Meant to Be Broken

by Brandy Woods Snow

  I relax on my heels, pushing back into the midst of the other jerseys. “I can’t believe it.”

  She turns around and grabs my arm, her fingers pressing into the skin above my elbow, and I instinctively flex my bicep under her palm. “Why not?” she asks with a smile. “He should come see his son play. You look terrific out there.”

  I don’t respond. What words could top what she just said? But my lips spread wide, my teeth all out there goofy-like in a smile I can’t wipe off my face.

  Another chill roves over my skin, heightening my senses, pumping my blood even harder. It’s one of those sensations where you don’t know how it’s all going to turn out, but you don’t really care because the possibility’s there. The opportunity. The connection.

  Invincible. That’s the word. This has to be what people are talking about when they describe themselves as “ten feet tall and bulletproof.”

  Dad’s finally here for me. Not Preston. Not Preston and me.

  Just me.

  And Rayne said I look terrific on the field.

  The crowd’s cheers fade to background noise as the whistle’s shrill ring hits my eardrum. Damn, I love Friday night home games—tonight’s, especially.

  A few droplets of water race down the back of my neck from my still damp hair, the wind blowing across it and shooting ice down my shoulders. Maybe I should’ve toweled off a bit more after the shower. Everyone else was heading to the diner out by the highway, but the thought of loud people crammed four-deep in booths and greasy food in my face made my head ache, so I splurged on an extra-long shower until the locker room became a ghost town.

  The parking lot is empty as I walk out, duffle bag in hand, and football tucked under my arm, except for a Honda parked on the far edge near the tree line. Rayne. The glow from her cell phone lights up the window.

  What’s she still doing here?

  I jog up to her car. She’s sitting there in a t-shirt and gym shorts, hunched over the blaring phone screen when I tap three times on the window. The glass sucks down into the door as she smiles up at me.

  “Everything okay?” I ask. “You have a dead battery or something?”

  “Oh… uh, no… I was just… texting Preston,” she stammers, looking down at the phone in her lap. “He said if he didn’t make it to the game, maybe we’d hang out afterwards, but he’s not answering.”

  “Sorry.” Really, I am. It’s not fair for her to be sitting alone in this parking lot, waiting on him to call. The way her lips curve down at the edges and her shoulders slump is proof enough this is weighing on her. Exactly what I’ve warned him about, and he’s too far over his head in this business of Mom and Dad’s he can’t see he’s losing her. Little by little, each time he disappears or breaks a promise.

  She forces a small smile and shrugs, but her tone is deflated. “He’s probably just busy with work and school stuff.”

  “Probably.” My stomach drops. Why isn’t Preston listening to me? I’m only trying to help him. Rayne deserves someone to be there for her, not keep stringing her along. I clear my throat. “So, you headed home?”

  She sighs and pretends to smash her forehead into the steering wheel. “I don’t really want to until I have to.”

  “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

  She scoots close to the door, leaning out the window, hands clasped on the edges and puppy dog eyes. “You want to hang out a bit?”

  Hell. Yeah.

  “You and me?” I flick my finger between us, my eyes widening at the suggestion. Preston’s loss could totally become my gain.

  “I’m sorry… I’m an idiot.” She pushes back inside, cheeks on fire, and reaches for her keys. “You’re probably headed to the diner...”

  “No, I’m not, actually.” I spit the words out before she can crank her car and leave. Before this chance passes me by. She stops, keys in mid-air, and looks up at me with a grin. “What’d you want to do?” I ask.

  The car door creaks open and she steps out, shoving her phone in the pocket of her black gym shorts, which, even though she’s short, make her legs go on for miles and her—

  “You do have a football.” She slams the door, yanks the ball from my arms then throws it in the air and catches it again. “We could go throw a few.”

  “You know how to play?”

  “Please. I might be a girl, but I’m my dad’s only child. He taught me everything.”

  “Is that so?” I drop my bag beside the rear tire and snatch the ball, running down the hill toward the field, yelling back over my shoulder. “Let’s see what you got.”

