Reckless Games: A Rixon High Novella

by L A Cotton

  “Man cave… actually, don’t worry. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  She chuckled at that. “You should come.”

  “Why?” I asked quietly, feeling my cheeks heat.

  We weren’t friends. Peyton had tried once to integrate me into their group. But they were all so close—Lily Ford and her sister Poppy, Ashleigh Chase, Sofia Bennet, and Peyton—it was like trying to become the newest member of a girl band.

  Once.

  I went out with them once and realized I was never going to fit in with them.

  Peyton kept in touch after she left high school, but we didn’t speak often. So Lily’s secondhand invite caught me off guard.

  “Why?” Lily frowned. “I…”

  “Forget it, you just caught me at a bad time.”

  “Is everything okay?” Her smile was genuine but that was Lily Ford. Kind and compassionate, Lily was Rixon’s sweetheart. But more than that, she was Jason Ford’s—the NFL legend and now Rixon High’s football coach—daughter and Kaiden Thatcher’s girlfriend. He was Bryan’s best friend and the guy responsible for taking the Raiders all the way to the championship.

  Whether she wanted the spotlight or not, Lily was kind of a big deal. Part of me envied her. A year ago, she’d been like me: invisible around the halls of Rixon High. But where she purposely tried to blend in the shadows, I was forced there through no fault of my own.

  Making friends had never come easy to me. I was an awkward child with parents who fought more than they made up. My childhood was a depressing timeline of ruined birthdays, spoiled vacations, and more tears than smiles. When they’d finally announced they were getting divorced a few months ago, I was so relieved. I thought that I’d finally have two parents that could focus on me instead of their intense love/hate relationship with each other.

  I was wrong.

  “Yeah,” I shook the thoughts from my head. “I’m fine.”

  “So you’ll come to the party?”

  “I don’t think so… I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “Don’t be silly. Peyton invited you and it’s almost graduation. Soon we’ll all be going off to college.”

  As if I needed a reminder.

  “You’re going to Ohio State, right?”

  “Yeah, hopefully,” I murmured.

  “You didn’t get accepted?”

  “Oh, I did, I just… it doesn’t matter.” The smile tugging at my mouth didn’t reach my eyes, but Lily didn’t push.

  “I really need to go, but I’ll talk to Peyton about the party.”

  “Sure, okay.” Lily gave me a small wave as I took off toward the main entrance. There was a time when I dreamed of being invited to a party. I’d had all these big hopes at the beginning of senior year. A bucket list of things I wanted to experience before graduation.

  But I was over it.

  I didn’t fit in here. I never had. I was too uncool for the cool kids, but not geeky enough for the geeks. I was book smart, quick-witted, and I knew my way around a football game.

  Not that I’d ever admit it.

  Outside of school, I headed straight for my car. She wasn’t much to look at, but the hand me down Toyota was my sanctuary. I guess it was a little weird to hang out in your car as much as I did, but it was a better alternative to going home sometimes.

  “Hey, Carrie-Anne, wait up.” Joseph Malone, a fellow yearbook committee member, jogged up to me.

  “Hey, Joe, what’s up?”

  “We talked and since you’re super busy with the legacy tree, we figured we’ll handle the final production of the yearbook.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Me, Sorcha, and the rest of the committee.”

  My heart sank. “You decided without me.”

  I don’t know why I was surprised. They’d instantly hated my idea for the legacy tree project. Hated it even more when Mr. Keefer gave it his blessing. I’d just wanted to do something to make my mark on the school, to leave a tiny imprint of my time at Rixon High. I thought the committee would love it, but it turned out they all preferred Sorcha’s time capsule idea. But it was so overdone. I wanted to bring something new to the table, something that would last for generations to come.

  “Well, you’re so busy with Mr. Keefer now, we didn’t want to take you away from your project.”

  “It’s not my project, Joe,” I whispered, internally flinching. “It’s supposed to be our project.”

  He pursed his lips, looking down at me. “We’ve already been over this, Carrie-Anne. With all our other commitments, we just don’t have the time to help you solder the leaves.”

  Dejection sat heavy in my chest. Sorcha and Joseph weren’t my friends, not even close. But they were supposed to be my people. Over the years, we’d run in the same circles: yearbook committee, speech and debate club, and mathletes. We even hung out occasionally, so it was hard to not take it personally. But jealousy was a powerful motivator, and I knew it boiled down to the fact that Mr. Keefer chose my project instead of Sorcha’s.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I steeled myself. “I have someone to help me.”

  “Carrie-Anne,” he tsked, “don’t you think Mr. Keefer has better things—”

  “It isn’t Mr. Keefer.”

  “Who is it then?”

  “Bryan Hughes.” A little bit of me died inside at the admission, but it was worth it to see the look of surprise on Joe’s face.

  “Bryan Hughes, as in the football player Bryan Hughes?”

  “I don’t know another one, do you?” Smug satisfaction clung to every syllable.

  God, I hated that I’d stooped to his level, but I was so tired of being treated like I’d broken some golden rule of the yearbook committee, when all I wanted was to make sure this year’s project was something worth talking about.

