Well, that’s a new one.
“That’s me.” I glanced down at her uniform, quirking an eyebrow. “I take it you’re a football fan?”
She followed my gaze and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, huge. Don’t let the uniform fool you. I only did this because my best friend cheers and she begged me. But it was the only way I could be on the field during games because our coach wouldn’t let me otherwise. And I suck at taking pictures, so I couldn’t work for the yearbook. I don’t even know half the cheers—” She abruptly cut herself off, looking embarrassed again. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Yes, I love football. My brother actually plays at Oklahoma.”
That piqued my interest. “Really? What’s his name?”
“Drake Lawrence.”
Now both of my eyebrows lifted. “No shit? He’s probably the best tight end in the Big 12. All-American two years in a row.”
Her expression reflected both pride and approval, like I’d just passed some sort of test. “Soon to be three years in a row.”
If a dude like Drake Lawrence—one of the top high school recruits in the nation two years ago—hailed from Mason and was able to make a name for himself, I guess I still had an opportunity. There was still hope.
“Impressive. So, you’re telling me you’re, like, Mason royalty or something?”
Her head fell back as she laughed. It couldn’t have sounded sweeter to my ears. The rasp in her voice was much more pronounced in her laugh, making it sound almost husky.
Holy fuck, she’s sexy.
“Nah, I’ve got boobs, which means I’ll never get very far in this town. You just moved to one of the most old-fashioned areas in the whole South. Congratulations.”
It took every ounce of my self-control not to take a quick peek at those boobs, but I restrained myself. I deserved a damn high five for that one. Or a fucking medal.
“Oh, good. The girls in Atlanta weren’t really down for that whole barefoot and pregnant thing. This works out perfectly for me.”
She bit down on her lip, but the smile still escaped. “June Cleaver does it for you, huh?”
I clutched my chest in mock adoration. “Woman after my own heart. My sole purpose in life is to be a baby daddy.”
She showed me her crossed fingers. “One can only hope.”
We both chuckled. My heart sank when she looked up at the clock on the wall because I knew this conversation had to end.
“I’ve got to get to class. If I get one more tardy slip I’m going to get suspended. So,” she pointed at me, affecting a stern voice, “I was never here.”
I put up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute. “Your secret is safe with me. But won’t your teacher notice you sneaking in late?”
She shrugged. “Eh, Mrs. Julian is cool. She never gives me much grief.”
She started to back away but stopped when I spoke again. “I feel like I should get something in return for my silence. Keeping secrets can be difficult for me, you know. Just never know who I’ll blab to.”
I expected her to ask me what I wanted, though that was dangerous territory. I’d probably freak her out with all the things I was suddenly imagining. I couldn’t really explain it, but hitting on her just didn’t feel like the right way to end this moment. I enjoyed talking to her so much, I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about me. But damned if I’d let it go very long before I made my interest known.
She reached into her giant bag and pulled out a pack of Extra gum, placing a silver stick in my palm. In mock seriousness she said, “For your trouble.”
It was my turn to laugh this time, the sound trailing her as she took off down the hallway.
“I’ll see you later, Sam.”
Her smile over her shoulder and subsequent finger wave were the last images I had of her before she turned the corner.
From that moment on, I was forever lost for that girl.
And that was how I was introduced to someone who would become the most important person in my life.
With a stick of gum and a boner.
Chapter Three
“Smells Like Teen Spirit”
by Nirvana
Sam
“Hubba hubba. Do we know if Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous is single?”
The question from my best friend Jasmine dragged me out of my trance. It was weird, too, because I couldn’t even remember what had been so fascinating about my light fat yogurt. Everyone knew there was nothing interesting about light fat anything.
“First of all, did you just say ‘hubba hubba? What are you, the kooky grandma in a 90s sitcom?” She just giggled. “Second of all, we didn’t exactly discuss our relationship statuses, Jaz.”
She peeked up at me through her thick black lashes. “Because if you had you would have obviously told him about Trent, right?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course, I would have mentioned my boyfriend.”
She looked amused as she focused her attention back on the fashion magazine she was flipping through. “Just checking.”
All of us, Trent included, had grown up together in Mason. Two years ago, our long-time friendship had evolved into something more. I guess I’d blame it on the hormones because not much else had really changed between us. We were both still the same people. We just made out now. The relationship was comfortable and familiar and had started at a time in my life when I’d been desperate for both.
What had happened in the hallway with Kade earlier, though? That was neither comfortable nor familiar. The kind of sparks I’d felt zing through my body when we shook hands were a new sensation. I’d definitely never felt that around Trent. His smile didn’t make my heart race faster like Kade’s had, which was awful. And when was the last time I’d really laughed like that with Trent?
Not important.
I forced those thoughts from my mind. I was with Trent and that was that. He was a good guy, and we’d been friends a long time. You don’t throw something like that away after spending five minutes ogling another guy.
Speaking of ogling…
I peered out of the corner of my eye, zoning in on the table across the cafeteria where all our guy friends sat. Which now apparently included Kade. I barely withheld my wistful sigh. No one should look that good under the cafeteria’s fluorescent lights. I swear, it was like he’d stepped off the pages of Jasmine’s fashion magazines. Not because of his clothes but because of his face.
