The Trouble With You

by L A Cotton

  What the fuck was happening right now?

  “This looks great, Felicity, thanks,” I said, dropping onto the stool beside Hailee. She tensed, not looking at me as she pushed scrambled egg around her plate.

  “Not hungry?” I asked, fighting a smirk.

  “Piss off,” she grumbled, resuming her plate art.

  “So,” Felicity piped up, completely oblivious to the various degrees of tensions lingering over us. “Rivals Week? How’re you feeling about the big game Friday?”

  Jase stared at her like she’d grown a second head while Asher chuckled. “You’re becoming quite the fan, aren’t you, Fee?”

  “Fee?” She almost choked over the word.

  “What?” He shrugged. “I figured you need a nickname now we’re all friends.”

  Fee didn’t look convinced. “Why is it,” she said, her eyes sliding to Jase again. What was it with her and my best friend? “I never know whether to believe a thing that comes out of your mouth?”

  “Because you shouldn’t trust a Raider,” Hailee spoke up.

  “Now, now, Hails,” Asher said smugly. “I didn’t lie about the party, did I?”

  “This has been fun and all,” Sarcasm dripped from Jase’s voice. “But are the two of you planning to get the fuck out of here anytime soon?”

  Silence fell over the Bennet’s breakfast counter. Felicity lowered her eyes, chewing her lip anxiously. But Hailee didn’t look surprised. In fact, she looked oddly relieved as she met his icy stare with her own. “It would be my pleasure.” She rose from her stool quickly, the metal legs scraping across the tiles, and snapped at Felicity. “Coming?”

  “I… uh, yeah. Bye.” Hailee’s friend gave us a small wave and they both fled from the kitchen.

  “You’re a dick,” Asher ground out, shoving his plate away from him.

  “And you only just realized this?” Jase shot back, continuing to eat his breakfast like he hadn’t just dismissed his step-sister and her friend away from the table like naughty children.

  Hailee

  I marched out of Asher’s house with Flick trailing after me. God, my step-brother was an asshole. He couldn’t just be civil for ten fucking minutes while we ate breakfast. The breakfast my best friend had made for him no less.

  Bastard.

  “Hails, will you just slow down a second?”

  “I need to get away from here, Flick.” Anger propelled me forward until I was stomping down the Bennet’s driveway, arms swinging by my sides, breaths coming in sharp bursts. “This, coming here, it was a bad idea.”

  “He’s a jerk, you’re right. But Asher is—”

  I whirled around, glaring at her. “Please don’t tell me you’re developing a crush on Asher Bennet, the same Asher I know for a fact has slept with the entire girls track team.” Probably all at once knowing him.

  “No, I don’t like him. Jeez, can you just breathe for a second?” She smoothed her hair back, composing herself. “I just think he’s funny and he likes us.”

  “He likes us now, Flick. Now. After Thatcher discovered who I am. Don’t you get how messed up that is? If we’d have never gone to that party with Toby and Jude do you really think we’d be here now?”

  “Well... no.” Her shoulders sank in defeat, hurt glittering in her eyes as they darted to the ground.

  I felt like a mean bitch, but she was too quick to see the good in Asher. Too blinded by the promise of parties at his house and being sweet-talked by him in the cafeteria. Flick hadn’t been the brunt of their jokes and mean pranks for the last five and a half years, but she had been right there beside me to witness it. So the fact she was ready to overlook that, made it all seem trivial somehow. As if none of it really mattered because they were Raiders. And if they extended you an invitation into their inner circle, you took it, regardless of whatever bullshit had come before.

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay.” I tried to school my irritation. “I know you want to fit in. I know you have your list and you want to make senior year one to remember. But it can still be fun without them.” My eyes flitted over her shoulder and back to the house.

  “What about Cameron?”

  “What about him?” My chest ached remembering how he’d rejected me last night and then acted as if nothing had happened this morning.

