by E. L. Montes
We step down the deck and walk over to where the food is. We both grab a plate. I prepare a burger while Charlie fills her plate with all sorts of things. When I look in the direction of the lake, I almost drop my food. Logan is there, wearing nothing but wet swim trunks that hang deliciously from his hips. I knew he was in great shape by the way his clothes fit him, but I wasn’t expecting a GI Joe physique.
“Whoa. Check out your man. Did you expect to find that under his shirt?” Charlie says, pulling me out of my ogling session.
“He’s not my man.”
“Does he know that? Oooh. He’s on his way over here. He must’ve spotted you.” Oh shit. I look at Charlie, scared shitless. She smiles. “Don’t be scurd.” She winks. This is no joking matter. I can’t handle him, especially while he’s half naked.
“I’m not scared.”
“I wonder how he’s packing.”
“What?”
“You know.” She lifts a squirmy hotdog in one hand. “Weiner?” Then she reaches for something else. “Or large corn on the cob?” She wiggles her brows as she shakes both items. My face flames at the thought.
“Can you stop it? He’s getting closer.”
We both look his way. You know how when you’re told not to look at something you automatically look at it? Yeah. I’m trying my hardest not to look down, but I can’t help it. I take a gander below his waist, at his trunks pressing against his…junk. Oh my God. I blink and face Charlie, embarrassed. Did he see me checking him out?
“Oh, yes, definitely large corn on the cob. He’s a keeper, Jenna. Go get ya man!”
“Shut up!”
She laughs. Logan is now standing in front of us. “Hello, ladies,” he says.
Oh my God. Don’t look at his junk. Don’t look at his junk. Don’t look at his—dammit I looked. Again. Breathe. Maybe he didn’t notice. I straighten my shoulders and meet his eyes. He’s smiling brightly. A little too brightly. Oh God. He totally caught me. Great. “Hi,” I manage to get out.
“Want to play football with us? We play in the lake.”
“Oh, tackle football in the water.” Charlie nods with a big smile. My eyes widen, silently telling her no. She ignores me and nods again, making the decision for the both of us. “We like playing football, and it’s a very touchy-feely game. Count us in.”
“Great. After you girls fuel up”—he nudges his head to our filled plates—“we’ll get started.” Logan leans into my ear and whispers, “You’re on my team.” He grins then walks away.
“All right, these are the rules for the game,” Bryson shouts from the water. I’m standing by the edge of the dock with my arms crossed, listening and trying to figure out how this is going to work. All of the guys are in the lake already. They’re all taller than I am, so the water reaches just above their waists. For Charlie, who’s tiny, it’ll probably reach her chest, and for me, mid-stomach.
As Bryson goes on about the rules, I look around. Logan, Santino, Charlie, and I are on the same team. Logan and Santino are in the water about four or five yards away from the dock. Their arms are crossed as they listen to Bryson. Charlie’s in her bikini, sitting Indian style on the dock beside me, her cover-up thrown carelessly beside her.
I’ve never played a sport in my life. Well, if you consider baseball in the backyard at the age of five a sport, then I guess I’ve played some kind of sport. But I’ve never played football. And although the rules Bryson’s calling out aren’t exactly pro-football rules, I’m still keeping my ears open to every single detail.
Bryson stretches his arm to show us our “touchdown” marker, which is a tree farther down the side of the lake. When he turns back around to face us, his face lights up and he yells out, “Babe!” I zoom in on him as his gaze focuses behind me.
Logan scoffs. “Great.”
My instant reaction is to turn around and see Bryson’s “babe” for myself. As if my life isn’t interesting enough, the antagonist of my very own horrifying chick flick—Blair Bitch—is treading her way toward me. Blair Bitch, whom I spent four terrible years of high school with, is the same girl that I punched in the face, which led me to the principal’s office, which led me to meeting Eric—the one and only love of my life.
Her green eyes go from squinty—as if she’s trying to place my familiar face—to bulging out of their sockets once she figures out who I am. My stomach turns as she rushes over to me with her arms spread wide. Then her features twist sympathetically. I’m both shocked and frozen as she wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a very, very tight hug.
