Off Center (Varsity Girlfriends Book 2)

by M. F. Lorson

  I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Is that what Mackey wanted to do? Sneak off to some secluded location of the Grotto? Everyone knew Preston and Beth couldn’t get through the time between classes without stealing a kiss, Anderson had outright told Mackey he was looking to hook up tonight and even though Sammi made sure the whole school knew she was saving herself for marriage, she got all dreamy-eyed just looking at Jeremiah. There was no way any of those couples wanted us tagging along.

  “The Grotto. It’s kind of romantic then?” I asked, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

  “Kind of,” said Mackey, drumming his fingertips along the curve of the steering wheel. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just thought. We always go so…”

  Always, I thought. Who had Mackey brought to the Grotto last year? And the year before? Why was I such a baby? It would be fun going somewhere new with someone I really liked. I did like Mackey didn’t I? I stole a glance out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t like Elliot. He’d never brushed the hair from my face or rested his hand on the small of my back. Our whole relationship had been bear hugs and playful slugs. But when he looked at me, really looked at me, the way he had been since the moment he picked me up, it felt one hundred times more intimate than all of the first kisses that lived in my imagination.

  “I want to go,” I said, smoothing the material of my cardigan as if running my hands along my torso would suddenly transform me from never been kissed, Lane Crawford to confidant, girl of your dreams, Sammi Parsons.

  “Good,” said Mackey as he turned the car down a long tree-lined road. “Because we’re here now and I don’t think I’m capable of making up a believable excuse for bailing that doesn’t smell just a touch like rejection.”

  My heart skipped a beat as he parked the car next to Anderson’s Jeep. Rejection wasn’t a word you used on a ‘just friend.’ Outside the entrance to the Grotto, the three couples stood shivering as they waited for Mackey to give our tickets to the gatekeeper. I hadn’t known we would be outside, but I’d brought a jacket just in case.

  Sammi, Beth, and Linzie, on the other hand, were shaking uncontrollably, squeezing their arms to their chest to keep warm in thin layers. At first, I thought they were dumb. Dressing that way just to look good wasn’t practical. But when I saw the way Preston wrapped his arms around Beth’s middle, pulling her in close to his side to share body heat I understood why they were willing to sacrifice comfort for fashion.

  The Grotto was a massive garden with paths spiraling off in different directions. It didn’t matter which way you went through, ultimately every walkway led to the cave where a giant marble statue of the Virgin Mary stood looking over the grounds.

  “We’ll meet up at ‘Our Lady’ in an hour,” said Anderson. Tugging Linzie by the hand, he lead the two of them down a cobblestone path toward a grove of trees. I raised a judgemental eyebrow at Mackey as they headed toward the darkest part of the garden.

  Preston shrugged his shoulders. “Divide and conquer, I suppose.” He said grabbing a giggling Beth by the hand and disappearing down the path to our left.

  I turned to see where Jeremiah and Sammi planned to stray, but by the time I began to look for them, there was nothing around us but the glow of christmas lights.

  “Come on,” said Mackey swinging his arm around my shoulder. “I’d rather take our own path, anyway.”

  I leaned into his arm, letting the warmth from his embrace wrap me like a cocoon as we worked our way down the cobblestone path. We had been walking for a good twenty minutes, Mackey rambling about the tournament, me trying not to faint as that warm buzzing feeling inside of me conquered every bit of the cold night air around us.

  “You were smart to bring a jacket,” said Mackey taking a break from his all basketball chatter. If only he knew how disappointed I was not to be shivering in his arms.

  “Thanks?” I said.

  “Sorry,” said Mackey rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to bore you to tears. I just don’t have a lot of practice with this stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  Mackey let out an exasperated breath, “You know, date stuff.”

  “Oh…” I said, my voice trailing off. So it was a date. I had hoped so but the confirmation made me want to channel Linzie and Sammi and burst into cheer.

  “What’s with the lights?” I asked, helping the conversation along.