  “You like him,” she added. “I know you do.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said quietly, feeling my chest constrict. “He’s Jason’s best friend, Flick, a Raider. Our worlds aren’t supposed to co-exist.” The quicker I got that through my stupid head, the better. Cameron was loyal to Jason, which made him my enemy. So despite any attraction between us he was a bad idea. Really bad. Because Cameron Chase wouldn’t only hurt me. Given half a chance he would completely ruin me.

  And I couldn’t let that happen.

  I wouldn’t.

  “But—”

  “Come on.” I cut her off, done talking about him. “We can walk back to your house.”

  She nodded, following me down the long winding driveway. “Hey, were you crying last night?” I asked, the vague memory suddenly flooding my mind.

  “What? When?”

  “When you came to bed? I thought I heard you crying.”

  “No.” It rolled off her lips a little too quickly, and I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “If Asher hurt you Flick—”

  “Hails, I don’t know what you think you heard, but you’re wrong. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. As for Asher, like I said, I don’t like him like that.” I’d known Flick since we were twelve. I knew her tells. The little things she did when she wasn’t being completely honest.

  And right now, I knew she was lying.

  But if Asher wasn’t the one who had upset her… who was?

  Thursday morning, things finally felt like they were returning to normal. I’d almost survived Rivals Week. There had been no more social media posts about me from Thatcher—he’d been too busy posting smack talk for tomorrow’s big game—and Jason, Asher, and Cameron left us alone for the most part. I knew Flick was feeling dejected by Asher’s recent change of heart where their blossoming friendship was concerned. But refusing to be thrown off course, she was focused on two things: her list and what to wear to Homecoming next weekend. The same Homecoming that despite recent events, she still insisted we attend.

  “Looking forward to the game Friday?” Kent asked me as I entered the kitchen. Barely awake, I grabbed a mug of coffee and then slouched down on one of the stools.

  “Game, what game?”

  “I know you don’t live under a rock, Hailee. It’s Rivals Week. Not even you can ignore that.”

  “Oh, I’m not going.”

  “Of course you are. It’s a big deal for Jason and the team, and we have tickets for the family section.”

  “Who’d you have to bribe to get extra?” Players were given two tickets each for their families and spares were like gold dust.

  “Coach Hasson,” he confessed, yanking on his tie as if the thing was too damn tight.

  “Is Mom going?”

  “She is. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Of course not. I swallowed the words.

  “I know things haven’t always been easy between you and Jason, but I’m really hoping that now we’re married, things will—”

  “Good morning.” Mom breezed into the kitchen looking far too bright and alert for seven thirty in the morning.

  “Good morning, wife.” Kent grabbed her as she passed him and kissed her with more gusto than I needed to witness. Ever.

  “Do you mind?” I snorted.

  Mom’s dreamy gaze slid to mine. “Morning, baby.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she sounded a little breathless. Gross. “How are you?”

  “I was okay until you came in and started sucking face with Kent.”

  “Did he tell you the good news?” She beamed, untangling herself from his arms and making a beeline for the coffee maker.

  “You’re going to let me
go to New York for my eighteenth birthday?”

  “Nice try, but no, sweetheart. We have tickets for tomorrow’s game.”

  “Oh, that.” I gritted my teeth.

  “Hailee, this is important to—”

  “Jason. Yeah, yeah, I already heard a very compelling argument from Kent. If I agree to go, will you at least think about letting me go to New York?” One of my favorite artists had an exhibition coming up at The Met that I really wanted to see.

  My mom and Kent shared a glance and he gave her a little nod. “Fine,” she said. “If you come to the game Friday and the dinner Coach Hasson is throwing afterward, then yes, we’ll think about it.”

  Dinner at Coach Hasson’s? With the whole team and their families. I’d need reinforcements. “Is there a spare ticket for Flick?”

  “I’m perfectly aware the two of you come as a package deal, Hailee.” Kent gave me a warm smile. “Tell her we’ll pick her up before the game.”

  “Fine, then you have yourself a deal.”

