“Who’s counting?” I grinned and shook my head at her. “You missed my football game last week.”
“Then we’re even because you missed my bowling competition.” Ali raised an eyebrow at me. “And now it’s definitely been over ten seconds, so have a great practice.”
“Hang on now.” I pulled her closer. “You haven’t had a bowling meet yet this season.”
“True.” She shrugged. “But you pulled the guilt card, so I figured it was worth a shot.”
“You called me out. Fair enough.” I stood back as we separated, running my hand down along her arm until only our hands touched. I interlocked my fingers with hers. “Did you mean it when you said you’d come by at the end of practice? Or was that just for show?”
“OMG, yes!” She released an exaggerated sigh and blinked her eyes up at me. “I'm super excited. I wouldn't miss it for anything.”
I laughed and squeezed her hand lightly. “You are hard on a guy’s ego.”
“Pretty sure your ego can take it.” She pulled her hand away, turned her back on me and continued on toward her car, leaving me standing there like a lovesick fool. Which was fine because that's what I was supposed to look like. She threw her hand up in a casual wave without turning around. “Later for me.”
I grabbed my equipment from my truck, got dressed, and hustled out on the field. Coach made the last five players to arrive on the field for practice cleanup at the end. Snack wrappers, water bottles, dropped towels. It wasn't a terrible job but after a long hard practice in the heat of the Texas afternoon it wasn't a fun job either. I was never one of the last five on the field. TJ found me on the sidelines warming up with some stretches.
“How's your girlfriend doing?” TJ tossed his bag down next to mine before joining me doing stretches.
“Awesome.” I grinned. “Paige hasn’t taken the hint yet, but it hasn't been a hardship getting to know Ali.”
“Did you know your girlfriend is the top bowler on the varsity team?”
“No. Not a surprise though since I've seen her bowl. How did you find out?”
“You’re kidding, right? When Dax DeLeon starts dating some chick no one's even heard of, people are going to talk. She's not only the top bowler at our school… She made All-State last year.”
“Holy cow. To think I didn't even know we had a bowling team.” I knew she was wicked-good from bowling class. Not that she showed off. She didn't. She quietly and steadily practiced during class. She never criticized anyone else's form. Huh. “My girlfriend's a hotshot athlete.”
“Whoa. Athlete? Dude, she's a bowler.”
“Obviously you've never seen her bowl.”
Coach blew his whistle and we started practice. After stretching and warm-ups we split up into individual positions for focused practice. We worked on a new play—one of Coach D’s trick plays—which we hoped would add an element of surprise when we were down and needed a score.
“Dax, try that again. Way to hit your mark, TJ. Let's try the other side,” Coach said. “As quarterback, you've got to assess it quicker, Dax. When that play starts falling apart, don't hesitate to call an audible. You’re the captain of the ship.”
“Got it.” Don’t hesitate. Captain the ship.
Grady walked up to me and grabbed my facemask. “You'll get it. Just stop thinking so much.”
That's exactly what I did. For the rest of practice, I stopped overthinking every play. I got out of my own way and sure enough I did better. I hit my receivers and scrambled plays on the fly. I needed to stop thinking about scouts in the stands and let go of the guilt from last year. Heck, we'd made it to the championship game for the first time in our school’s history. It wasn't even like my teammates were pissed anymore.
By the time Coach blew the whistle ending practice, I felt better. Steadier.
“Good job, Dax.” Coach tapped his fist on my shoulder pads. “Play like that in the games and we’ll be the team to beat heading into playoffs.”
“That’s the plan, Coach.”
“Between DeLeon as our QB, Coach D’s secret plays, and Cox still hurting for coaches, there is no doubt we’ll win the championship this year,” Parker, our ever-cocky strong safety crowed.
“Don’t count your football trophies until you’ve earned them,” Coach said.
Parker was cocky, but he was right about Cox. The only reason we’d beat them in the playoffs last year was due to some big coaching shakeup. It had thrown them off their game and helped us win. The word was they still hadn’t solved their coaching problem.