  Every tree, bush, and bench in the garden was lit up with tiny twinkling white lights.

  “That’s why we come,” said Mackey. “They fill the whole Grotto with lights the week of Thanksgiving. People come from all over the state to see them. But the crowds don’t start until closer to Christmas.”

  “Crowds would sort of defeat the purpose, eh?” I smirked, pointing across a tiny pond to where we could just make out Sammi’s pink sweater poking out from behind a statue of one of the saints.

  Mackey waggled his eyebrows, “There are certainly benefits to coming on a slow night.”

  “Benefits, huh? Who were your benefits with last year?” I asked. Mackey slid his arm off my shoulder intertwining his fingers with mine.

  “Actually,” he said, gently rubbing his thumb over mine. “I didn’t bring anyone. It isn’t my style, all that PDA.” He said, casting his eyes back toward Sammi and Jeremiah. I felt light as air with his palm pressed up against mine. Like without his hand to anchor me I would float right over the garden, tugged away by all my happy thoughts, Mary Poppins style.

  “Have you ever brought anyone?” I asked, just daring him to ruin my perfect moment with the truth.

  “No,” said Mackey slowing to a stop. “We only bring someone when—” he stopped himself mid-sentence.

  “When what?” I asked, thinking I already knew what he had been about to say but hoping he’d say it, anyway.

  “When we really like someone,” he said, giving my hand the tiniest of squeezes. “I like you, Cub. And I know I’m not the guy you’re pining for, but I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to prove to you why I should be.”

  My brain was running a mile a minute. I’d liked Elliot for so long I didn’t even know if it was possible to like someone else. But every time I was around Mackey, it felt like the place I was supposed to be. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him, but when Anderson jumped into the path in front of us, I was so startled, I dropped Mackey’s hand.

  “She’s looking fantastic tonight per usual,” said Anderson, looking up at the Virgin Mary. “But I suppose you haven’t been looking at her,” he remarked, smirking at where our hands had previously been joined. Beside him, Linzie giggled, her once perfect blowout a little worse for wear. Mackey pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his khakis.

  “Man, that was a fast half hour,” he said, sounding disappointed. We’d been so wrapped up in our conversation neither of us has realized how quickly the time was passing or how far we’d gone along the path.

  Roughly fifty feet ahead of us stood the Virgin Mary. Her statue was encased in a small opening, high above an alcove where visitors lit and left candles below. Climbing ivy curled its way up the rock formation, circling her feet before winding its way up the cave wall behind her. The Christmas lights that filled the rest of the garden were absent from the cave but, it didn’t matter. Even if you weren’t in the Grotto, you would be able to make out the shape of her, the whole cave glowed from the candles lit below. I watched as Anderson and Mackey each grabbed a candle from the table beneath the cave. Together they walked into the alcove.

  “Am I the only one who didn’t know those two were Catholic?” I asked looking over at Sammi, Beth, and Linzie.

  “CEO Catholics,” said Beth with a giggle. I felt kind of stupid for having to ask, but I had no idea what different sects of Catholicism there were.

  “CEO?”

  “Christmas and Easter Only. As in that is the only time they darken the church’s doors.”

  “Gotcha, except now,” I said, wat
ching as Mackey tilted the wick of his long white candle into the flame of another then placed it on one of the many stone shelves carved into the alcove.

  “You don’t have to go to church to light a candle at the Grotto,” said Beth. “We can do it too.”

  “I’m freezing my butt off,” said Linzie, picking at her nails and bouncing up and down on her ridiculous open-toed shoes.

  “Maybe if you had bothered to cover it up,” proclaimed Sammi giving Linzie a teasing shrug.

  Linzie scowled, pulling at the hem of her tiny black shorts. “I still don’t understand what the point of this is.”

  “The point,” interrupted Mackey, returning from the alcove. “Is to ask the Virgin Mary for something. Something you want but don’t know if you can achieve on your own.”

  “Pray for,” said Anderson shaking his head, “You pray for something you want but don’t know if you can achieve on your own.”

