by Cala Riley
I wonder if I still have time to return them and get our money back.
I make my way past the hostess station, walking straight up to the old-school diner counter in the middle and waiting for the person filling up drinks to turn around.
“Please tell me you’re the new hire?” she pleads when she faces me while loading her tray.
“You know it. What can I do?” I ask while I look around. The place looks pretty packed for it only being five o’clock.
“Come behind the counter. You can put your purse down there under the service window. There should be an apron down there already for you. Be right back.” She winks before lifting her tray of drinks and taking it to the nearest table.
I hustle behind the counter and ditch my purse, setting my phone on silent mode before slipping it into my back pocket. I turn and grab my apron, tying it behind my back.
I wonder how many steps I’ll take while working here.
“All right, have you ever waitressed before?” the frazzled waitress asks. “Crap, I never told you my name! I’m Lindy. Sage, right?”
“Yeah, I'm Sage, and don’t worry about me. I was basically raised in a diner. Only thing I need to know is if we have specials and how to work your POS system.”
“Thank God,” Lindy says, looking all sorts of relieved. “Tonight is possibly the worst night to train. Hearing that you have a clue is a huge weight off my shoulders. Here’s your pad.” She hands me a standard order notepad. “How about you take the left side of the restaurant and I take the right? Easy enough? Write down your drinks, and then once you place the order, grab me and we’ll actually start a bill in the system for them. That way you don’t have to grab me every two seconds.”
“Easy enough,” I tell her while following her out from behind the counter.
The rest of the evening flies by at warp speed. Thankfully the POS system is just like my last job’s, so there honestly isn’t much to learn. I hustle to turn tables as fast as I can without rushing the patrons. By the time closing comes around, my feet are killing me, but I feel alive.
Lindy locks the door and sags against it. “And now we clean.” She eyes me wearily. “Why do you look so happy?”
“I love making my own money and being constantly moving. Plus, I didn’t have a single asshole tonight, which is a first.” I shrug before lifting the last tub full of dirty dishes from my section.
“Just wait. Where there are pretty girls, there are assholes,” Lindy teases before cleaning off the last of her tables.
We work in silence, listening to the Top 40 over the sound system.
“I take it you’re new here?” she asks after a while.
“Yeah, I moved here about a week ago.”
“What brought you here?”
“My aunt and her family live here, so I came to live with them after my mother passed.”
“I’m sorry. So, you go to school, then?”
“Yeah, Brighton Academy,” I tell her absentmindedly while filling salt shakers.
“Wait, you go to BA and you’re working?” she asks with humor in her voice.
“Yeah….”
“Oh, sweetheart, they won’t know what to do with you. But I can’t wait to learn what you think of that place.”
“It’s something, that's for sure,” I muse.
“Right? That place is its own brand of interesting,” she teases.
Before I can respond, there's a knock at the door. I turn and find V standing there in her skirt and heels, looking completely out of place.
“You know her?” Lindy asks with a raised brow.
“That’s my cousin and ride,” I say dryly.
Lindy laughs. “Get out of here. I'll text you your schedule tomorrow.”
I take off my apron and shove my tips into my purse without looking at them. “Thanks, Lindy. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night,” she calls out. “Hey, Sage? Great job tonight.”
“You too, Lindy,” I call over my shoulder before letting myself out.
V asks me all sorts of questions on the way home, but they go in one ear and out the other.
Once back at the house, I head straight for the shower. When I get out, I quickly blow-dry my hair before crawling into bed so I don’t have to deal with it tomorrow.
Before I get completely comfortable, I realize I never checked my tips, so I grab my purse off the floor by my nightstand. I take the wad of cash out and organize the bills before counting.
I made $375. In one night. I can work with that.
I shove a hundred of it back into my purse, putting the rest in my nightstand.
I need to find a better place to keep my cash, I think before I pass out.
Chapter Seven
After a long day of hell—also known as Brighton Academy—I reluctantly follow Tinsley and V into a football stadium. It’s been two weeks, and needless to say, it hasn’t gotten any better.
Walking into BA every morning is like walking onto a battlefield. Your armor better be firmly in place; otherwise, the next hit could be fatal. My only saving grace is Tinsley and Victoria.
Keaton keeps trying to talk to me too, but I’ve decided it’s best to keep my distance. Tinsley said there had to be more to it than I knew, but I didn’t want to hear it. I politely asked her to drop it, and she hasn’t said anything about it since. Reed also keeps his distance for the most part, except when making snide comments about me.
Keaton, on the other hand, has spent a lot more time with Tinsley, meaning he’s also spent more time with me. I rarely see him with Reed or the boys anymore. Part of me wonders why, but then I remember the feeling of standing in that locker room, naked, with no idea what to do.
They haven’t tried any more stunts, thankfully.
That’s why, when Tinsley and Victoria cornered me this afternoon and begged me to come to the lacrosse game, I didn’t put up too much of a fight.
“This is going to be so much fun! We’re going to slaughter the Cardinals!” Tinsley gushes.
“I thought we were going to watch lacrosse, not football,” I murmur.
“We are, silly,” Tinsley teases.