  Before I make it halfway down, she bolts past me, arms stretched out in front of her like an NFL receiver.

  She’s kidding me, right? No way she can field a ball on the fly.

  But that same old competitive streak between us ignites, and I’m compelled to prove her wrong. I launch the ball in the air as she glances over her shoulder, turning at the last minute to scoop it into her arms, cradling it against her as she makes it to the end zone.

  She nods toward the field, and I run past her as she launches a bullet straight toward me. I pick up the pace, turning and running backwards with my arms out, ready for the ball. For a moment it disappears in the lights then reappears. My eyes fix on the brown leather hurtling toward me, ready to snatch it from the air.

  Damn, she’s got a rocket for an arm. Impressive… and hot.

  Suddenly, the buzzing of the stadium lights silences, the darkness tumbling down on us like a heavy blanket. Temporarily blind, I reach for the ball when…

  Wham!

  The leather makes angry contact with my lip, the skin underneath ripping against my teeth. The metallic taste of blood infiltrates my tongue as I drop to my knees, hand covering my mouth.

  The grass crunches beneath her shoes as she sprints to my side, kneels beside me and washes her hands over my face. The way her fingertips graze my skin only speeds up my heart a little more, which in turn keeps pumping blood out the cut.

  “You’re bleeding!” Her voice wobbles as she stands up, using the edge of her t-shirt to clamp over the wound. Standing this close, hints of her perfume pepper the air, inviting me to press my face into her and breathe it all in.

  Stop it, Gage.

  I pull backwards, sitting on the 50-yard line, and press my finger into the gash. She sits down beside me, pressed so close the heat from her body warms the side of my leg, a barrier from the chilly night air.

  “I’m okay,” I assure her. “No big deal.”

  She nods, and after a few minutes of silence and a fully clotted lip, finally speaks, her voice soft but steady. “You know… I never did tell you, but… thanks for standing up for me at dinner last week. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, I did. You didn’t deserve that.” I pause, picking at the turf, pulling up individual sprigs of grass and letting them fall into a mound. “Preston… he should’ve shut Mom up once and for all. It’s hard for him, though. He basically worships her, but I told him—”

  She reaches out and grabs my shoulder, her palm hot through the cotton shirt. “I know what you told him. I overheard.”

  “Oh.”

  “I get it. He’s busy and trying so hard to impress your parents. I just think… he’s got so much on his plate… and then trying to please everyone… maybe it’s all just too much for him…”

  Hell yeah it’s too much for him, but then again he’s always had that pressure to be the best. In elementary school, he was the top seller for every fundraiser. In middle school, he beat out everyone for student body president. In high school, he was a sort of Renaissance Man with a 3.85 GPA, chairman of the honor society, and championship quarterback. I’m pretty sure he would’ve swept every senior year superlative, too, but since that was against the rules, Best All Around had to do.

  Now he’s going to be an accountant in a suit and tie. A manager in the family business because Mom and Dad say so. Preston wil
l always do what’s expected of him, even if it means sacrificing his own happiness. It’s exactly what he’s doing now with Rayne.

  “Maybe.” I blow out a loud breath and lay back on the grass, arms folded behind my head. “Much easier to be like me and not give a damn.”

  Rayne follows my cue, laying back with her head beside mine, body in the opposite direction. Her hair splays out all around, the wispy ends tickling my ear. “You’re not foolin’ me. You care. More than you’ll ever say. You just keep it all inside.”

  “Oh yeah? And how do you think you know me so well?” I roll my head toward hers, locking eyes. The truth hovers in the air between us. She does know me. Like no one else.

  She licks her lips, never taking her eyes of mine. “Cause it’s like looking in a mirror. We’re too much alike. We say we don’t care. Deep down we want to fly in the face of everything in this town, prove everybody wrong, it’s just…”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “There’s always something holding us back. Fear? Expectations? Loyalty?”

  All of those. Tying my hands. Keeping me from the thing I want most.

