by L A Cotton
“Thanks, Coach.” I barely got the words out over the lump in my throat.
He gave me a small nod. “Now get in there with the rest of them.”
As I walked off field, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be normal. To walk out tomorrow with my family, a girlfriend maybe. People who loved me unconditionally, not because of who I was and where I was going, but for the person behind the jersey.
The person behind Rixon’s golden boy of football.
I couldn’t even remember the person I was before. Before Varsity football, and state records; before being scouted by some of the best colleges in the country. Most people spent their whole lives chasing their dreams, trying to turn fantasy into reality. Yet, here I was, barely eighteen, with the whole world at my feet. My dreams were right there for the taking. It should have been the best fucking time of my life and it had been until recently. Until I started to care. But I couldn’t afford to care. I couldn’t afford to open myself up to distractions. To make myself vulnerable. Not now. Not when I was so close.
Later that evening, I found myself in the last place I wanted to be: riding with Hailee in awkward as fuck silence. She didn’t mention Felicity and I didn’t ask. I figured her lack of third degree meant Felicity was keeping secrets from her best friend, which suited me just fine.
“Thanks for helping me do this,” she finally said as we pulled up outside the side entrance to the Arts Department.
“Yeah, well, Coach gave me no choice.” I dragged a hand down my face.
“I see.” Her expression hardened. “I just thought... It doesn’t matter, come on.” Hailee climbed out of my car and I let out a heavy sigh, thumping the wheel. It wasn’t supposed to sound so bitter, but it was too late now. Reluctantly, I shouldered the door and followed Hailee into the building.
“So there are nine portraits in total,” she said without looking at me. “Each one has been wrapped for transportation and Coach and Mr. Jalin already took the display equipment over to his house.
“Got it.” The Arts Studio wasn’t a part of school I was familiar with, but Hailee seemed completely at ease as she guided us through the network of adjoining rooms. The air was thick with the smell of paint and cleaning fluid.
“It takes some getting used to.”
Silence settled between us. But it felt suffocating.
“So art, huh? Cameron says you’re pretty good.”
“I hope so since it would be kind of embarrassing if Coach unveils the portraits and they resemble children’s artwork.” Her lips curved slightly, and I found myself smiling back.
“I guess it was a dumb question.”
“Not dumb,” she gave me a half-smile. “I know this is weird for you, Jason. Me being a part of your life. But it would make things a lot easier if we could at least try to get along?”
“It’d really piss our parents off.” I smirked. But Hailee’s smile was gone. “You want to forgive her?”
“I don’t want to forgive her, no, but I don’t know how much longer I can freeze her out. It’s senior year. I leave for college next year.” Sadness edged into her expression.
“So, what? They get a free pass just because we’re flying the nest?”
“Jason,” Hailee pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you find it exhausting all the time?” When I looked at her with a blank expression, she added, “Holding onto so much hate and bitterness?”
“I don’t hate everything.”
She gave me a pointed look and I felt my jaw clench. “You don’t know what it’s like to never know someone’s motives, to not know who you can trust,” I said. “People think it’s so easy being the hotshot football player, but do you know how old I was when scouts first started approaching me?”
“Thirteen?”
“Eleven. I was in sixth grade. While most kids were playing king of the hill and capture the flag, I was running drills and working with my dad on conditioning programs.” Because there was no other path for me. I was going to fulfill his dream whether I liked it or not.
“I had no idea—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrugged dismissively, kicking the floor with my sneaker. “By the time you arrived in Rixon, I’d caught the eye of four Division One teams. Four. People started taking notice. Suddenly my life wasn’t my own; it was my old man’s, my football coach’s, even the town’s. When all I wanted was to play football.”
I always loved the game, that was never the issue. But I hadn’t realized back then, that one day, it would mean shouldering the expectation of an entire town.
A flicker of sympathy passed over Hailee’s face.
“Shit, you don’t want to hear this, we should probably—”
“Thank you,” she said, “For telling me.”
Why had I told her?
It was a long time ago and I wasn’t a kid anymore. Being in the spotlight came with the territory, and the light would only get brighter when I went to college. To survive you had to build walls. Maybe I’d built them higher than others, but it was only because I wanted it more than most.
“It explains a lot.” A smirk tugged at her mouth.
“Oh yeah?”
“All that pressure, the expectation… it explains why you’re a grade-A asshole.” Hailee laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. But I didn’t laugh. I didn’t even smile. Because she was right.
I was an asshole because I could be. People treated me like the prodigal son of football and somewhere along the way, I started acting like it. But what most people didn’t realize was, it was a defense mechanism. A way to protect myself.
“I’m joking, Jason.” Hailee added when I didn’t reply.
“No you’re not.”
“Then maybe, but now? Now, you’re not so bad.” She grabbed the door handle to studio two and slipped inside. “What the—” Her words trailed off and I stepped up behind her to see what had rendered her speechless.