“This is a football stadium,” I deadpan.
“That’s because we use it for both. But lacrosse gets first dibs because our lacrosse team is better. We don’t use the goalposts but rather something that looks more like soccer nets, and they also have different lines drawn on the field,” V tells me.
“Right,” I say as if I understood any of what she said.
“Come on. Let’s take a seat, and then I’ll explain.” Tinsley pulls my arm, grabbing the only empty spot in the front row.
It doesn’t escape my attention that this spot was purposely left vacant or that we’re being stared at by a good portion of the students around us. Most of the adults, thankfully, are either talking or watching the players warm up on the field.
I glance back at Tinsley and smile. She looks great in her borrowed jersey and miniskirt. The way she sits is so poised and proper. I can see why she’s her family’s princess.
Victoria and I are also wearing borrowed jerseys. I have no clue whose numbers we’re wearing, but it feels nice being a part of something again.
I used to have this at my old school before my life went to hell. I had friends and attended the football games. When I wasn’t at work, I went to movies and had dates.
You don’t see people’s true colors until they’re tested. My mom dying and me being sent to foster care showed those colors. I went from having a happy, normal life with friends to being a troubled foster child. That’s what all teens are labeled as in the system, even if it’s unofficial. People assume because of your age that you must be trouble.
Once I moved the second time, my so-called friends dropped off too. They didn’t want to hang out with someone who no longer enjoyed partying and talking about boys.
I watch as Victoria says something that makes Tinsley laugh and smile. I won’t let them get too close, but
it’s nice to do something other than worry about life for once.
Settling in next to Tinsley, I turn and gaze at the field.
“Okay, S. Let’s give you the rundown on the basics of lacrosse. I’ll explain during the game too, but the quick explanation is this. Over there”—she points to the left side of the field—“is the defense area, which is where we score. Then you have the middle of the field, and then on the other side is the attack area, which is our net.”
“Okay…,” I say, so far understanding.
“Defenders are our guys on the side of the field with our goalie. They protect the net and the goalie by blocking and stealing shots. They have to stay on their side of the field. The midfielders can cross onto both the attack and the defense area. They move the ball from offense to defense and if given the chance can score. The attackers are the ones mainly responsible for scoring. And a goalie is pretty self-explanatory. And unlike football, there is no coin toss to decide who gets the ball. Instead, we have a face-off where a midfielder from each side fights for the ball. Whoever gains control has it first. Keaton is an attacker, so he scores. Sterling and Finley are both defenders who protect our net with the goalie. Then Reed is a middie, because without a middie, there is no game. It’s the most important position on the field.”
“I think I got it,” I tell her, even though I know I have no clue what she just said.
I understand football for the most part, but I’ve never really watched any other sports. It doesn’t matter to me though. I’m only here to spend time with the girls. I suppose, if pressed, I would say I hope our team wins.
I used to have so much team spirit. A small bit must have remained.
“So, whose number am I wearing anyways?” I scan the field, looking for the owner.
“Don’t kill me.” Tinsley’s tense voice causes me to look at her. “Keaton let me borrow his jersey for you. He knows you're wearing it.”
I frown at her. “Why would he do that?”
Glancing at the field, I catch number 44, the same number on my jersey.
Keaton.
He’s standing, talking to another player. Upon further investigation, I see it’s Reed.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Reed locks his gaze with mine. He glances down at my chest quickly, then scowls, saying something to Keaton, who spins and meets my eyes. He gives me a friendly wave with an accompanying smile. It looks sincere.
Reed grabs his arm, turning Keaton back to him. I can tell by his facial features that he’s cursing his brother. Keaton pushes Reed off him, responding to whatever he said. He makes another comment before he shoves his brother one more time. Then he turns, his face clouded in anger. He jogs toward the stands as Reed calls after him.
He doesn’t break stride, jumping over the fence before coming to stand in front of us.
“Hey.” His hesitant voice tells me he’s nervous.
“Hey, yourself. Thanks for lending me the jersey.” At my words, a bit of tension leaves his body.
“Yeah. Anytime. I mean that. I don’t date, and I don’t let any women wear my jersey unless it’s one of these two.”
Victoria scoffs. “Since when? You’ve never let anyone but Tinsley wear your jersey.”
“Hush, V. We both know Sterling has always let you wear his, which is why you’ve never once asked for mine.”
I watch as Victoria blushes. “Point taken.”
“Whose jersey are you wearing, T?” I inquire.
Now it’s Tinsley’s turn to blush.
Keaton answers for her. “She usually wears Finley’s.”
“Oh. I figured you would be in Reed’s.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure he would rather I be in his too. Alas, I don’t want to wear my brother’s jersey. It’s weird.”
We all chuckle at her statement.
“Little Yates!” a deep voice calls from the field.
Keaton looks behind him and nods. “I have to go.”
“Okay. Good luck. We’ll be rooting for you. Especially me.” I point at my jersey.
He gives me a wide smile. “That’s right, baby. Scream my name extra loud.”
I don’t miss the flirty wink he throws my way. The carefree laugh I let out surprises me. It must surprise him too by the way his eyes go wide before he laughs as well.