Hot diggity damn.
Despite his age, he resembled a model from one of those Armani cologne ads. His jawline was strong and square, his eyes a mesmerizing shade of hazel. His rich brown hair was shorter on the sides and longer on the top, with a slight curl to it that was both adorable and sexy. It made me want to run my fingers allll up in that.
And lord in heaven, that body.
His tall, built physique made him appear much older than his seventeen years. His arms were muscular and toned, his biceps bulging inside his T-shirt. His forearms were covered in a dusting of light brown hair that just screamed of masculinity. Dying to know what the rest looked like underneath that shirt, I was considering giving Jasmine all the cash in my wallet—probably a whopping six dollars—if she’d go over there and rip the thing off him.
Why did the mere thought of that fill me with horrible jealousy?
Where the hell was that coming from?
The realization that I didn’t like the idea of another girl touching Kade made me glance down the table at Trent. He was definitely cute with his floppy blond hair and bright blue eyes. He had a great smile and always smelled of Axe body spray. His style of dress was worn jeans and scuffed up boots, which was standard attire in a rural place like Mason. Overall, it was an appealing package.
Oh, my God.
Why was I comparing my boyfriend to the new guy?
Shame washed over me as I shifted my concentration back to my yogurt.
“I wonder which one of the Kardashian clones will go for him first,” Jaz muttered.
It was at that
moment the girls three tables down from us broke out in raucous cackles. Brandi, Tamara, Sheena, and Pauline. All four of them were future reality TV star hopefuls, constantly bragged about their long lost virginities, and had at least nine pregnancy scares between the four of them. They were classy as shiiit.
“Brandi for sure,” I answered, ignoring the snide tone of my voice. “She’s probably sharpening her talons as we speak.”
“Poor guy. Is he playing in the scrimmage tonight?”
Ugh. Kill me now.
Yet another reminder that I was being forced into cheerleading bondage out of stupid best friend loyalty. Jaz was our star gymnast and working toward a cheerleading scholarship to get into college, though her real passion was fashion design. Without that scholarship, she wouldn’t be messing with the rah-rah bullshit, either. Still, she ought to appreciate the hell out of me. My sanity was severely being tested on this damn squad.
“I haven’t heard,” I said, taking a drink of my sparkling peach water. “I wouldn’t think so since he just got here.”
Two trays plonked down onto the table across from us.
“Am I the only one who’s fully expecting to fail Mrs. Elliott’s chemistry test?” our friend Emmy asked.
Our other friend Charity groaned as she plopped down next to the girl. “Em, we went over this for four hours last night.”
“Yeah, well, one night of studying doesn’t turn me into A Beautiful Mind.”
“Maybe it would have if you hadn’t been high the whole time.”
Emmy smirked. “It helps me concentrate.”
Charity scoffed. “Obviously.”
I smiled. God bless these girls. They’d been the only ones who’d stuck by my side when my life had gone topsy-turvy a few years ago. When my world had come crashing down, they’d been there to laugh, cry, get tipsy off wine coolers, and binge on comfort foods with me.
But more importantly, none of them gave a flying fig what anyone else thought of them. And in a town where everyone seemed to think that your business was their business, I’d needed that over the years.
Emmy was well-known for her marijuana extracurricular activities, her burnout older sister providing all the green she could ever need. Charity was the hardcore academic of the group, sometimes being too smart for her own good. Every guy in our school was intimidated by her brain, which was more than okay with her. Jasmine’s American dad met her Korean mom during the year he’d spent teaching English in South Korea. He’d brought her back to the US with him, much to the chagrin of his narrow-minded parents. Her mom made up the entire Korean population in Mason, a fact that Jaz was immensely proud of.
And me? I was the daughter of a philanderer who ran off with his wife’s best friend, the sister of a playboy college athlete—who I loved more than anything on this planet, even though Drake couldn’t keep his schlong in his pants—and the girlfriend of the local plant owner’s son.
Go team Sam!
But whatever.
I’d stopped listening to gossip years ago. These girls were sweet and fun and had never been the caddy type. They were the ones who never judged me, who I first tried alcohol with—never again, peach schnapps, never again—and who never hesitated to defend me. They’d been my saving grace at a time when I’d thought none existed.
“I hear we’ve got fresh meat?” Emmy asked around a mouthful of peach cobbler.
Yeah, that’s right. It’s the Peach State, and we love dem peaches.
Jaz tipped her chin in Kade’s direction. “Kade Jennings from Atlanta. Otherwise known as the god of high school football, according to Sam.”
I threw my gum wrapper at her face. “I never said that.”
“No, but your eyes did.”
As if I had no control over my body, I glanced over at the guys’ table again…and jolted back in my seat when I found Kade’s eyes already on me, looking thoughtful. Like he was studying me, which was unnerving. When he realized he’d been caught staring he didn’t look away or blush. Hell, the guy probably wasn’t even capable of blushing. Instead, he just held my gaze as his mouth slowly stretched into a grin. I could feel my face getting hot and averted my eyes before I made a complete fool of myself.