After downing two cups of water, I gathered my gear and my bag. I turned my gaze to the bleachers, looking for Ali. She was easy to find, her red hair lit up like living flames in the sunshine. I sent her a nod and she responded by blowing me a big kiss. Yep, that was my girl.
I walked over to meet her but before I even got halfway Paige and Gwen sat down next to her. That couldn't be good. Whatever Paige said wiped the smile off Ali's face.
I needed to put an end to that quickly. “Hey, Ali! Get your cute, little behind down here!”
Both Ali and Paige turned to look at me. Ali pointed a finger against her chest.
“You can’t be talking to me,” she said. By this time, I’d reached the bottom of the bleachers.
“Would you please, Ali Frost”—I held my hand out toward her—“come down here.”
“Oh, absolutely.” She side-eyed Paige. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect.”
Well, that was the whole point of the “cute, little behind” comment. To get her attention quickly so I could help her escape.
Ali moved down the bleachers so fast she looked like she was doing a stair workout. I reached out my hand, helping her down the last step.
“Well, that was fun,” Ali said. “Not.”
“I’m sorry. I did rescue you though.”
“My hero.” She looked up at me, fluttering her eyelashes. “But seriously, was that it? Girlfriends stop by to drool over your muscles?”
“Number one: you don’t just drool over my muscles. You’re also impressed with my football skills. And maybe my muscles. Number two: that’s not it. I mean, when it’s real—when a guy and girl are serious—then sometimes there’s a kiss at the end of practice.”
“Oh. I guess if I were serious about a guy—about you—it might be worth sitting through the end of practice for a kiss.”
“Might be?” I gave a light tug to her ponytail. “If we were serious about each other my kiss would totally be worth it. You can take that to the bank.”
“Wow, DeLeon. We’re going to need to work on your confidence.”
“My confidence?”
“Oh yeah. Gonna need to deflate it before you float away.”
12
Goldfish or Barracudas?
Ali
Wednesday @ Bowling Practice, Oct 30
The girls hit me with questions as soon as I got to practice.
“How is lunch with Dax going?” Bhakti asked.
“Fine.”
“We need more than ‘fine.’ Did he give you a bite of his food? That’s a sign he’s moving things to the next step.” Mari nodded. “I read it in a magazine at my dentist’s office.”
“No. No bite of food was shared.” I mean, yikes. “I certainly didn’t share a bite of my food.”
“That’s good. You should play hard to get. Make him go first,” Rowena said. “That’s what I’d do so I wouldn’t have to be afraid of him rejecting me.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
“What about Paige? Is she managing to be nice?”
“Nice?” Dax is mine, Frosty. You’re a joke. Stay away from Dax. “Paige is…Paige.”
“So, no. Figures.”
Coach blew her whistle, waving us down to lane fifteen and we started practice.
We were halfway through bowling practice, about to begin ISD, when Mari elbowed me in my side.
“Um… Ali.”
“What? Is
it my turn?” I didn’t think it was but I’d been mentally going through my form for picking up a spare and I might have lost track.
“No. I think it’s safe to say, thanks to you, everyone in school finally knows Jackson High School has a bowling team.” She flashed me a big smile and tilted her head behind me.
I turned around and was absolutely surprised to find Dax standing at the edge watching me. He was dressed for practice in athletic shorts and a Jackson football T-shirt. He shrugged and leaned one shoulder against a pillar as if settling in for a long while.
I left my lane and moved over to where he stood by the bowling ball racks. “What are you doing here?”
“Short practice because of our game tomorrow night. I thought over what you said. Why shouldn’t the guy go watch his girl do her thing?”
“Thank you, I guess. But you do realize Paige isn’t here to see this, right?”
“Are you kidding? It’s probably been texted 20 times in the last five minutes that my truck is at Bowl-O-Rama. She knows.” He gave a light tug on the hem of my T-shirt. “Besides, when I said I enjoy watching you bowl, it was no lie. You’re good.”