  Her.

  I laugh, easing the tension building between us, the force threatening to explode at any moment. “I know what you mean. Maybe we should rebel in small ways? Work up to the big-time?”

  Her phone buzzes with an incoming text. She slips it from her pocket, reads it, and then tosses it to the ground with a sigh.

  “Preston?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” She lays still, staring up at the rashes of stars spread out over us. The phone buzzes again, but this time she makes no move to pick it up.

  “Aren’t you gonna text him back?”

  She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head back and forth on the grass. “Nah. Think I’ll let him sweat it out a while.”

  My heart flutters against my ribs and icy pellets coat my spine as we lay there motionless, her looking at the stars and me looking at her, with one thought circulating in my brain.

  She could’ve left, but she didn’t.

  She stayed here.

  She chose me.

  Chapter 15

  Rayne

  “J

  aycee, are you in love with Barrett?” I drop the question on her out of the blue as we’re walking down the sidewalk toward the coffeehouse where we’re meeting the other girls for our monthly girls’ outing. One weekend each month they have karaoke night, and the whole town shows up. It’s one of the few times Mama doesn’t create a huge scene, partly because I’m with the girls and partly because the whole town’s eyes are on me. Sharon Ables, one of Mama’s oldest, dearest friends, owns the place. If I screw up, she’ll know about it before I get home.

  Jaycee looks at me as if I’ve asked her to explain differential math and twists her bracelet on her wrist. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  I squinch my eyes together wondering what her being in love would have to do with me being mad. “No. Why?”

  “You found out I invited the boys tonight, didn’t you?” Before I can answer, she defends herself. “I know it’s supposed to be girls’ night, but the boys are downtown anyway watching football, so I told them to stop by if they had time. Nothing big. Just low-key.”

  I laugh at her doe-eyed explanations. “Jaycee, I’m not mad. I’m just wondering how close you’ve gotten with Barrett?”

  She presses her lips together in a line and makes a smacking sound as she separates them. “I told him I love him. And before you say anything, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Jaycee’s said that before.’ This time it’s different. I mean it.”

  For once, I actually believe her. She’s nervous, and she’s never nervous about boys. “I’m happy for you.”

  Her shoulders relax, and a smile floods her face as she grabs my arm. “What about you and Preston? Any love talk yet?”

  “No. I don’t… we’re not…” I shake my head and look down.

  “Wait. Barrett’s told me how into you Preston is. I’ve seen it. You’re sabotaging this.” She wags her finger in my face as she continues, “Your mama’s in your head. You always do this—get excited about something, Mama gives you flak and then you’re standing in your own way. You better figure it out before you ruin a good thing.”

  I shrug my shoulders then let them slump. “I’m open… really. I’m just not… feeling it…”

  I might as well have hit Jaycee square in the face with a pie. She pulls back like I just took a swing at her. “How do you not feel it with Preston? I mean, look at him.”

  “I didn’t say he’s not hot. It’s not clicking, sparking, something…”

  She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, grabs both my arms and turns me toward her. “How far have y’all gone?”

  “Kissing.” The heat rushes to my cheeks even telling her.

  “Kissing?” She juts her head towards mine, eyes bulging. “Mama been chaperoning your dates?”

  “No. I don’t… want to…” I stammer, staring at the sidewalk.

  “Preston’s had lots of girlfriends before, so he’s expecting…” Now she sounds like Mama.

  I glower at her. “I don’t care what he expects. I’m not doing something major trying to feel something for a guy.”

  “I’m not suggesting you do, but you need to put yourself out there. Get out of your own head for a change.” She pushes her index finger into the middle of my forehead and continues, “Do this. It’s a little psychological test I read about in my magazine. Close your eyes. Imagine you’re curled up on a couch, snuggled up to your man. The movie on TV is boring, and so you look up at him, ready to spice things up.” She snaps her fingers in my face. “Quick! Who’re you with? Who’s the guy? Preston, right?”