Art supplies were strewn everywhere. Red and white paint was splashed up the walls, and across the canvasses lying haphazardly around the place.
“I can’t believe someone did this.” Hailee’s voice trembled as she swiped tears from her eyes. “It’s all ruined; the Seniors Night project is ruined.”
I looked at my step-sister, the person whose life I’d made a misery in the past, and felt like the worst kind of shit. For so long, I’d used Hailee as a punching bag to deal with my anger at her mother and now she was being used in the same way by someone else.
All because of me.
For a moment it was like I was looking in on us, for the first time actually looking beyond the armor I put around myself, the ‘hurt people before they hurt me’ principles I lived by, and I didn’t like what I saw.
I stepped closer to her and I put my hand on her arm, causing her to jump slightly, as her attention shifted from the ruined canvasses. “We got this, okay? What do you want me to do to help?”
Hailee took a deep breath. “Can you help me get them back on the stands?”
I nodded.
The silence was deafening as we worked together to clean up the studio. I spotted my face amongst the chaos. Cam’s too. Some of the canvasses looked worse off than others. When we stood back to survey the wreckage, Hailee let out an exasperated breath. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” her body shook with anger. “Tell me Thatcher didn’t break in and ruin my hard work because of some stupid football rivalry. Tell me, Jason.” Her eyes flew to mine, pinning me to the spot, making me feel five inches tall.
“I can’t,” I ground out, my fists curled tightly against my thighs as I took in the devastation. Art wasn’t my thing, but I knew how hard Hailee had worked on the project. How many hours it had taken her to paint each portrait.
A beat passed.
Another.
Until I could hear nothing but the roar of blood between my ears, the thud thud thud of my heart against my ribcage. “I’m so fucking sorry,” the words sliced through the air like
a hot blade through ice, as my fist smashed into the wall.
“Shit, Jason,” Hailee rushed over to me, trying to get a look at my hand. But I shook her off, cradling it against my chest.
“It’s fine,” I said. It wasn’t, but I’d had worse. It was nothing a little ice and a few shots of whisky wouldn’t solve.
“You weren’t supposed to see it until tonight.” She sniffled, ignoring my apology.
“I never realized you were so talented.” Even covered in red and white paint splatters, I could make out the intricate detail of my helmet, the way my shirt seemed to ripple as I hiked the ball. It wasn’t just good.
It was fucking incredible.
“You should have seen them before...” she trailed off, sadness radiating from her.
“Can you fix them?” The one of me was the most affected but at least four seemed to have escaped the paint splatters.
“I’m not sure. I’ll need to talk to Mr. Jalin.”
“Hailee—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Jason, and I get it. If we bring Thatcher into this, Principal Finnigan will intervene. But I have to tell Jalin. I’ll think of something to protect you, but everyone’s going to know something happened when we unveil them tomorrow. Maybe if we get this place tidied up and I speak to him, we can control the story.”
It wasn’t ideal. But it wasn’t like we had a list of options.
“When did you get so devious?” I asked around a half-smirk, brushing over the fact she was prepared to lie to protect me because I didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.
“I learned from the best.” She shot me a knowing look.
“You know, if I didn’t hate you so much, I think I could probably grow to like you.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual.” Hailee mirrored my expression. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do if we want to get this place tidied up before class tomorrow.”
I pulled out my cell phone.
“What are you doing?” Hailee sounded wary.
“Calling in reinforcements.”
Chapter Nineteen
Felicity
“Want to talk about it?” Mya asked me.
“Nope. I want to get wasted, flirt with cute guys, and then eat my body weight in ice cream. Maybe not in that order.” I took a long pull on the liquor Mya had sequestered off her grandmother. It almost blew my brains out the first sip I had, but at least it left me numb.
“I hate to break it to you,” my partner in crime said, “but I’m not exactly sure this is the place to meet guys.”
We were down by the river, huddled on a bench. It probably wasn’t my brightest idea ever, but I couldn’t sit at home, wallowing. Deflecting Mom’s incessant questions. It wasn’t like I could call Hailee; not when she was off with Jason preparing for the Seniors Night thing tomorrow. At least it was family and close friends of the team only. I wouldn’t have to survive sitting there, watching him, remembering how he made me feel... how he trampled all over any hopes of there being something real between us.
Fuck you right out of my head.
He hadn’t meant to say the words. I’d seen the surprise in his dark eyes, the flash of panic. Any other girl would have probably slapped him across the face and run a mile. But not me.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“You’re in deep with him,” Mya said, and my head whipped up to hers.
“Huh?” I slurred.
“I said, ‘you’re in deep with him’.”
“I’m not... I wasn’t supposed—”
“Girl, we both know it doesn’t work like that. You don’t get to decide who you fall in love with.”
“I’m not in love with him.”
“Maybe not now. But it’s there, inside you. You want him.”
“I do,” I admitted, my eyes darting to the ground beneath me. “He’s different with me.”
“They always are,” she sighed, her voice distant.
“Your ex?”