The man on the field calls his name again, and he turns to leave. He takes two steps before turning back, giving me a serious look.
“Can we talk later? Privately.”
Usually such a word would be delivered with a flirty tone, but he’s dead serious.
My heart softens at the look in his eye. “Yeah, Keat. Whenever you want, I’ll make time.”
He gives me another smile before grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it.
“Wish me luck.”
“Like you need it,” I call to his retreating form.
After he hops the fence, he turns and blows a kiss my way. I can’t help but shake my head.
“Damn. That was hot, S. I think Keat has a thing for you.” Victoria fans her face.
Rolling my eyes, I retort, “Yeah, right. He’s a notorious flirt. I doubt that boy will ever settle down. With all that charisma and charm oozing out of him, he’ll be making the girls pant for years.”
“You included?” Tinsley’s voice holds a hopeful note.
“Not likely, Tins. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
She sighs and shrugs. “It was worth a shot. I wouldn’t mind having you as a sister.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “I can still be your sister. V too. We don’t need men to form that bond. Family isn’t just blood in your veins or connections through that blood. Family is whoever’s going to be on your side to encourage and uplift you. I always got you, girls.”
Victoria squeezes the other side of Tinsley as we have a spontaneous group hug. We laugh as we break apart.
The game starts. Tinsley explains parts to me throughout, but it doesn’t sink in. I enjoy it anyway. I cheer extra loud every time they say Keaton’s number. When he makes a goal, he points to our section with a wide smile. His silly antics are slowly thawing my icy barrier. I’m glad I decided to hear him out. I think it’s time I do what I keep hoping they’ll do and grow up.
We also cheer for Sterling and Finley, but I refrain when they cheer for Reed. As much as his heated looks light my body on fire, his jackass personality ruins it for me. He’s a bully, and I refuse to let myself fall into his trap.
We make our way out of the stadium at the end of the game.
“What did you think, Sage? Are you a lax fan now?” Tinsley asks.
“Don’t know if I understood the game, but I must admit it’s pretty hot that they can beat the hell out of one another with a stick,” I muse, causing both Tinsley and V to chuckle.
I lean against V’s car in the parking lot, waiting for who knows what. Someone’s blaring music from their car.
“Right? That slashing can get intense. Add in the speed of the ball when it’s thrown and the danger level goes up,” Tinsley says seriously.
“Just think about how crazy those guys are in bed. The amount of stamina they need to have to play… it can only give a girl hope,” V says on a sigh, and Tinsley blushes.
“I don’t want to think about it,” Tinsley mumbles.
“Don’t want to think about what?” a voice says from behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Reed, Keaton, and two other guys who are always with them.
“Nothing,” Tinsley squeaks.
“Right,” one of the other guys drawls.
“Sage, have you met Sterling Brooks or Finley Abbot yet?” Tinsley asks me while pointing to each guy.
“Hi,” I mumble, not interested in making friends with them.
Both of them acknowledge me with a chin lift.
“Tinsley,” Finley says with a teasing tone.
He drops his bag and grabs Tinsley. A blush overtakes her face as he pulls her into the middle of the parking lot. H
e holds her close and slow dances with her there, not a care in the world about who's watching, singing loudly enough for those around to hear. His voice is raspy but alluring.
Some of the boys around point and mock them, but they don’t care. They continue to dance while the other three engage in conversation.
I make sure Reed and Keaton aren’t paying attention and look at V. “I didn’t know they were a thing.”
“They’re not,” she tells me with a raised brow.
“Really?” I ask in disbelief.
“Really.”
“But….” I look back at them, totally entranced with each other. “He has no idea, does he?”
“Not a clue.” She sighs. “But this is their thing. Whenever a song comes on that he loves, he grabs her and dances, fast or slow, no matter where they are.”
“Poor girl,” I murmur.
“Just wait. It gets better,” V says sarcastically.
As soon as the song ends, Finley takes a step back, bows, and kisses Tinsley’s hand. Then he spins toward his bag. Tinsley starts slowly making her way back towards us, side-eyeing Finley. After he grabs his bag, he goes to stand with Keaton, Reed, and Sterling, who have given V and me a little space. A girl with a bouncy ponytail runs up to him, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him.
Tinsley’s face falls, but she recovers so quickly that one wouldn’t notice unless they were looking. All the while, the guys look completely oblivious to her pain, cheering Finley on while he’s still lip-locked with the girl.
“Told you,” V says with disdain.
“Fuck him,” I mutter.
Tinsley finally makes it to us.
“Is it okay if I ask Reed if I can ride with you guys, V? I don’t feel like waiting around until they’re ready,” she asks without making eye contact.
“Of course,” V says softly.
T takes a deep breath, almost preparing herself for battle before turning to face the guys.
My heart hurts for her. I can’t help but reach out and grab her arm. “Wait, how about I ask for you?” I offer, trying to spare her feelings anyway I can.
“Great idea,” V offers cheerfully. “How about you and I slip into my car while Sage takes one for the team?” She reaches for Tinsley and starts dragging her towards the car.