“Thanks.” My stomach twisted like a hard spin of a bowling ball and I wasn’t sure if it was from his compliment or the tug on my T-shirt. Possibly both.
“How did you get into bowling?” he asked. “Do your parents bowl?”
“No. It was my nana. She was in a bowling league. When I was little, she watched me when my parents were at work.” The memories of the time spent with my nana were sweet. “I was an honorary member of the Knitting Grannies bowling team before I turned twelve.”
Dax laughed. “I bet you were adorable.”
“More like adorkable. But I wouldn’t change that time of my life for anything.” I shrugged. “Plus, I’m hoping for a bowling scholarship to help pay for college.”
“I didn’t know they had those.”
“Not many, but enough to give me hope.”
“You coming to the game on Friday?” He ran a finger along the protective tape I had on my thumb. “It’s an away game.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. I actually loved football. I’d grown up around it. But I hadn’t been to a game since my mom’s affair went public.
“I’d like you to.” His dark brown, almost black gaze cajoled. “How about this? How about I buy you a ticket and leave it at the ticket office?”
“No. Don’t—”
“No pressure. If you can make it, great.” He wrapped his large hand around mine, rubbing his thumb lightly over my palm. I didn’t know my palm regulated my lungs until that moment when I suddenly was short of breath. “I’d like you to wear my jersey.”
“Um…” I blinked up at him, so busy trying to breathe that I was having trouble thinking straight. “Won’t you be wearing it?”
He grinned and tugged my shirt hem again. “I have more than one. Hey, it’s a thing girlfriends do—wear their boyfriend’s jersey.”
“Oh, right. Like I’m just another adoring fan.” That didn’t sound remotely like something I wanted to do. “I’m going to pass on that. It sounds too much like fan-girling for my personal football star.”
“Fan-girling? No. To me, when a girl wears her guy’s jersey, it’s personal. It represents the unique special connection no other girl has to the guy. I don’t know. Like the guy is shouting out to the world, ‘That’s my girl. That’s the one who has my heart.’ And the girl is saying, ‘That’s my guy and I want everyone to know it.’”
“Yikes. Sounds a little possessive.” Granted, I’d never been in a serious relationship, but the whole “shout out to the world” thing sounded dramatically excessive. “I mean, why don’t I just get your name tattooed on my body? Or heck, I could go old-school and brand your initials on my—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” He laughed and pulled me into his chest and hugged me. “It’s a definite no on wearing my jersey. I’d settle for you coming to the game.”
“Frost!”—I jerked out of Dax’s arms—“That’s another demerit! Get your flirt on during your own time.” Coach frowned at us both. “DeLeon? What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Coach Diamond. I stopped by to watch my girl bowl.”
“Well you’re a distraction. Take a hike.”
“Sorry about that.” Dax pointed at me. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Oh, and DeLeon… A win would be nice this Friday.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s the plan.”
Dax left, but not before throwing me a wink and his lopsided smile. The whole team watched him leave.
“Oooh, giiirrrl. That boy is fine.” Shani bumped her shoulder into mine.
“Holy cow, Ali,” Gaby said.
Yep. Holy cow was right. Even though it was all an act, my heart rate spiked a little. Okay, a lot.
“Frost, you’ve got BPD after practice. Now, how about we get back to work? I for one want to beat the cowboy boots off of Navarro next week.”
Coach worked her way down the line giving us each our highlight items and weak areas to work on. We settled down, refocused, and worked hard because we wanted to beat Navarro too.
We skipped the normal fifteen minutes of fun time. Coach said to blame me for disrupting our practice, but the girls only giggled and gave me a thumb’s up when Coach wasn’t looking.
“All right, ladies, bring it in!” Coach called. “Let’s talk about what happened last season. Frost had a great season, but we lost the team competition. And I want it, girls. I want it bad. I know you can do this. Stop bowling safe. Get fierce. Stop being nice. Get ferocious. Dig deep. Find something that makes you mad—no, not just mad. Find something that pisses you off—and channel that anger into your bowling. Roll hard. If you can’t do it for yourself—do it for me. I need you to be barracudas, not goldfish!
