I want you to be my girlfriend and oh by the way, let’s tell everyone,’ I would’ve agreed. After telling my family and friends first, so it doesn’t come at them from out of nowhere.”
He blinks at me, like I’ve grown horns out of my forehead and am talking in a foreign language. “Babe, you know that’s not my style.”
“Getting angry and telling me what to do is, then?” I raise my brows and cross my arms. I’m not currently wearing a bra. Just one of Autumn’s old cheer team tank tops that kind of hangs on me—she has way bigger boobs than I do—and a pair of panties. That’s it. He can’t see the panties since I’m covered by my comforter, and I’m glad for it.
Any other night, and he would’ve made a dirty comment and I would’ve blushed and told him to stop. But deep down, I would’ve loved it and then he would’ve told me to masturbate to thoughts of him later and yeah, I probably would’ve.
Not tonight. For once, I’m completely disappointed in his behavior. He’s being irrational. Taking out his frustration on me.
And I won’t stand for it.
“No. Shit. I don’t know. I feel stupid.” He stares at me for a moment, and I stare back, both of us quiet. “I miss you,” he finally says.
It’s been a few days since we’ve seen each other. Last week we had an away game, and we had a parade to perform at early Saturday morning by the high school. I didn’t see him over the weekend at all.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I say, my voice small.
“I should’ve warned you from the start that I’ll somehow fuck this up,” he says. “I fuck up everything I care about eventually.”
He ends the call before I can say anything else.
“We’re going to watch the Mustangs play this Friday night,” Wyatt tells me after school on Thursday. “Want to come with me?”
I stop just outside of our classroom, clutching my water bottle to my chest like it can protect me. From Wyatt? He’s too nice to be a threat. “Um, the cheer team already made plans to go.”
That’s the truth. We discussed it in our group chat earlier today. We’ll finalize details at practice this afternoon. Since our team has a bye week, we’re free on a Friday night for once in our lives. And since the Mustangs came to our game on their bye week, we’re returning the favor.
In force. Our entire football team is going as well.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He smiles easily. “Maybe we can sit together.”
“Maybe,” I say evasively. I don’t want to encourage him or lead him on. I need to let him know now. “Listen Wyatt, I think you’re a really nice guy—”
“Are you giving me the letdown speech again?” He ducks his head. Chuckles a little bit. “We’ve been down this road before.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach out and lightly touch his arm. Regret hits me over my choice of words. I’m not sorry that he seems to like me. I just don’t want to let him down or hurt his feelings. “I’m kind of—seeing someone else.”
Who I haven’t really spoken to for pretty much the whole week, but I’m not bringing that up.
“Really?” Wyatt lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. I can see the confusion swirling there. “Who?”
“He doesn’t go here,” I answer, and that’s all I’m going to admit.
“Ah.” He nods. Glances around. Appears vaguely uncomfortable before he returns his gaze to mine, the faintest smile curling his lips. “This guy isn’t going to kick my ass at the coronation ceremony next week, is he?”
“Ha. No.” I laugh nervously. Can’t guarantee that, though. Knowing Eli, he might want to kick poor Wyatt’s ass, especially if he’s at the coronation ceremony. Especially if Wyatt and I actually win.
I can only imagine Eli showing up at our theater that night. Pretty sure that wouldn’t go over so well.
“Good.” Wyatt smiles. “You know what? He’s a lucky guy.”
And with that, he turns and walks away.
I watch him go for a minute, my heart heavy. It would be so much easier to like Wyatt. He’s nice. He’s cute. He would probably make a great boyfriend. One that everyone would approve of, even my brother.
Eli is another matter entirely.
Mom hasn’t said anythin
g yet, but I feel like there’s a ticking time bomb sitting between us, and it all has to do with my confession to her. That bomb is eventually going to go off—AKA she’ll tell Dad—and then all hell will break loose. Jake will hate me. It won’t be pretty.
I could end it now. Eli and I are kind of fighting, though it’s more like a silent standoff. He’s not really reaching out, and neither am I. Right now, I could break up with him—are we even actually together? —and feel justified.
