by Hazel Grace
And I’ve accepted that.
It sucks, but Gavin is an asshole, and I’m no better than him. Two dickheads with big egos going to school together with a bunch of college girls. We’ll be fighting in no time because he’ll flunk out, and I would’ve wasted time trying to help him.
It still does nothing for me when it comes to Sawyer.
I’m selfish as hell when it comes to her, and I want to experience everything just once. A dance, a kiss, her arms wrapped around my neck, and her body swaying with mine. I hate dancing, but I’d push that aside just to hold her in my arms where it’d be socially acceptable. People expected shit out of me, a scene or my big mouth to tell someone off but not her. Not with her kind eyes and the way she accepts everyone no matter their status at school.
“Meet me outside the west side exit door in five minutes,” I convey. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
She opens her eyes, scouring my face. “For what?”
I roll my eyes. “Bases. Just do it.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Please,” I coerce. “No one will see us there.”
“That’s the point.” I ignore her because she’s right, and I just don’t want to consent to it.
“Five minutes,” I repeat because I don’t want more people to notice and get her on the Monday morning gossip waves.
Not waiting for another answer, I walk away, making my way through the crowd and out through the school hallways. I take the long way around so nosey eyes don’t put two and two together with us going out the same door.
When I’m outside, anxiety wafts through me. The gym exit that I asked her to walk through connects to the secluded service docks of the school, so I’m not worried about anyone being here to see us. But, just to be on the safe side, I scan the area for any couples trying to get lucky in my spot.
Another song muffles through the steel doors of the gym and still no Sawyer. Yet another stupid ass idea and every single one of them lately includes her. Disappointment starts to build within me, and I don’t know what to do to get her to just...I have no clue.
Like me?
Trust me?
Fucking talk to me?
The metal click of a door sounds, making me turn toward the gym doors as they open, and Sawyer peers out. Her eyes land on me, giving her the courage to walk through them.
My lips curve into a smile as I state the obvious. “You came.”
“It was either that or you hovering over me all night and harassing me,” she answers, her arms wrapped across her body.
“You bring something out in me,” I respond truthfully.
“Lucky me,” she grumbles.
“Anyone see you?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She looks around the deserted dock. “Are we going to get in trouble for being out here?” I step closer to her, fighting the urge to pull her to me.
She’s so damn magnetic. It’s all I ever want to do is be near her. She’s become more than a hobby but a fixation and compulsion to make her see me differently.
“No one comes out here after school hours,” I transmit, taking her in again.
She looks absolutely beautiful. The color of the dress blends with her skin, the sheer fabric covers the dip toward her breast, reminding me of the white cover-up she wore the first night I noticed her.
And here we are.
She nods. “Okay.”
I hold out a hand to her. “Dance with me?”
She tightens her arms around her waist. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I normally don’t.”
“Is this a spite thing to get back at—” I’m on her, but keep my hands to myself. Smelling her rose-infused perfume and noticing for the millionth time that she is the perfect height for me.
“Don’t say his name,” I warn. “It’s bad enough you did what you did.”
She stares at me. “Why do you keep bringing that up? Go kiss someone if you need to be kissed so much.”
“I prefer girls who trip over bases.”
She rolls her eyes. “My God…” My palm finds her hip, and I slowly pull her to me, feeling her tense underneath my touch.
“Relax, Bases. I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Promise?” I nod, shaking off my rising annoyance.
God, does she think I’m a bad kisser or something?
“Promise,” I commit half-heartedly, extending my other hand out for her. She takes it, tensing under my touch. “You look beautiful.”
Her head jerks up to me. “What?” God, she really doesn’t know, does she?
“I said, you look beautiful,” I repeat.
“Oh.” She bows her head slightly, looking into my chest. “Thank you.”
Sluggishly, we start to circle and sway, our chests an inch away from each other. “If You’re Not the One” by Daniel Bedingfield seeps through the doors, setting a weird mood around us.
She’s anxious.
And I don’t slow dance. Not with innocent girls.
But I’ll be damned if I don’t experience it with Sawyer Boyd at least once in my life.
Ten years ago
I’m haunted every time he touches me. But this time...it's different.
This time, he’s gentle and cautious as though I’m going to flee and run back into the packed gym filled with teenagers. I’d rather stay out here with the soft, muffled music underneath the stars and in the dark but not with the guy holding me in his arms.
Not moving gracefully in circles, his searing flesh cupping my hand and wrapped around my waist. Every red flag and warning scream at me that this is a bad idea, that he is going to ruin me in God knows what kind of way.
But another part of me doesn’t care.
I want to experience him for every tint and tone that makes him up. Every person should experience heartbreak, right? Especially a naive teenage girl like me who has transformed more within a year in this small town than my whole life in the big city. They make you who you are, reshaping you into an adult, and if I’m going to have an epic heartbreak, Colson Hayes is perfect for the job.
Thing is, will I be strong enough to pick myself back up?
“Are you nervous to be out here with me?” Colson hedges.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t meet them. I can’t because my cheeks are starting to colorize into a nice shade of crimson, which makes my face look blotchy and weird with my red hair.