  Wrong. So wrong. But I know the face. The scruffy man-hair. The smile. The eyes. “Uh… sure. Preston.”

  “See? Everything’s telling you to chill out and enjoy. Be patient. The fireworks you want will come. Quit thinking about it so much and get in there and seal the deal.” She laces her arm through mine and pulls me to the coffeehouse entrance.

  Maybe she’s right. We walk through the glass door, the bell on the handle jingling with the movement. A wake-up bell. Am I scared and sabotaging my own happiness? Am I using Gage as a buffer between me and Preston? It’s a possibility. But it’s also probable I’m falling for Gage instead. And if the latter is true, I’ve just eclipsed Mama as the most screwed-up person in this town.

  It’s after eight o’clock before the boys get there. Barrett comes in first, scans the crowd, then waves like crazy when he spots us. Preston’s next, his smile as big and gorgeous as always. Trevor follows with a few guys from the football team, and at the tail-end is Gage with clenched jaw and hooded eyes. I know what he’s thinking—too many people, too much noise, too much chaos.

  Every chair in the place is occupied so the boys grab their drinks and join us, taking our seats then pulling us down into their laps. On my left, Jaycee wiggles around on Barrett, leaning back over and over to shower him with kisses. On my right, Ainsley snuggles into Trevor as they drink coffee. Preston’s beneath me, but we’re not as lovey-dovey as everyone else. I lean back into him, pressing my back into his chest, my cheek smooshed to his. He nuzzles my neck and plants a kiss there, soft and gentle. I smile at him then glance over my shoulder.

  Gage is right behind us, his Styrofoam to-go cup still untouched. He sits on the edge of a wooden table, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees so no one can use him as a seat cushion. I’m glad, too, because seeing some girl sitting atop him would crush me. At least this way, I can keep him all to myself. He looks up at me and mouths “hi.”

  I mouth back, “hi” and smile just as I hear my name over the speaker. I jerk my head forward to the announcer who’s definitely saying my name. “Rayne Davidson. Where are you? You’re next!”

  Jaycee giggles loudly and claps her hands together. “Your mama knew what she was doing wi
th all those church solos.” She leans in close to my ear. “You can thank me later. Go seal the deal.” She winks and nudges me forward, but I move as if my legs are made of lead. I so don’t want to do this. Church solos are one thing. Karaoke solos in front of my friends and tons of other people are something else.

  I must look squeamish because Preston runs over to give me a hug. “Just relax. You got this. Focus on something that calms you.” His encouragement might go on hiatus after I puke on his shoes.

  I mumble “thanks” and head towards the guy running the machine to select my music. He shakes his head. The selection’s already been made and is ready to go. Jaycee’s choice. From the corner of my eye, I see her smiling. This can’t be good. All I can imagine is singing some crude song full of sexual innuendo. She’d so pick that for me.

  I sit down on the wooden stool, hard and unforgiving, although I’m not doing much to make it more comfortable. My legs are tense, my arms rigid, and my stomach in knots—a sea of faces, both familiar and new, stare back at me. What did Preston say? Pick a focus point? My heart bumps hard against my ribs as their eyes scrutinize my every move. The first notes play, slow and easy, so unlike the booty-grinding music I expect.

  When the song title flashes on screen, I get it. “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Jaycee loves Elvis, but this is more than that. She’s pushing, manipulating the situation. I should’ve never told her earlier I wasn’t feeling all the sparks with Preston. She’s on a mission to light the fire, starting with me singing this song to him. “Seal the deal”—her words exactly.

  As the bouncy ball on screen ticks off the last instrumental notes, it’s go-time. With the first words, I scan for a friendly face to help me focus on the words and the feelings I need to invest in this. And just like that, he’s there. Handsome Preston, with his dazzling grin and chocolate brown eyes, leans forward and awaits my song. And over his left shoulder, Gage sits upright on the tabletop, arms folded over his chest. And he’s staring at me. Right at me. And I stare back. And with every word that pours out, I invest in the connection. Locked in tight.