  Sometimes it was like no matter what I said or did, it was never the right thing.

  Being a senior was hard work.

  I’d thought this year was supposed to be about finding yourself and making memories and experiencing life… I hadn’t even been kissed.

  How pathetic was that?

  Eighteen years old and I’d never even kissed a guy.

  I glanced past Joe, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bryan, but a bolt of guilt shot through me at wanting to use him to beat Joe down a peg or two.

  “What did you do to convince him to help you?” He sneered.

  “What do you mean?” I blinked, uncertain I’d heard him correctly.

  “Come on, Carrie-Anne,” he scoffed. “It’s Bryan Hughes. You can’t actually expect me to believe he’s helping you out of the goodness of his own heart.”

  I wanted to wipe the smirk right off his pretty little face. But part of me got it. Why would a guy like Bryan ever help a girl like me?

  He could have any girl he wanted.

  Except Peyton. Still, there were a ton of pretty, popular girls who would gladly date Bryan or even just hook up with him.

  “Did Mr. Keefer put him up to it?”

  My cheeks burned and Joseph chuckled. “Thought so. I mean, come on, it’s Bryan. He’s a Raider for God’s sake. He’s practically a god and you’re… well, you know.” The pity in his eyes cut like tiny daggers to my skin.

  Tears burned the backs of my eyes, but I swallowed them down. I knew Joseph could be a bitch. After all, he learned everything he knew from Sorcha. But I’d never been on the receiving end of his mean streak so blatantly before.

  “I need to go,” I said, ending the conversation.

  “Are you… crying?”

  “Whatever, Joe.” I yanked my car door open and slipped inside, refusing to meet his victorious gaze.

  God, he was such an asshole. I didn’t know why I’d ever craved validation from him and Sorcha. They weren’t good people; they thrived on the misery of others.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I inhaled a couple of deep breaths before jamming the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life, a plume of smoke f
rom the exhaust billowing into the air.

  I could only imagine what Joseph would tell Sorcha, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get out of here.

  I’d had enough embarrassment for one day.

  Chapter Two

  Bryan

  “Mom?” I said as I padded into the kitchen.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” She continued making herself coffee as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

  It wasn’t.

  “When did you get back?”

  “It was late. You were asleep.”

  No shit.

  “And Dad—”

  “Morning, Son.” He breezed into the room and went over to my mom, cupping the back of her neck and kissing her fiercely.

  I looked away, clearing my throat.

  “Mitchell,” she chided. “Not at the breakfast table.”

  “I’ll kiss my wife when and where I like, thank you very much.” He nipped at her and I practically barfed.

  “Glad you’re both back,” I got up. “I’ll be in the—”

  “No, sweetheart. Stay. We’ll behave, I promise.” Mom managed to wrangle out of Dad’s grip. “I want to hear about school. How are things?”

  “It’s almost graduation, Mom. School is kind of over.” At least, I wished it was. “How long are you in town for?”

  “Only until Saturday,” Dad said, leaning against the counter. “I have a big meeting in the city.”

  “Neat,” I mumbled, accepting a glass of orange juice from Mom. “You remembered to put graduation in the diary though, right?”

  “Actually, kiddo,” Dad glanced at Mom. “We need to talk about that.”

  “Let me guess, something came up?”

  “There’s a conference in Washington that I can’t get out of. It’s—”

  “I get it.”

  “Bryan, sweetheart, you know how much we wanted to be there for your big day.” Mom reached across the counter and squeezed my hand, but I snatched it away. “However, it’s important your father and I show our—”

  “Like I said, Mom, I get it. I’m going to head to school early.” I stood and drained my juice.

  “But I was going to make pancakes.” Mom frowned. “I thought we could eat together.”

  “There’s this meeting, Mom,” I lied, unable to stop myself from adding, “It’s kind of a big deal.”

  “Bryan, wait—”

  “Let him go, Jenny,” I heard my dad say. “He doesn’t understand…” Their voices grew small as I grabbed my keys and bag and stormed out of the house.

  Of course, it was all my fault. I didn’t understand. I didn’t care about my dad’s business, or about how important it was for him to network and be present for his clients. As if I hadn’t spent the last five years raising myself.

  They’d missed almost every game of the football season. The least they could do was attend my graduation. But I guessed schmoozing with a bunch of potential clients trumped watching your only son graduate high school.

  Fuck.

  My hand shot out, slamming against my car, vibrations shooting through my arm. I didn’t care. That’s what I told myself when I pasted on a smile and cracked joke after joke and threw parties.

  But this was different.

  Graduation was a big deal—a rite of passage—and they weren’t even going to be in the fucking state.

  I was half-tempted to blow off the remainder of classes, snag a bottle of whiskey from somewhere, and head down to the river. But I knew how well that would go down with my old man. On paper, he liked to play the role of supportive, doting father; when the reality was so long as I got into a good college, kept my grades up, and didn’t tarnish his reputation, he didn’t really give a crap.

  Our family was more about appearances…

  And less about substance.

  Despite how early it was, I headed straight to school. I would have gone to Gav’s house, but he had his hands full lately, helping his mom with his baby sister. Kaiden would be picking Lily up as usual. So here I was, sitting in the school parking lot forty minutes before class started.

