by Angel Lawson
“What? Are they okay?”
He snorted. “Of course they’re okay. Spencer is the one in pain this morning. Well, other than you, obviously.”
“Oliver! You guys can’t go around beating up guys who flirt with me.”
He stopped cold. “That wasn’t flirting, Heaven. He was harassing you. Don’t mix the two up.”
I knew he was right but I still felt weird about it. I was knowingly using my body to get attention but then got upset when someone I hated noticed? Wasn’t that hypocritical? My head was so confused, not to mention pounding from the hangover. I leaned into his shoulder and he wrapped his strong arms around me.
“Thanks for having my back all the time. I don’t mean to be so high maintenance.”
He lifted my chin and kissed me on the lips, soft and sweet. It made me think of the passionate kiss I shared with Jackson the night before. These boys are so close yet so different and I’m lucky they opened their circle for me to join.
“You feeling up to going out later?”
I groaned. “Will it require me doing much more than sitting around, eating French fries, and drinking a diet Coke?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Interestingly enough, those are the only three things it does require.”
“Good, then I’m free.” I smiled, wondering what he had in store.
*
Three hours later, I’m bundled in a warm winter coat, fur-lined boots, and sitting on the cold metal bleachers at the school soccer field. A red and black plaid blanket is spread over me, Jackson, and Oliver. My empty bag of fries and the remains of my large Coke sat a few feet away. I felt better. Well, enough not to barf all over the place anymore.
Hayden had a game and it was tradition for the guys to go support him. This was reciprocated across all their activities and now that they’d welcomed me into the group, I had to add cheerleader to my new life.
To make things more interesting, Allendale was playing their biggest rival, Oceanside. I recognized more than a few faces on the field. Just after halftime, Allendale was down by one and the energy of the crowd grew more antsy by the minute. A few spectators near the field shouted at the referee.
“What are they so mad about?” I asked.
“Oceanside should be winning by a much bigger score,” Jackson said from my left. His leg was pressed against mine, his hand on my thigh. Oliver sat on the other side but held my freezing hand beneath the blanket. It was nearly impossible to get cold near these two. “But Hayden is killing it out there. Go Hayden! Keep it up!”
I’d never been a huge soccer fan, but up in those bleachers there was no way to keep my eyes off of Hayden. He played goalie; something I only vaguely understood meant keeping the ball out of the goal. He occupied the goal with physical dominance; his body the perfect mixture of height, size, and agility. Oceanside’s forwards pummeled him with shots, over and over, and he stopped each and every one.
“He’s really good, isn’t he?” I asked, watching him fly through the air, catch a fast-moving ball and land hard on the ground.
“Amazing,” Oliver said. “Everyone thought he was going to stick with football but he’s just too good. Scouts have been coming to games for a while.”
Hayden shouted to his teammates, taking command of the field. He pulled his arm back and hurled the ball down the sideline, channeling it directly to our forward, Garrett, who made a break toward the opposite end of the field. Garret expertly handled the ball, crossing it over to the other forward, Parker Haynes, who tapped it in the goal like it was the easiest thing ever.
“Goooooooooaaaaaaallllllll!” Both Oliver and Jackson stood up, yanking me with them to cheer for the team. I’m embraced in celebratory hugs, wondering why I never came to these games before. Oh wait, I didn’t have two amazing guys to keep me warm, that’s why.
“I can’t believe Anderson is missing this,” Oliver said.
“Where is he?” I asked without thinking. Jackson’s annoyed look was all I needed to know. He wasn’t here because of me. “Oh right.”
“Babe, please understand this is not about you. It’s about him and his stubborn, pain-in-the-ass self. He’s being an idiot.”
“But he should be here for his friend.”
Oliver shook his head. “Trust me, Hayden would much rather you be here than Anderson.” I doubted that but I asked why anyway. “Look, Hayden is an amazing player. Like I said, scouts have been following him around for months, but this?” he said pointing to the field. “He’s not performing like an Olympic gold medalist for the scouts. That’s all for you.”
My eyes darted to the field where Hayden stood at the end of the field, completely in control. “Me?”
“He’s a fucking show-off,” Jackson laughed, squeezing my leg under the blanket.
“And you’re definitely good luck,” Oliver agreed. They both have an eye on the field and forget me once the ball is back in play. Oceanside gets a breakaway; one forward barreling down on the field with the ball. There’s nothing between him and Hayden, all of the defenders chasing him down but there’s no way, not a chance they’ll catch him.
Hayden shifted, bending his knees to get in position, eyes narrowed in full concentration. If he heard the crowd screaming, cheering, panicking, I’d never know it. He waited…knee bouncing, hands raised until the forward shot the ball with lightning speed at the net. Hayden moved in time, diving to the ball. I covered my mouth, there was no way he could stop it. Too low, too fast, too accurate. Jackson gripped my leg so hard I thought it would bruise and I watched, fascinated when Hayden twisted his body an inch and elongated his fingers, making contact with the bare edge of the ball.