  A football game, and dinner at Coach Hasson’s house, in exchange for a trip to New York for my birthday.

  It was a small price to pay.

  Later that day, I had a free period, so I headed to the studio. I’d only been there all of fifteen minutes when Mr. Jalin’s voice echoed through the room. “Ah, Hailee.”

  Dropping the brush onto the easel, I spun my chair to face him, pushing my glasses up onto my head. “Hi, Sir.”

  “Nice.” His thick-browed gaze swept over my canvas. “That’s looking really nice, Hailee. I particularly like what you’ve done with the broad strokes.” He moved closer, tracing the thick brush marks with his fingers, careful not to get too close. “You’ll be using this for your final submission piece?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good choice.” He offered me a reassuring smile. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Now for the real reason I’m here.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Mr. Jalin regarded me with a reserved expression. “You’re a very talented artist, Hailee. One of the best I’ve ever seen come through the doors of Rixon High. Coach Hasson and I were talking, and he wondered if this year, for the Seniors Night presentation, we tried something a little different.”

  “I- I’m sorry, I don’t understand?” The mention of the football team had me a little tongue-tied.

  “Every year, Coach Hasson likes to present his seniors with a memento. Usually it’s a photograph to mark their time with the Raiders. But this year, we thought it might be nice to include a painting.”

  “You want me to… paint the team.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “Well, yes, unless there’s a problem?”

  “No, no, Sir, I just…” I wiped my clammy hands down my apron, a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea flooding my mind. But despite my inner voice screaming at me not to do it, all I could think was Mr. Jalin, Rixon’s Director of Arts; and Coach Hasson had asked me to do this.

  Me.

  “Seniors Night is a little over two months away,” he went on while I was still trying to process what this meant should I agree. “It’ll mean a lot of hours and you’ll need to spend some time with the senior players, get out and watch them practice, but I think you can pull it off.”

  “Is there a particular style Coach Hasson has in mind?” My thoughts began shooting over in a million directions. Would he want something more traditional like a realism portrait or maybe something more fluid like an impressionist portrait? “Or do I have free rein?”

  “It’s all down to you, within reason of course.” His expression turned serious. “This is not something to take lightly, Hailee. This project could really help you make a name for yourself locally.”

  He didn’t need to tell me. For a small-town girl living in Rixon, it was the equivalent of being asked to do an exhibition at the Penn Museum or the Philly Museum of Art.

  “I’ll do it,” I said with conviction. I’d just have to worry about the finer details later when I figured out the direction, I wanted to take it. “Thank you, Sir, for thinking of me.”

  “Just remember, we need this to be a success, Hailee. I’ve been battling the school board for years to funnel more money into our Arts Department. This could be the start of a mutually beneficial relationship between us and the Athletics Department.”

  “I understand.” No pressure then.

  “Coach Hasson would like to brief you further, so if you could arrange to meet with him as soon as possible.” Mr. Jalin gave me a small nod before leaving me alone. It was almost as if the stars were aligning. Mom and Kent were insisting I attend the dinner at Coach Hasson’s house tomorrow night and now I had a valid reason to be there.

  But as I stared at my painting, getting lost in the swirls of blue and gray, nervous energy vibrated through me. Being around Coach Hasson meant being around the team. And being around the team meant being around Cameron; something I wanted to avoid at all costs. But this was too good an opportunity to refuse, and it would look great on my resume if I got accepted into Stamps. I’d entered the odd local show, and had some pieces displayed around the school before, but this could be a huge break for me.

  There was just one fatal flaw with the plan—getting Jason to play nice long enough for me to complete the project.

  Cameron

  The roar of the crowd was deafening. It had been for the entire game, which turned out to be brutal, just as everyone expected. The Eagles scored a touchdown, we scored one back; they sacked our QB, we took Thatcher down twice as hard. We were exhausted; mentally and physically broken, and despite outplaying them, the Eagles were leading by five. But we were fourth and goal, with eleven seconds left on the clock, which meant we had time for one final play.