I shake my head. “No.”
“You sure,” he prodes. “Because you haven’t looked at me yet.”
Shit, I can’t stand him.
I bring myself to peer up at him, meeting his amber eyes filled with something I can’t name but something I’ve seen before.
I have no clue what’s going through his head, never have, more than likely never will either. He’s confusing, infuriating, and the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life. And I don't feel like I’ve even scratched the surface yet.
“Better?” I ask, because I need to keep my head on straight by trying to sound confident and unaffected.
“Much better.” He exhales an unsteady breath and straightens, now averting his eyes from mine. “God, you make this so hard.”
His voice is soft but his words are hard.
Tell me about it.
It’s difficult to hate him. It’s undoable to stay out of sight because, somehow, he always shows up. And it’s annoyingly obvious not to want to be caught up in his eyes, watching them light up in amusement or fury.
“Hard?” I press, trying to relax in his hold. I am a bundle of jitters and wrecked nerves as he keeps the lead of our dance, swaying us to the music. My palm itches on his shoulder to feel his chest where his heart resides. Does his heart stampede in his chest like mine does when he’s so close and unrealistic?
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“Did you want to—” I loosen my grip on his hand, and he clasps his fingers tighter around it.
“If you leave me now, Bas
es,” he vows slowly. “I swear it’ll only get worse.”
“I’m...sorry,” I blurt because I don’t know what else to say.
We’re in a vortex, not stupid enough to delve into what this is. Why we always end up in an awkward, is-the-other-person-feeling-the-same-way kind of scenario.
“I promised,” he quakes. “Remind me that I promised.”
My lungs disable, I can’t push words from my mouth, the only thing that seems to be functioning are my eyelashes blinking at him.
“You...promised,” I stutter. He gives me a curt nod and blows out another breath through his lips. But what’s the worst that could happen from one kiss?
He’ll never stop following you around.
Maybe if he thinks it sucked he’d flip roles and start dodging me. Crap, I don’t think I could force myself to kiss like a fish if I wanted to. I know I’d melt, it’d be electric, and I’d be addicted.
My mind kicks around ideas and theories back and forth, telling me to just get it over with and kiss the stupid guy. Why does everything have to be a thing with him anyway?
“Why did you lie about coming to the dance?” he breaks through my thought process. “It’s not like you can’t dance or pull a dress off, I’ve seen you do both.”
The corners of my lips lift. “I don’t think you categorize my dancing as epic or even worth mentioning.”
He bobs his head. “I wouldn’t put you in a dance contest or anything but you kept my attention and some other guys’ at Liam’s party.”
“You’re guys.” I roll my eyes. “Anything with a chest and long hair gets your attention.”
He perks a brow. “Do you see me dating anyone?”
“You don’t date.”
“Because...no one has gotten my attention.”
I tsk. “No, because you’re leaving here. You don’t want strings, the awkward conversation of breaking up, or the needy girlfriend clinging to your arm. You want to...do whatever it is that you do in your free time.”
“And what do you think I do in my free time?”
Things I don’t want to think about because it makes me...the “J” word.
“You probably have a list that you make on the weekends about who you’re going to harass next,” I state. He chuckles, one that vibrates through my body as well.
“Sounds like a lot of work,” he replies. “And country girls around here are needy, it’s because they have nothing to do but think about boys.”
“Same goes for you guys,” I counter. He looks down at me, his eyes glistening in mischief.
“You think I’m scared of having an awkward conversation with girls?”
“No, because that’s all ours have been.”
He shrugs and breaks his gaze. “Wasn’t weird for me when you held my hand in my truck. Or when I kissed your cheek in that cove on the beach. Or—”
“Because you don’t have a conscious apparently, Hayes,” I reprimand. Colson’s fingers tap on my back like he’s thinking.
“I have a conscious,” he finally says after a moment. “I’m smart enough to know when I’m not wanted. Might take me awhile—” he looks at me again. “—because I might not like the result, but it’ll sink in.”
“Hence your almost perfect GPA.”
“Hence where we differ, Bases. You’re a coward, I’m a realist.” I pull as far back as he’ll let me, which isn’t far.
“I’m not a coward,” I counter. “I told you that—”
“That you didn’t want to start any shit with Gavin while he’s fucking every pity-party chick that will approach him. Why are you worrying about what he might think or anyone else for that matter? I’m not saying jump my dick but at least think about it.”
“Geezus,” I choke, letting my hand slide from his shoulder. My whole body is on fire, and he just made everything worse.
“God, I didn’t mean it like—hold on,” he quickly backpedals. “I just meant to say that you’re living in the shadows while he’s living his best life. Do you want him to know that you’re scared of him? That he has you cowering because you don’t want the backlash of the lies he’s spilling. He cheated on you, Sawyer, and he’s the one reaping the rewards. You’ve seen him now, what lies underneath the mellow-out mask, but he’s an asshole. Just like me, we’re both...assholes.”
“You called me Sawyer,” I point out quietly.
His brows narrow. “Geezus, was that seriously all you took from that?”