“I want to plant our bowling trophy front and center in the trophy case.” Coach ripped Mari’s wiping cloth out of her hands and stood on a chair. Putting one foot up on the chair back, she waved the towel over her head. “Like a flag on Mt. Everest. I want every student and teacher who passes through Jackson High School to know we ascended to the highest peak in the bowling world.”
Huh. I was afraid that would be an unscaled mountain. Not that we weren’t trying to win the team competitions. We were. Somehow though when the competition got close, we sort of morphed into a bunch of nice girls who bowled. Goldfish.
“That’s it for today. Frost?” Coach handed me the polishing kit with an evil grin. “Have fun and make them shine.”
After all the girls apologized for not being able to stay late and help, which I wouldn’t have let them if they could since it was my fault, I got to work. I replayed Dax’s wink through my mind and ball polishing duties didn’t seem like that bad of a trade-off.
Which was not a good thing. I had a stern conversation with myself. You’re an idiot, Ali Frost, if you forget this isn’t real. That wink. That smile. They’re not really yours, so forget them.
Dax didn’t like me and I didn’t like him. I mean, I liked him. It turned out he was pretty nice. But I didn’t like him-like him. Noooo. Uh-uh.
Dax had a plan and I had a plan. We’d joined forces. That was all this was.
I shoved all things Dax out of my head and focused on polishing. I ran my bowling form through my head like a movie so I could look for flaws.
Flaws and places to tweak my game to take it to a higher level. Because I couldn’t forget the other half of my plan. Of course, first was to make sure my dad was okay. Once my dad was living his life again, I planned to escape this small town where everyone knew our sad story. Where even a year later people still whispered behind our backs. Where people still threw me angry looks over the football championship they didn’t have. The only way I could afford to go away to college was to get a bowling scholarship.
Almost two hours later, when the high school bowlers had given way to the adult bowling leagues, I finally finished BPD. Okay, fine, BP
D didn’t take me that long, but I ended up sharing a plate of loaded nachos from the snack bar with the Knitting Grannies while they grilled me about school. After getting hugs from the whole team I left the alley. The sun was already below the tree line leaving a shadowy twilight to settle in.
At my car I opened my trunk and looked at the mess. It used to be organized. Over the last year — just like my life — it had turned into a jumbled mess. It gave “junk in your trunk” new meaning.
I let out a puff of air, set my bowling ball bag and shoes on the ground, and got to work. Making space in this mess was definitely a two-handed job. I refused to cave and store stuff on my backseat. Cramming everything in my trunk meant I’d have to deal with the mess someday. Someday soon, from the looks of it. I slid my library books toward the back and shoved the stack of T-shirts I’d scored at 2nd Time Around, my favorite vintage store to the—
Whoa! Someone grabbed me from behind, pushing my shoulders down until the side of my face pressed against the pile of shirts in my trunk. My heart pounded and my breath hitched. Was I being robbed? Devil’s Lap was a small town with small-time crime. The worst we had were kids street racing or a fight at the local bar.
This couldn’t be happening. But another shove on my shoulders made it clear… It was happening! Think, Ali, think.
“Where’s the playbook?”
13
Two Goons Walk into a Parking Lot
Ali
“Where’s the playbook?” A guy’s voice growled in my ear. “Don’t make me ask you again!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I twisted my head as far as I could while being held down. In the murky darkness all I could glimpse were two dudes. The one holding me down and another slurping on a Scoops milkshake while he peered into my bowling ball bag. They wore baseball caps pulled low, making it impossible to see their faces. “Stop messing with my bag! Bowlers don’t have playbooks!”
“Oh, you’re gonna play dumb now? Not bowling. Football.” The guy gave my shoulders a shake. Not hard, but just enough to let me know he was serious. “We had a deal. Now… Where’s the playbook?”
Ali & the Too Hot, Up-to-No Good, Very Beastly Boy: A Standalone Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 1) Page 7