My arms are glued to my side while I try to regain my fuzzy thoughts. “Jenna! Oh my God, how are you?” She pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “I’m so sorry to hear about Brooke.” She shakes her head. “It’s just a shame. A big ole shame.” She shakes her head again.
“Uh, thanks?” She didn’t know Brooke, but everyone in our town and those who went to the same high school as we did were well aware of what happened to her. It was all over the news and media, which I made a point to stay away from.
Blair Bitch drags her palms down my biceps, past my forearms, and grips my hands firmly. I’m still trying to figure out what kind of alternate universe I just stepped into where my archenemy would approach me in such a manner, when she says, “I just want you to know I forgive you for your past aggressions, and I hope we can become really good friends. After all, we’re not in high school anymore.”
“Um, okay.”
Bryson is now on the dock beside us. He leans in and pecks her cheek. “Hey, babe.” Babe? Oh my God, it just registered. Blair Bitch is babe. They’re dating.
Blair steps back and wipes her cheek. “Bryson!” she chastises. “I’ve spent all morning on my makeup.”
“Sorry.” He half smiles. “I didn’t think you’d be coming. How do you two know each other?” He points between us.
Blair smiles at me like we’re BFFs or something. “We went to high school together.”
“Cool,” Bryson says. “Want to play with us, babe? We’re about to start a game.” He lifts the football in his hand.
“No.” She laughs. “You know I don’t play any sports.”
Bryson shrugs. “Just figured I’d ask. All right, you can watch, then.” He turns and jumps into the lake, making a splash upon contact.
“Well, I guess I should get in there,” I say, backing away, an awkward smile plastered to my face. This is weird. The entire scene is weird. I need to get in the lake. I remove my cover-up before jumping in.
Charlie joins me, and we swim farther from the dock before she asks, “Who is that?”
“That’s Blair Bitch. We went to high school together. We weren’t exactly friends,” I say with my eyes on Blair. She’s standing with a huge smile, waving over at us.
Logan swims up beside me, his face irritated. “Great. There goes my night. How do you know Mega Bitch?”
I laugh. “You call her Mega Bitch? My nickname for her in high school was Blair Bitch. I haven’t seen her in four years, not since I graduated. I’m guessing things haven’t changed?”
“Nope,” he says, narrowing his eyes in her direction. “She’s still a bitch.”
“Good to know.”
Bryson claps his hands. “All right, let’s start!”
We’re all scattered around. Bryson holds out the football and taps his hand against it. “Hut”—he looks to the right—“hut”—he looks to his left—“hike!” He tosses the ball toward Danny, and Logan immediately closes in on him. Logan jumps to midair and then grabs the football, taking it down with him under water. Seconds later he jumps up with the ball in his hand. I jump up clapping. “Go!” I yell out excitedly.
Never having played a sport before, I didn’t expect it to be this fun. Logan hurries through the water, dodging the other guys. Justin throws his body forward, grips Logan by the shoulders, and tackles him under the water.
Yikes. Charlie and I jog through the water toward them the best we can. L
ogan finally jumps back up, football still in hand, and keeps going.
“Touchdown!” Logan yells out, splashing the football into the water when he reaches our touchdown tree.
Charlie and I scream and yell, jumping up and down. “YES!” We reach him, and he lifts both hands toward us for high fives. “That’s how you do it.” He winks at me.
“All right, all right. Lucky first shot. It’s your throw,” Bryson calls out.
“Jenna, you’re going to throw the ball, okay?” Logan says to me.
Wide-eyed, I respond, “Uh, no. Have Santino or Charlie. I’ve never played before.”
“I’ll show you. Santino and Charlie are going to spread out as far as possible, and you’re going to throw the ball to them.”
Charlie nods. “You can do it, girl.” Then she swims farther down.
I look around; everyone is waiting for me. “What if I screw it up? I’ve never thrown a football before, Logan.” I turn, facing him.