  And we needed it to count.

  “Time,” Coach yelled across the field and we moved in for his instructions. “Okay,” he said. “They’ve got us pinned down, I know that. You know that. But this game should have been ours coming into the second half. Jase, what are you thinking, Son?”

  We all looked to our QB and captain, hardly surprised Coach was letting him take control. He trusted Jase explicitly. We all did.

  “We should run the Red 59 Counter Arrow,” he said calmly, despite the fire in his eyes. He didn’t just want this win, he needed it.

  “Fourteen?” Coach locked eyes with me. “You ready for this?”

  “I’ve got it.” I nodded.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. Now get out there and take care of business. Raiders on one.”

  Our battle cry rippled across the field, fueling us. Giving us the strength we needed for one final play.

  “You ready?” Jase jogged over to me.

  “Let’s end them.” Understanding passed between us as he offered me a rare smile.

  “Go get ‘em, bro.”

  We all moved into position behind the line of scrimmage, waiting for Jase’s call. He reeled off the play before signaling, “Hut.” Grady, our center, snapped the ball to him and he faked left. I took off, pushing past the safety. My best friend dropped back, hiked up his arm and let the ball fly, straight toward the end zone and my destination. I pumped my legs hard, running faster than I’d ever run in my life. We had to win, I had to get my hands on that ball.

  It wasn’t just about football, it was about Hailee. About wiping the smug grin off Thatcher’s face when we beat them. But it was moving fast, too fast. Shit. In a risky move, I pushed off the ground and lunged forward, stretching my fingers until I felt my muscles rip, pain pinging through my shoulder. But it paid off as I felt the familiar smooth leather graze my fingers.

  “Touchdown,” the announcer yelled as my body collided with the hard ground. The crowd went wild as I lay there, staring up at the lights. My muscles hurt and my lungs burned, and I was pretty sure I’d pulled something, but it didn’t matter. We’d done it.

  I’d done it.

  Jase and Ash were first to r
each me, pulling me to my feet and then the rest of the guys were on us, jostling us around like we’d won the Championship game. But Jase wasn’t celebrating with us, he was staring across the field, his eyes set right on Thatcher.

  “Come on, man.” I pushed through the crowd and slung my arm around his shoulder. “Not here, not now.” I kept my voice low.

  “One day,” he ground out, his voice eerily calm. “One day.”

  Two hours later, still riding the high of our win against Rixon East, we were crammed into Coach Hasson’s place for the annual Rivals Week dinner. It was a ranch style house overlooking the river with enough space to host the team and their families.

  “Hmm, bro, why are Hailee and Fee here?” Asher nudged my arm and tipped his head to where the girls had just walked in, both looking like deer caught in headlights.

  “Beats me.” I took a long pull on my soda, feeling the deep ache in my shoulder.

  Later, after dinner, Coach would turn a blind eye when we all raided his cooler for beers. But for now, while the team’s families were present and sober, he expected decorum.

  “They came with my dad and Denise,” Jase grunted, joining us. My eyes went to the beer in his hand.

  “Really?” I asked, my brow quirked up.

  “What?” He shrugged. “I needed one.”

  Rolling my eyes, I fought a smirk. Jason didn’t follow the rules, he made them. And I knew no one would give him shit about it.

  “I knew they were at the game,” Asher added still staring over at them. “But I had no idea they were coming here. I think she’s stalking me.”

  I sprayed soda into the air, chuckling at the ridiculous statement. “You’re not serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” he deadpanned, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes narrowed on Hailee and her friend. But they never so much as glanced in our direction.

  It had been the same all week. After the disastrous morning at Asher’s house, after the party, Hailee had avoided me like the plague. And I gave her space, because what else could I do? She’d kissed me… tried to do a whole lot more than that, and I’d rejected her. I didn’t regret stopping play that night; she was drunk, and Jase was right along the hall buried balls deep inside one of the gymnasts. But I regretted how things went down between us.