“Why in the world would a guy like that come to Mason?” Charity asked, assessing our newest classmate through sharp eyes.
“I heard his dad is the new supervisor at the plant,” Jaz commented.
“Really?”
That was news to me. That meant he worked for Trent’s dad. For some reason, that bothered me. Because the plant employed the majority of the town’s residents, people tended to tread lightly around Trent and his father and by association, me.
I didn’t want Kade to act weird around me.
I wasn’t ready to examine why.
Jaz nodded, chewing on the end of her straw. “Shelly Ann’s dad had nothing but good things to say about Mr. Jennings. I don’t think his mom is in the picture.” She waggled her eyebrows. “But if the dad looks anything like the son, I’m betting all the divorced moms in this town will be camped out on his front lawn with homemade peach pies.”
We all chuckled. I thought of my own divorced mom and shuddered. If she even thought of getting it on with Mr. Jennings, I’d have to move to a different state. Being attracted to the son of your mom’s boyfriend sounded like three different kinds of gross.
Dammit, you’re not attracted to him!
“Sam! Come over here!”
I turned at my name being yelled across the cafeteria. Trent was waving his arm at me, drawing the attention of half the lunch room. I knew Kade was one of those people, but this time I refused to give into temptation and look his way.
Sighing, I gathered my trash and stood.
“I wonder what this could be about,” Charity mused.
“Ten to one Trent’s about to show off his toy to the new boy.” This from Emmy.
I glared at my two so-called friends. “Hey, Harold and Kumar. Don’t you have a chemistry test to study for?”
“Have fun, Encyclopedia Sam!”
I walked away when they all started laughing like a pack of hyenas. Those bitches.
I stopped next to Trent’s chair, his arm automatically snaking around my waist. Kade’s eyes narrowed at the action.
I cleared my throat. “What’s up?”
“What NFL quarterback holds the record for the highest career passing rating?” Trent asked cheerfully.
I answered without hesitation. “Steve Young.”
“Who holds the NFL record for most sacks in a single season?”
“Team or individual?”
“Individual.”
“Michael Strahan.”
Kade leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest, looking impressed. Why I cared if he was or not I had no idea.
“And which running back holds the record for most career rushing yards in college football?”
“Ron Dayne.”
Trent squeezed my hip in approval. He always got such a kick out of showing off my football knowledge to other people. In some ways I appreciated that he was proud to have a girlfriend who loved the game. But in other ways it kind of annoyed me when he put on this production, like I was some kind of sideshow act.
“Tony Dorsett,” Kade’s voice rang out from the other side of the table.
I met his gaze full-on, noting the challenge gleaming in his eyes.
“Tony Dorsett has the most rushing yards.”
I shook my head, grinning. “Check your facts. Ron Dayne has 7,125 yards. Dorsett only has 6,526.”
Clearly not backing down, Kade pulled his phone out of his pocket. I watched as his strong fingers tapped on the screen, making the device look small and dainty in his big hand. His eyes flew over the glowing screen, and when he eventually looked back up, admiration shone in them.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “Ron Dayne has more.”
I cupped my hand around my ear. “I’m sorry, what? Didn’t qui
te catch that.”
His mouth pulled into a smile. “I said you’re right.”
Trent stood up, pulling me closer to him. “My girl loves being right, what can I say.”
When he placed a quick kiss on my lips, I fought against the brief urge to pull back. That urge was quickly followed by guilt. It shouldn’t matter if Kade saw us being intimate or not. Trent was my boyfriend, after all.
Those thoughts froze when I caught Kade’s expression over Trent’s shoulder.
It was stormy.
The carefree smile of a moment ago had been replaced by hardened eyes and a clenched jaw. And if I wasn’t mistaken his hands were now fisted across his chest. That guilt trickled its way back through my subconscious, but I dismissed it. I did nothing wrong, had no reason to feel guilty. So what if I thought the new guy at our school was hot? Ryan Gosling was hot, but you didn’t see me apologizing for that.
I pushed all thoughts of hot Kade to the back of my mind and turned to face my boyfriend.
That didn’t last long.
Kade’s hazel heat drew me back in only ten seconds later.
Shit balls.
I might have a serious problem on my hands.
Chapter Four
“Break Stuff”
by Limp Bizkit
Kade
She has a fucking boyfriend.
Of course she did.
I wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to me from the second I first saw her. There was no way a girl like her wasn’t already taken. Especially in Mason, where girls like Sam were like unicorns. Hell, girls like Sam were one in a billion anywhere, not just in Mason.
The level of rage I’d felt when I saw her and Trent looking all cozy in the cafeteria was irrational. I’d just met the girl. There was no reason for me to be feeling all possessive. She was obviously not mine. Why my mind had even put that stamp on her so quickly I didn’t know.
But no matter what I told myself or how I tried to rationalize my thoughts, the fury was still there. I’d wanted to rip Trent’s hand off her so badly. Send him a message that no one touched her but me. All my brain kept chanting while I’d stared at them was mine mine mine.
The Unforgettable Kind Page 3