That was all he needed—all it took—to nudge the ball off course. It spun, careening off the field and Hayden slid across the field, through the mud and crashing into the goal post.
“Oh my god,” I shouted, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He didn’t move. Oliver and Jackson stopped breathing. His teammates ran over, falling to their knees. It took everything I had in me not to run over, too.
A second passed. Then another, and just when I thought I’d crawl out of my skin, Hayden sat up, face covered in dirt, and smiled in our direction, both thumbs up. The crowd reacted like animals, screaming and stomping on the bleachers.
“That was amazing,” I said, my voice dwarfed by the crowd.
“That,” Oliver said, tugging me into a hug, “was Hayden Perkins. And the only thing you ever need to know is to never, ever underestimate him.”
*
As an introvert, I never dreamed my life could change this much. I took one risk, helping a friend with a stupid favor, and although it turned my life upside down in some shitty ways, it also opened me up to so much more. I no longer sat alone at lunch. I had people to talk to in the hall. A ride to school. Invited to parties, and now I stood on the bleachers cheering on the school’s best athlete surrounded by two amazing guys.
After his amazing save and terrifying fall, Hayden got back up and the team managed to pull a devastating upset, scoring in the last minute to win the game. My eyes bulged watching him run down the field, stripping off his shirt and piling on his teammates to celebrate their victory. The lines of his body were god-like; muscular and lean. My heart skipped a beat when he turned and looked up at us, taking off at a run up the stadium steps before attacking his best friends. I stood awkwardly on the side, hands shoved in my big coat, watching with a smile. They were adorable.
And Hayden? Absolutely gorgeous.
If I thought I’d be left out of the excitement I was wrong, because a moment later, Hayden released Jackson and lunged for me.
“Congratulations,” I told him, feeling the pounding of his bare chest. His skin was still overheated and he smelled like sweat, dirt, and victory. I inhaled, intoxicated.
“Thanks for coming,” he said with a quiet smile. “It means a lot.”
The statement was surreal. There was a full stadium of fans there just to watch Hayde
n. A dozen girls hovering around to congratulate him. Scouts. Coaches. The other team.
But he didn’t notice them. His eyes were glued to mine and his hands clung to my back and the same sort of shift that had taken place between me and Oliver in my bedroom and me and Jackson at the party took place on the metal bleachers.
After a shower and change, Oliver drove us in his Mustang across town to Dad’s Diner because they were “starving,” and needed fuel. With Hayden’s fingers linked with mine, he led me to their favorite booth, the circular one in the corner, and we piled in.
Anderson’s absence was noted. He was texted. He was cursed. Then it was decided he was a loser for not coming and the food arrived at the table and he was forgotten, at least for the moment.
Already full on fries and coke, I only got a piece of pie, but the boys? They made up for my lack of eating with massive plates of hamburgers, fries, pies, and ice cream. They laughed and joked with one another, threw fries, guzzled drinks, and celebrated Hayden’s win.
Despite my pleasure of simply being with them, I couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware that from the outside it looked like the price for my inclusion in this group was my body. The only consolation was that I knew the truth. They’d asked me for nothing. And that was sexier than any pick-up line tossed at me over the past few weeks.
“There’s no way you can beat me,” Oliver said, rolling his eyes.
Jackson scoffed. “Dude, classic Ms. Pac-Man is my jam.”
“Your jam?”
“Yeah, my jam. Don’t mock my choice of lingo—or my favorite game.”
Oliver eyed him. “I’ll bet you a milkshake I can beat your high score.”
Jackson shook his head. “Foolish bet, my friend.”
I stared at the two of them in disbelief. I finally got a seat at the exclusive table of the Allendale Four and this was the topic of conversation. Ms. Pac-Man? I glanced at Hayden and he smiled at their nonsense and shrugged.
Oliver stood, stretching and flexing his fingers. “Excuse me, Heaven, I’ve got a bet to settle.”
“Don’t worry, babe,” Jackson said, kissing me on the cheek and then standing himself. “This won’t take long.”
The two moved to the back of the diner, toward the video games, roughhousing along the way. At this point the diner was basically empty, just the cook and waitress working behind the counter.
I watched the boys go and raised an eyebrow. “This happen often?”
Hayden rubbed his face. “Every freaking time.”
He took the opportunity to slide a little closer and threw an arm over my shoulder. He looked at my plate. “How’s the pie?”
“Good.” I licked my fork. “Want to try a bite?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
The implication in his voice was heavy, flirty, and having the full weight of Hayden’s attention was a lot to handle. With the others there was something light—even the years-long jabs between Anderson and I—but Hayden, he was different. I felt it in my soul.