But I don’t want to. There’s more to us than a typical high school relationship that crashes and burns. I care about him. I think I’m falling in love with him. Even just thinking those words hurts my chest. Makes me feel dumb.
He’s the last boy I should fall in love with. He’ll take my heart and smash it to pieces.
If he hasn’t done so already.
Thirty-Four
Eli
I’m not in the right frame of mind.
Haven’t been all week.
It’s Friday. Game day. My team isn’t really talking to me much. My best friend is still holding a grudge—and sporting a massive bruise on his jaw, thanks to my solid right hook. His girlfriend Kayla—yep, he finally sealed the deal with that one, took him long enough—gave me a piece of her mind in the middle of our English class on Tuesday, which resulted in her getting sent to the vice principal’s office.
I heard her crowing to her little friend group during lunch that day, telling them it was worth it.
Word spread like wildfire that I punched Brenden and never said sorry, so I look like an asshole. Worse, I am persona non grata at my school right now, and I don’t like it. I didn’t mean to fuck everything up so badly. And the fact that I did it all over a girl who’s not even talking to me currently?
This is stupid.
Deciding enough is enough, I go in search of Brenden at lunch, finding him sitting with Kayla and Tara and, oh God, Josie. Jackson is there too, along with a few other guys from my team, and they’re all crowded together on a round picnic table, talking about tonight’s game. How they hear the Badgers are coming to watch us play.
Wonder if Ava will show.
Probably not.
I can tell from the snippets of their conversation that they’re worried about me messing the game up. I’ve never heard anyone say anything like that about me before. Don’t mean to sound arrogant, but no one doubts my abilities. It’s everyone else they talk shit on. The offense. The defensive line. The freaking coaches.
I need to turn this around, stat.
“Hey.” I’m standing behind Jackson, looking straight at Brenden, who returns my stare downright defiantly. My little buddy has grown some major balls since I socked him in the face. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Don’t even bother,” Kayla says to her boyfriend, sending me a withering look. “Fuck him, B.”
The venom in her voice is obvious. Tara is glaring at me too. Hell, so is Josie, and that chick’s been wanting to ride my dick for years.
Jackson glances over his shoulder at me, a sympathetic look on his too pretty face. “Do the right thing man and apologize to him.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” I say, exasperated.
“I’ll talk to you.” Brenden drops a kiss on Kayla’s pursed lips before he climbs off the picnic bench. “Let’s go.”
I follow after him, grateful when he comes to a stop around the corner from the cafeteria. I don’t want our discussion to be put on public display, and it looks like he doesn’t either.
“What do you want to say?” Brenden asks as he turns to face me, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His expression is void of any emotion, and his lips are tight. That bruise on his jaw is ugly—a purplish yellow that makes it pretty obvious he got smacked. I don’t feel good about it.
At all.
“I’m sorry I hit you.” I’ve been practicing saying the words all week. Who knew saying a string of five words would take so much effort on my part? But I don’t like saying sorry. It’s something I’ve been dealing with over the last few years, ever since my parents announced their separation. Once that happened, I felt like I have nothing to be sorry for. My actions pretty much speak for themselves. I’m pissed, I react. Is that necessarily smart?
No. But I’m not going to apologize for my behavior unless it is completely warranted.
Hitting my best friend for no good reason? Warranted.
“You’re a total fuckbag for hitting me,” Brenden spits out, his voice full of fury. “Out of nowhere too, man. Why the fuck did you do that?”
“I’ve been going through some shit—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“And I would’ve been there for you. I always am. You haven’t told me anything for weeks, and I’ve known you for a while, Eli. I can always tell when something’s bothering you. You looked ready to blow Monday.”
“Yeah. And I exploded all over your ass,” I tell him, slowly shaking my head. “Look, I can’t go into too many details, but I know I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“You’re right. I didn’t,” he says tightly. “Turnabout’s fair play, wouldn’t you say?”
“What do you mean?” I ask warily.
“You should let me hit you.”
Silence settles between us as my brain absorbs his offer. “No.”