His mouth forms a full smile—an adorable, infectious, completely beautiful smile. “No worries. I’ll show you.” He turns me to face everyone, then presses his front to my back. My chest expands. He leans his head down and presses his cheek to mine. “Left or right?” he murmurs against my skin.
I sink into him. “Huh?”
He chuckles. “Are you left- or right-handed?”
I swallow. “Oh, I’m…” What am I again? “Right. Yeah, definitely right-handed.”
“Are you sure?” I can hear the humor in his tone. I nod, distracted by my cheek brushing against his freshly grown facial hair.
“All right.” He reaches for my hand, lifts it, and places the football on my palm. “How does that feel?” His breath cools my skin.
“Good,” I mumble.
“You have to grip it a bit tighter,” he says. My left hand grips his firmly. “The ball, Jenna. You need a firm grip on the football so it doesn’t slip out of your hand.”
“Oh.” I press my fingers into leather skin of the ball. “Like that?”
“Yeah, good.” His fingers press over mine, and then he slightly lifts my arm, with his right behind it, over our heads. I have to reach up on my tiptoes because he’s much taller than me. Logan brings his left hand to my stomach, pressing me firmly against his chest. “Who do you want to toss the ball to?”
I flash my eyes open. Dammit, I didn’t realize they were closed. I look around. All eyes are on us, waiting patiently.
“Charlie,” I say. She’s more open than Santino.
“Sure?” he asks. I nod.
“All right, I’m going to bring our arms back just a bit more. When I say let go, just let go of the ball and let it fly over to her. Okay?” I nod. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Logan does as he said he would, bringing back our arms then swinging them forward. He lifts me a bit higher with his left arm and yells out, “Let go!”
I did. The football darts toward Charlie. Her face is surprised but happy when she lunges for it. The guys from the other team immediately try to run for it, and as the play continues, all I can think about is Logan, his hold on me, the way his right hand drags down my arm, and how as he slowly brings me down to my feet, my body slides along his.
Then he pulls away. I hate that he did. I like the way I felt against him. I like the way his stubble felt against my skin. I like the way his arm felt around my stomach. I just like being near him.
Before I can reel in my thoughts, Logan’s hand slaps my ass. I jump. “Good job.” He winks; then he swims toward the rest of the group surrounding Charlie.
We lost the game. Win or lose, I had a really good time. It was getting kind of late and more partiers were arriving, so I took a shower, changed, and headed back down.
Charlie is sitting by the fire pit with Santino when I get out back. Logan is there as well. His eyes catch mine and I smile at him. He smiles back and waves for me to come over. I’m about fifteen feet away when Blair Bitch calls my name. I turn around.
“I wanted to talk to you.” She looks over my shoulder.
“Okay. What’s up?” I ask.
“Are you and, you know, Logan, like, a thing?”
“No.”
She nods. “Oh. Because it seems like you are.”
“I can assure you we’re not. Aren’t you with Bryson? Do you have a thing for Logan?”
She grimaces. “Um, no. I would never date Logan even if I was single.”
She’s got my full attention now. “Why not?” I ask.
She takes in a deep, dramatic breath. “Well, he’s not exactly the commitment type. And he’s slept with a few of my friends—who all had bad experiences with him. Not in bed! Just, you know, the way he treated them afterward. I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I really want to make amends with you, so I guess this is my way of apologizing. I’d really love to be friends.” She smiles.
“Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I decide to stay away from the fire pit and go for a walk instead.
Mega Bitch waves at me and smiles wickedly. What the hell? Because I know she has a tendency of making my life a living hell every time she’s around, I can only imagine what she just said to Jenna. I know for a fact she’s putting her devilish claws away right now because before she got to her, Jenna was coming my way. Now she’s walking in the opposite direction, heading toward the bench swing. Great. I stand, ignore the questions about where I’m going, and head over to Jenna.
She’s swinging alone. I plop my ass down beside her without asking, but she doesn’t look at me. She keeps her eyes focused straight ahead. “Can I help you?” she asks.