  I’d half-debated going to the library, but since I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d stepped foot in there since the beginning of senior year, I decided against it.

  That was until a familiar car pulled into the parking lot.

  Carrie-Anne’s rusted Toyota was a fucking mess, but she drove it with pride. I saw the way some of the other kids looked at her, but if she noticed, she didn’t let on. I admired that about her—her ability to give zero fucks.

  I watched as she climbed out and smoothed down her denim skirt. It wasn’t up around her thighs like most of the girls at school. No, it hit just above her knee, and she’d teamed it with worn Chucks and a Harry Potter inspired t-shirt. I smiled to myself. She was so fucking weird but in a cute kind of way.

  Cute and annoying.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I got out of my car, and made my way over to her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Bryan?” She gawked up at me. “What are you—”

  “What, can’t a guy be early to school?”

  “I figured since football season was over, you had no reason to get to school early anymore.”

  “Ouch.” Her words cut deep.

  She was on extra form this morning, but it beat being at home, listening to Mom and Dad’s lame excuses for missing one of the most important days of my life.

  “Whatever,” she waved me off. “I have stuff to do.” Her pace quickened but I kept up with her.

  “What are you doing here so early?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t,” I said, confused.

  “So leave.” She sneered at me.

  “Jesus, you’re a fucking ray of sunshine this morning.”

  “Look, Bryan.” She stopped, throwing her hands up with an exasperated expression. “It’s not you. I just… ugh, it doesn’t matter.”

  Carrie-Anne took off, but I caught up to her, gently snagging her wrist. “Hey, what’s really the matter?”

  “What are you doing, Bryan? We’re not friends. We’re not… anything.” A strange expression washed over her, and I released her arm.

  “Seriously,” I balked. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “My problem? My problem?”

  “You don’t need to repeat yourself. I heard you the first—”

  “Just go away, please.” Her brows knitted.

  “Kitty Cat, come on, you can—”

  “Bryan, how many times do I have to say it, don’t call me that,” she snapped, and I jerked back.

  “Fine. Do you know what, fuck this, and fuck you. I was just trying to do a nice thing…” I let out a frustrated breath. “I’m out of here.”

  I stormed away, unsure if she called after me thanks to the blood roaring between my ears. But I only had myself to blame. Carrie-Anne was right, we weren’t friends.

  We weren’t anything.

  She was the opposite to me in every way possible.

  I headed for the gym instead, needing to work off some of the frustration bubbling inside me. First, my parents, and now, Carrie-Anne. It was turning out to be a stellar fucking Tuesday morning.

  As I reached the locker room, my cell vibrated and I pulled it out, hardly surprised to see a message from Mom.

  * * *

  Mom: I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know how much graduation means to you. We’ll make it up to you, I promise.

  * * *

  A bitter laugh escaped me. Graduation was a one-off kind of deal. You didn’t get a repeat or a do-over. But it had been stupid to cling onto the hope that they might actually make it. They never made it. Never showed up like other proud, supportive parents. I’d been attending school functions, football games, and award ceremonies parentless since high school began.

  But graduation… fuck. I thought they’d be there.

  Too pissed to reply, I turned off my cell phone and headed for my locker, di
gging out some musty gym clothes. It was better than sweating in my clothes for the day. As I stripped down, my thoughts ran away with me.

  I was a good guy. Sure, I goofed around a little too much sometimes, and I didn’t take school as seriously as I could. But I killed it on the football field. I had good friends—guys I’d do anything for—and a line of girls all looking to get a piece of the Brymeister. But no matter what I did, it was never enough for my parents.

  Sometimes, I wondered if my parents even wanted a kid. It was like I was a burden. An afterthought. They weren’t bad people, but they were so wrapped up in themselves, in Dad’s business, that they never spared a thought for what I wanted. Maybe that’s why I’d taken to Peyton so much. She had no one either. Part of me thought we could be each other’s person.

  But I wasn’t who she wanted.

  Fuck, it still stung. Being cast aside by my parents and then overlooked by the only girl ever to capture my interest. What the hell was wrong with me?

  It was the question I was still asking myself after pushing my body to its limit in the gym.

  But after almost forty-minutes of pain, I still didn’t have the answer.

  Carrie-Anne

  I needed to apologize. The second Bryan walked away from me, I realized what a total bitch I’d been. But I’d had a rough morning. Mom and Dad were fighting again. Even apart, they couldn’t truly let go of each other. It was exhausting to watch them go around in circles. Toxic together; toxic apart.

  I’d come downstairs and taken one look at Mom’s puffy eyes and grim expression and doubled back to my room. I couldn’t deal with their drama anymore. Part of me didn’t understand why they couldn’t just let each other go. But what did I know about love?

  I hadn’t seen Bryan, which had given me enough time to figure out what I was going to say to him. I spotted him with his friends, all gathered around one of the picnic tables outside of the cafeteria. He was laughing at something Gav said. A deep throaty rumble that reverberated all the way down into my stomach.

  God, he had it so easy. His friends, his rich parents. A bright future at the University of Michigan. Bryan had it all.