My lips crack into a smile, and he rolls his eyes. I don’t know when we stopped dancing, when the music picked up, or even how long we’ve been out here, but I don’t want to go back inside. I’d rather stay right here with him.
“I heard you,” I tell him. “I’ll...keep trying.”
“Good.” He nods. “And just pull a page out of your little book of pranks if he tries to pull some shit.”
I chortle. “Oh, no, those are all yours, my friend. I’m just waiting for you to make a move.”
He grins. “I will. Soon.”
Present day
The sharp blare of Ben’s whistle shrieks in my left ear, making me jump out of my skin. It pulls me out of my inner turmoil, the same one that slays and prods at me to remember every small detail of this town. My home. Where I was born and how Dad and I dreamed about my joining the major leagues. The girls I had crushes on and the one who decimated my entire life. They were so different between now and then, I’m just older now. The same feelings still resonated within me, the same bullshit schemes and my glancing around everywhere I go to see if I’ll grab a glimpse of her.
The same self-doubt and uncertainty of us.
The painful part was that I was able to experience “us” for a while. I got a taste of how things would’ve been, how we would’ve been together and loved each other. I loved Sawyer way before I knew it and also thought possible. And if that love was as strong as I thought it was, why couldn’t I just let her be happy. Why wouldn’t I let myself be happy?
Ben blows on his whistle, again right by my ear, and I smack it out of his hands instinctively.
“Dude,” I snap. “Watch where you’re blowing that thing. This isn’t fucking football practice.”
“It’s effective,” Ben insists casually, showing zero worry or remorse that he may have just blown my eardrum out. “Gets them to listen.”
I shoot him a scowl. “They won’t hear you if you keep blowing that thing by people’s ears.”
All I get is a half-ass shrug. Maybe it was in the water that no one gave a shit. I didn’t, never really did until Sawyer showed up in Freemont, and then she was all I could focus on. Everyone else did what they wanted, dated, slept with, carried on with their lives. I drank the same shit unless my mother did something magical with our water. It wouldn’t surprise me with how extra she always was.
“My bad,” Ben alludes. “Got tired of yelling at them every damn five minutes.”
“So, you bought a whistle to make everyone go deaf and make it worse?” He doesn’t get to answer me, our players are rounding up around us to get the summary of what’s going to happen this week.
“Alright, listen up,” I bellow so everyone can hear me. “Our game with Alpena is this Friday, I want you all geared up and ready by five. We’ll do a thirty-minute warm-up and see who they got this year when we give them the field to do theirs. Keep doing your stretches at night, drink a lot of water, and—”
“Coach, is Jace playing?” Lucas asks me.
Every eyeball falls on me.
“We’re getting that sorted out right now,” I reply quickly so that I don’t get a chance to sink back into being pissed off again. “We have parent-teacher conferences tonight so, Jace, we’ll get to speak to your history teacher.”
I find him through the crowd, and he nods, tucking his chin into his chest.
Geezus, Christ.
“How about Kyle?” someone else asks me.
My eyes furrow. “What about him?”
“He bombed his
Algebra exam today,” Harris offers with a snicker. Kyle smacks him upside the head.
“Shut the fuck up, man,” he snaps. “It’s not making me fail the whole class like your dumbass in English.” Harris turns around to face him, cranking his whole neck to look into his face because Kyle is so Goddamn tall.
“Make me, you tall ass piece of—”
“Hey!” I thunder. “Both of you shut the hell up and pay attention.” Ben elbows me for my choice of language and blows his fucking whistle again.
“Geezus fucking Christ,” I murmur, turning my head toward him. I lean closer to whisper in his ear. “If you blow that thing one more time, I’m going to make you swallow the damn thing.” He chuckles and clasps the annoying thing protectively in his hand.
I straighten and turn my focus back on my team, the only thing that matters right now and after this long ass practice is over. I need to prioritize Jace and make sure he gets to play on Friday and not have a suspension on his record for the scouts.
“We’ll take it easy tomorrow,” I continue to my team. “But it doesn’t mean you get to fuc—mess around.” I jerk my head back toward the school. “Get out of here and have a good night. Jace, I’ll see you at your conference with your history teacher.”
He gives me a nod while he follows his team off the field, leaving me with my next line of business—Ben’s whistle.
He’s losing that thing today.
“Now,” I assert at Ben. “Let’s talk about that fucking piece of metal that you keep scaring the shit out of people with.”
“You mean, just you,” Ben chortles, still holding onto the stupid thing for dear life.
“Yeah, that and—” A slow clapping cuts me off, making Ben and I turn in the direction of it.
“Amazing speech, Coach,” crows a male voice still smacking his hands together. The sun blinds his face, another element to bug the hell out of me.
Blind and deaf in one day, sounds like the perfect day on the field.
I cup my hand over my eyes to block out the sun’s rays, taking in jeans, an Oklahoma Sooner’s T-Shirt, and broad shoulders. Squinting, more of his features appear, and I wish they hadn’t.
I pray that this is all a bad fucking dream. That I can wash this fucking day away along with Ben’s new toy and this parent-teacher conference that I have to go to tonight.