Yep. Mega Bitch said something to tick her off. But I’m not one to beat around the bush. “I saw you talking to Blair.”
“Yeah. And?”
“And she said something to you about me, didn’t she?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
She turns to look at me. “Why do you think she’d talk about you? To me, no less?”
“Because Mega Bitch and I despise one another. We don’t speak at all. We can’t stand to be in the same room together. And when we are, she manages to do anything and everything to grate on every nerve of mine. So after she stopped you just now, then waved at me as if she won some type of stupid fucking game, I knew she said something to turn you off. So spill it.”
Jenna huffs out a long, draining breath. “She said you’re not the commitment type.”
“Half true,” I confess.
“You slept with almost all of her friends.”
“I slept with one friend of hers. After I realized the two of them were friends, I ended that shit real quick. Go on.”
Jenna narrows her eyes. “You treat women like crap.”
“In the short amount of time we’ve spent together, have I treated you like crap?”
“No. But you could be trying to get into my pants.”
I smile. “What makes you think you’re my type?” She quickly closes her mouth. “I’m kidding, Jenna. You’re definitely my type. Trust me.”
“Well, you’re not mine.” For some reason that tiny insult makes me chuckle. “I’m serious,” she adds. I nod, still smiling. She squares her shoulders and continues, “Logan, I’m just not that into you. At all.”
“Okay, I get the hint. And because you’re just not that into me, I’m guessing no date?”
She shakes her head and shrugs once. “No. Sorry.”
“Well damn. There’s no way I can change your mind? Not even this.” I wave my hand over my face and smile charmingly.
She laughs and taps a fist to my shoulder. “You’re a dork.”
I chuckle. “That’s a first.”
Jenna’s smile softens. “Seriously, though, can we be friends? Is that okay?”
Friends. I allow the word to simmer in my thoughts. “I’m not certain two people of the opposite sex—who are clearly attracted to each other—can remain friends.”
“I have
a feeling you’re attracted to most any woman.”
I raise a finger. “Nuh-uh, not Mega Bitch. I’m definitely not attracted to her.”
Jenna laughs again, a bit harder this time. “Okay, you have a point. But you can do it. We can be friends. I have hope for you.”
“All right, McDaniel. I can’t promise I won’t try to cop a feel here and there or try to kiss you or even try to make you fall for me. But I can most definitely try not to.”
“You’re funny,” she says, her lips pursing to the side.
“It’s part of my charm.” Jenna shakes her head and leans back in the swing. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side. She freezes. “I’m a touchy-feely kind of guy, but I promise not to cop a feel on the first night of our friendship.”
She nudges my rib with an elbow. “Jerk.” Then she nestles closer to me. “Want to hear something funny?”
“Always,” I respond, giving us another push with my foot. The swing takes off again.
“It’s about Blair Bitch.”
“You mean Mega Bitch?” I correct her.
“How about we combine the two and from now on refer to her as Blair Mega Bitch.”
“Hmm…” I repeat the name in my head. “I like. Go on.”
“All right. Well, Blair Mega Bitch and I weren’t exactly BFFs.”
“Thank God because you’d be swinging alone,” I joke.
Jenna chuckles, then goes on, “We were actually the opposite. I hated her as much as she hated me. But it was high school. I think every teenage girl has at least one enemy in high school.”
“Which I never understood. I thought all you girls stuck together. You know, girl power and all.”
“Are you going to let me tell the story?” I don’t respond, giving her clearance to go on. “Well, one day I was walking down the hall on my way to class and spotted Blair Mega Bitch with her clique. I ignored their usual stares and kept going. I didn’t expect her to put her foot out and trip me as I passed by her.”
“Wow. How original.”
“Right? Anyway, I wasn’t one of those antisocial kids that ran to the bathroom crying after being picked on. Instead, I was the antisocial kid that fought back. So I gathered my things, put them aside, straightened my shoulders, turned around to face her as she laughed her head off, and punched her straight in the face.”