  “Like a win against Pinebrook,” said Sammi with a smirk.

  “Bigger than that,” said Anderson.

  “Like a kiss from a girl you like,” said Preston wrapping his arms around Beth’s middle and pulling her close.

  Of the three of us, Beth was the only girl to have been to the Grotto before. I watched as she leaned into Preston’s arms, staring up at the statue in reverence as if it were her first time and the wind wasn’t cutting through her thin sweater. Maybe that was what made her Preston’s someone special.

  I turned to look at Mackey. I wanted to see his face illuminated by the lights of the garden as he looked on at the statue. Only he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at me. Our eyes met, like that time in the gym, this time I didn’t turn away.

  The eight of us stood there, watching as people came and went, lighting candles, making Catholic wishes, as Beth called them, until the groundskeeper made his final rounds, clicking off all of the Christmas lights behind us as we exited the garden and returned to the parking lot. Mackey and I drove in silence. I wanted to tell him all the things I had been thinking before we were interrupted but somewhere between the Grotto and the car my courage went MIA. I thanked him for taking me, and he thanked me for going, but there was no walking me to my door. No leaning in for a sweet first kiss, warm lips making you forget about cold night air. There was just goodnight and see you in the morning. Maybe he thought my saying nothing at all meant no.

  I should have lit a candle. I should have made a wish. To win American High School Journalist of the year or the scholarship I needed to make my dreams of attending Northwestern a reality. But it was Mackey’s wish I thought of as I lay in bed. What did he wish for? Maybe, I wished it too.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dear Jillie,

  I wish you were here. If you were maybe you could smack some sense into me. Is the way I feel about Mackey ruining my chances with Elliot or is it the other way around? I’m not completely dense. I know that Elliot doesn’t have half the feelings for me that I have for him, but I can’t erase years of pining just because someone else is showing a little interest. I know what you’re thinking, ANY interest. Someone else is showing interest period. No one asked for your sass!

  What do you do when you like all the college boys at once? You do want them all right? I am holding on to hope that college is one giant boy buffet where everyone admires me for my brilliant mind and cool collection of Funko Pop keychains. If that isn’t the case, I would prefer that you keep it to yourself. I am full up on disappointment.

  Disappointment

  (Lane Crawford Definition)

  A weekend spent in proximity to father.

  You would think that paternal Thanksgiving visit number five would be a marked improved from my first visit when he left me at Barnes and Noble then tried to make up for it by taking me to an animated movie. As if I have ever held any affection for musical cartoons! Emotionally my father and I remain on two separate continents. Don’t worry I won’t be attempting to breach the great divide at tomorrow’s basketball tournament. If anything I will be doing my best to appear aloof. I wouldn’t want him to pick up on the fact that I enjoy basketball now and attempt to connect with me. That would be like way too Hallmark for my liking.

  See you when I see you.

  Love,

  Lane

  It had been a long time since my father and I spent any time together outside of his home. I’d begun to think his butt was permanently fused to his leather office chair. So when he entered the formal living room in a windbreaker and baseball cap, I nearly choked on my breakfast bar.

  “Good morning, kiddo! Ready to go?”

  I swallowed hard, wiping the crumbs from the corner of my mouth. I guess I thought this day would be like the half-dozen other times we made plans. Me waiting, him constantly saying “just five more minutes.”

  “One sec,” I answered heading to the foyer to grab my bag from the large mahogany coat hanger that sat just inside the front door. When I returned, Dad had company.

  “Not today Quinn. Daddy needs to spend some time with his big girl, okay?” His big girl? Yuck, suddenly kiddo wasn’t so obnoxious. Quinn peered up at him with big pleading eyes.

  “I won’t get in the way,” she begged.

  My father shook his head, “We’ll do something together later. Okay?”

  Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew as well as I did what an empty promise looked like. I watched as she shuffled over to the couch, plopping down with her bottom lip out. My mother would have said, ‘stick that thing out any further, and the birds will poop on it.’