She gave a small nod. “Reeled me in before I could even see what was happening.”
“He hurt you?”
“He didn’t just hurt me,” Mya gave me a sad smile, “he completely destroyed me. Jermaine was my best friend growing up. Our momma’s were girlfriends, got pregnant together, raised us together. We were all tight.”
“What happened?” I asked, surprised Mya was finally opening up to me.
“He fell into a bad crowd. At first it was just young boys thinking they be gangsters. But last year, things changed. He changed. He was the same old Jermaine when it was just the two of us, but he started running for a crew. I begged him to stop, but money talks and he thought he was invincible.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” I grumbled.
“Jermaine wasn’t involved in some high school football rivalry, Felicity. He was running drugs and errands for the kind of people you don’t say no to.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heated.
“I know this rivalry has you all on edge,” her expression softened, “but it’s not life or death.”
“Did Jermaine—”
“Die? No, but he did get taught a lesson after he screwed up, and I...” Mya gulped, her whole demeanor turning dark. “I was collateral.”
My eyes grew to saucers. “You mean you were... hurt?”
She nodded slowly. “My momma finally told J we were done and she shipped me off to the ass crack of nowhere to finish up senior year. I haven’t heard from Jermaine since.” My new friend shrugged as if it was nothing, but pain radiated from her.
“You’ll be safer here,” I said, as if that mattered.
“Safe but not whole. I spent my entire life with Jermaine at my side. Even though I know it’s for the best, even though I know I couldn’t stand by any longer and watch him ruin his life, it doesn’t make it any easier. If I’m not there, who’s going to protect him?” A single tear slipped from the corner of Mya’s eye, but she quickly swallowed the rest down, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d been through to have hardened so much.
“He’ll be okay,” I added.
She gave a little shrug. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
But something told me it did. She was lying to herself. Just like I’d been lying to myself. About Jason. About my perfectly mapped out future courtesy of my parents.
“So what’s the history between you and Jason?”
“That is a story for another day.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Mya gave me a pointed look.
“Jason is … well, he’s complicated. He’s always been this asshole, you know? Untouchable. Cold. Cruel. He made Hailee’s life hell ever since she moved to Rixon. I never liked him, hated what he stood for, how he treated her.”
“What changed?”
“Everything.” I smiled sadly. “Everything changed. I started to see glimpses of behind his mask, and I was so sick of being the good girl. Of being the girl always overlooked. And he’d look at me with this intensity… But it was nothing more than a game.”
A game I’d lost.
Silence descended over us while we both got lost thinking about the guys in our life we wanted but couldn’t have. I grabbed the bottle of liquor and took another mouthful, wanting nothing more than to erase the pit in my stomach.
“You’re vibrating,” Mya said after a couple of minutes. “It’s Hailee.”
“Let it go to voicemail.” I waved her off, tracing patterns into the fluffy white clouds drifting across the dusky sky. The vibrations finally stopped, only to start again seconds later.
“She’s calling again.”
“She probably just wants to tell me all about Cameron. He’s always doing cute things for her.”
“He seems nice.”
“He’s the best,” I sighed dreamily.
“Makes you wonder why a guy like him is friends with a guy like Ja—”
“Nope.” My head snapped over to Mya. “You promised. No talking about him.”
&nbs
p; “I know, but—”
“No buts, Mya, please.”
“Okay.” She held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset, I’m just...”
What was I? Hurt? That was a given. Embarrassed? Dreadfully so. But most of all, I was annoyed at myself. At how easily I’d given in to Jason’s charms, when all along I knew it was a game. A game that, once upon a time, I had no intention of playing.
Gah. I was so stupid. Jason had played me hook, line, and sinker. Letting me believe I had the upper hand, that I was calling the shots, only to rip the ground out from beneath me.
“She’s still calling,” Mya’s concern perforated my bubble. “Maybe you should take it?” She handed me my cell.
“Hey, Hails,” I tried my best at sounding sober.
“Thank God,” my best friend sounded fraught. “I’ve been trying to call you for the last five minutes.”
“Sorry, I was just... downstairs getting a drink.” It was almost true.
Mya shot me a bemused look. “What?” I mouthed, shrugging. She rolled her eyes and went back to whatever—or whoever—had her attention on her cell.
“The portraits...” It was only then I realized she sounded upset.
“What happened?” I bolted upright, dread creeping up my spine.
“Thatcher, he... he completely trashed the studio.”
“He didn’t?” I gasped, my eyes growing to saucers. Hailee had slaved for hours over the Seniors Night project. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad.” She sniffled and I knew she was probably putting on a brave front. “The guys helped me tidy up most of the mess but at least two portraits are ruined.”
“Oh God, Hails, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it sucks. Mr. Jalin thinks we can still pull something off in time for tomorrow, but I’m not so sure.”
“How’s Ja—” His name stuck in my throat.
“He’s acting surprisingly cool. But I know he’s already plotting revenge. He just has this look, you know?”