His arms drop at his sides, his hands curled into fists. “Then I don’t accept your apology.”
“Come on, Brenden. I regret hitting you. I regret even more the damage it’s done to our friendship. But I’m not going to just stand there and do nothing while you hit me as some sort of revenge plan,” I explain.
“It’s not revenge, you douche. It’s what you deserve.” Brenden starts to walk past me. “If you’re not going to let me do it, then there’s no point to this conversation.”
I stop him by placing my hand on his chest, practically thrusting my face in his. His lips are curled into a snarl, and I swear he appears ready to unleash on me. “What if I let you do it after the game tonight?”
His gaze drops to where my hand still rests on his chest. “Get your hand off me.”
I drop it. “Tonight. After the game. Behind the locker room.”
“I should punch your ass right now.”
I glance around. “There are people everywhere.”
“So?”
“So, you want us both to get in trouble before tonight’s game?”
Brenden’s jaw hardens. He knows I’ve got a point. They’ll pull us from the game, and no one wants that to happen. Even if they all hate me at the moment, they need me. “All right. After the game.”
“Are you accepting my apology? I just want things back to normal.”
“I’ll accept your apology.” He takes a step forward, and this time, he’s the one thrusting his face in mine. “But we won’t be cool until my knuckles shut up your shit-talking mouth. I’ll tell everyone we’re all right though, so we can play a normal game tonight.”
Relief smacks me hard, making me feel limp. “Good. I—”
Brenden cuts me off again. “I’m not keeping the peace for you. I’m doing it for us. For the team. I still care about them. You used to, but now you’re in some sort of screwed up mode, where all you can focus on is taking down Jake Callahan and his stupid team. Fuck those guys. Fuck your stupid Instagram stories. Fuck all of the rivalry. Just play ball, bro.”
Before I can say anything, he walks off.
Rage fills me, and I ball my hands into fists. I want to punch the wall, but I can’t mess with my hands. If I could kick something, I would, but I can’t fuck with my feet either.
Instead I have to stand here all by myself, breathing hard, seeing red.
Worse? The only person I can be mad at is myself.
“Eli?”
I turn to find Josie standing a few feet away, leaning against the building, keeping some distance between us. She’s in her cheer uniform since they wear them on game day at school, and yeah,
she looks cute, but Ava looks infinitely cuter in her uniform. That girl just does it for me, even when I’m mad at her.
“What?” I ask Josie, the word shooting out of me like a bullet. Fast and deadly.
“I—just wanted to check on you.” She makes her way toward me slowly. Carefully. As one would approach a lion or a fucking rhino in the wild. I just learned those big ol’ beasts kill more people than any other animal in Africa. Who knew? Not me. “You and Brenden work everything out?”
No. Not really. “Yeah. We’re good.” The lie falls easily from my lips.
Lots of them do.
She stops directly in front of me, her gaze practically adoring as she studies my face. “You’re so tense. You’ve been this way all week.” She settles her hand on my chest, right where my heart should be.
It’s not there. It currently resides in Ava’s hands, and I don’t think she even has a clue what she’s holding.
“Sometimes we have bad weeks,” I tell her with a grim smile.
“I could help you, you know.” She runs her hand down my chest, tracing the number one on my jersey. Her fingers toy with the waistband of my jeans before her hand slides lower. To rest right on my junk. “Ease the tension, so to speak.” She cups me.
Nothing happens.
“Are you offering something?” I raise a brow.
Her expression turns eager. She thinks she’s cast her line, and I’ve taken a nibble. “Whatever you want, I’m up for it.”
“So if I asked you to give me a blowjob right here, right now, you’d do it?” I ask incredulously.
She cozies up even closer to me, not once removing her hand from my groin. “I’ve been after you for so long, Eli. I’d probably let you fuck me against the wall before the lunch bell rings if that’s what it takes.”
Last year, I would’ve jumped all over this offer. Now, all I can think about is Ava. How much it would hurt her, if I messed around with someone else. How much it would fuck with my head, if Ava messed around with someone else.
We may be at odds, but I won’t be tempted by Josie.
Addicted To Him Page 28