  My father said nothing. I knew I was going to regret it, but I couldn’t just let her sit there pouting. Not when she was all dressed up for the tournament in an adorable purple t-shirt with an orange and silver basketball stitched on the front in hundreds of tiny sequins.

  “I don’t know Dad. She could come in handy.” I said, stepping into the living room. “I do need a scribe. It’s pretty much required that all reporters bring a scribe with them.”

  Dad looked confused. “Is that so?”

  “Oh absolutely,” I lied. “But they have to have good handwriting.”

  Quinn’s eyes lit up, “I do!”

  “And like popcorn,” I added.

  “Those do seem like important things,” said Dad, trying to hide a smile.

  Quinn’s eyes lit up like the candles on a birthday cake. “Does this mean I can go?”

  Dad looked at me once more. “If your sister says you can go then–”

  “I can go!” she cried, flying off the couch and nearly squeezing me to death with a big fat thank you hug. I reached down to wrap my arms around her catching a glimpse of Judy in the doorframe over her shoulder. Was it just my imagination or had she gone all misty-eyed at the sight of our family moment?

  Quinn stepped back, putting one finger to her dimpled chin. She looked me up and down. “Come on,” she said, “We have to get ready.”

  “Get ready?” I asked.

  “You can’t go in that!” she giggled. I looked down at my outfit — jeans, a cashmere sweater and coordinating scarf.

  “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”

  Quinn rolled her eyes, “Mom!” she hollered, “It’s time.”

  I looked to my father for help, “Don’t look at me, kiddo. You’re the one that invited her along. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

  Half an hour later I stood in front of the mirror in Judy and Dad’s bedroom while mother and daughter stood behind me, enormous looks of satisfaction on their faces.

  “You think this is better than what I was wearing?” I asked doubtfully.

  The two nodded in unison.

  “Time to go!” hollered Dad from the bottom of the stairs. Technically time to go had come and gone twenty minutes ago.

  “Thanks?” I said, still pretty sure I looked ridiculous but left with no time to change back.

  Judy ushered the two of us out the door. I wondered if she was grateful to have Quinn out of her hair
while she prepared the holiday dinner or sad to have to do it alone.

  If one of Judy’s themed bedrooms had come to life, the result would be Quinn and I walking down those stairs in our all-basketball-all-the-time outfits. Judy had matched the silver sequins on Quinn’s shirt with a pair of metallic shorts and high top jordans, purple swoosh to match her top. She was going to freeze her tail off for the sake of fashion, just like the girls last night. Judy at least had the good sense to let her wear a track jacket. The number 23 was embroidered on the back in Quinn’s favorite color. Custom work like that had to be done ahead of time making me highly suspicious that her living room begging had all been an act.

  My outfit was every bit as over the top, just the teen version. The starting five were going to have a field day making fun of my completely scuff free, fresh out of the box Jordan Concord 11’s and tailored Kevin Durant Seattle Sonic’s jersey.

  We were too late for the good seats. If you wanted to sit courtside at the Turkey Day Tournament, you had to arrive before the end of the first quarter. Instead, we made our way to the tippy top of the bleachers. Dad didn’t seem to mind.

  “It’s better from up here. You can see the whole play formation this way. When you're too close, you miss things,” said Dad.

  Quinn nodded in agreement. “You miss things,” she parroted as if basketball spectating were something they did together on a regular basis.

  Watching her made me sad. I remembered what it felt like to worship Dad, to hold tight to all those moments he made you feel special just by being present. I couldn’t however, allow myself to feel that way now, not when I couldn’t share that feeling with Mom. It didn’t feel fair that I could keep my family and she couldn’t.

  Quinn balanced a large purple notebook on her knobby bare knees. It looked like a feather boa had been glued to the cover. I wasn’t one bit surprised to see that the pen my scribe brought to record important game information was a purple plume, the feather of which extended a full five inches, tickling my arm beside her.