I scooped up a heaping forkful of cherry and crust and lifted it to his mouth. It hovered near his pink lips, which were twisted in a sexy smirk until he opened up.
I always, always, thought the whole feeding someone thing was lame. In movies, commercials, books…but holy shit, watching Hayden slowly chew while a small piece of flakey crust stuck to his bottom lip, did. Things. To. Me.
“Uh…” I started, at a complete loss for real words. I swallowed and pointed to his mouth. “You, uh…”
He touched his lip, then flicks his tongue out, swiping at the crust. It didn’t budge, stuck with the gooey sugar of the filling. “Got it?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Well…” I leaned forward and his hand slid down around my waist. My eyes were zeroed in on his mouth, the sugar, the soft pink of his lips. The world fell away from us; the diner, the waiter, the sound of the video games in the back, and I fell into him, kissing the crust off his lip.
He reacted instantly, moving his hands to my face. I tasted the sugar on his mouth, the hunger of more basic, primal desires. My heart pounded with excitement—exhilaration—I was kissing Hayden Perkins and damn, he was kissing me back.
There was no doubt he liked it. That he liked me and with the pie, and the game, and the others forgotten, Hayden and I slowly, seductively, got to know one another a little better.
Chapter 12
Monday started with a burst of Fakestagram notifications followed by a flurry of new photos. This time they had a theme. Heaven dresses like a tramp.
The first photo had Ben and me by my locker, talking, and it would have looked normal except for my impressive cleavage, accentuated by the angle of the camera. Across the bottom was the hashtag, #desperate and #tramp.
More followed; close-ups of my legs, my ass, my lips.
The intimacy gave me the chills, but it didn’t make me back off my resolve. This attitude was their problem, not mine, and I wouldn’t let them push me into hiding.
Not again.
I could admit it. Even though I’d moved past the need to prove something to the school, I liked this new look. I liked the way my boys’ eyes lit up when I walked down the hall. They liked me with puke in my hair or hungover at a soccer game wrapped in a heavy coat. They definitely approved when I was dressed to the nines.
Poor Ben though, his eyes were glued to the swell of my breasts like a deer in headlights. These things were getting me into all kinds of trouble.
It was old news between me and Amber but that didn’t stop her from giving me the stink eye on my way into school, or Jennifer from calling me names in the hall. I could tell Jackson was getting pissed but I told him to roll with it. I did. I had bigger issues to deal with than jealous girls—the online bullying. It scared me. He threw a stiff arm around my shoulder and a possessive glare set in his eyes. It was enough to make people keep their distance.
“Who do you think is taking and posting these pictures?” he asked, steering me toward class.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It could be anyone around here. I’m not really sure what the point is. It’s not like I’m hiding anything.”
In Chemistry, seeing Anderson for the first time since the party prompted me to slide a piece of paper across our work table to him.
He held the paper between two very pretty fingers without opening it. “What’s this?”
“Just read it.”
“Why?”
“Oh my god. Just. Read. It.” He didn’t look convinced. Maybe he thought there was puke on it. I ground my teeth and said, “Please."
He opened it and laid it flat on the table. I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my arms.
Dear Anderson,
I apologize for puking on your shoes.
And your car.
And anywhere else you may have had the unfortunate opportunity to see.
Heaven
I heard the crinkle of the paper as he refolded it and waited, scared to look up.
“Reeves.”
“What?” My words were muffled because I was still face down on the table.
“I accept your apology.”
I opened an eye and looked at him. His expression was clear. He even had a bit of a smile on his pretty little mouth. “Really?”
“Yes.”
I sighed in relief. “Good.”
He seemed awfully amused by my humiliation, but I let it slide due to the circumstances.
“I’m sorry you got so sick.”
“Ugh, me too.”
Then he reached a finger out to touch my cheek. “Ouch.”
I rolled my eyes. At myself, of course, because of the flutter rolling around in my stomach from his finger on my skin was enough rock me like an earthquake. “Apparently, I fell out of the car.”
“I tried to stop. You opened the door before I pulled all the way over.”
“I heard. I don’t really remember much.”
A tiny smile tugged at his lips.
“For what it’s worth, I’m kind of happy you puked all over my feet.”
I sat up and stared at him. “Umm…what?”
He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Before I found you back by the bathroom with Spencer, Jennifer had been trying to get me to give her a ride home. You scared her off.”
“Vomit shoes or Jennifer Stevens.” I made a motion between my hands like I was weighing the options. “Vomit shoes every time.”
“No other option, really,” he laughed and opened his book as Mr. Baker started class. And like that, Anderson and I were back on solid(ish) ground. I wanted to thank him for more than just the apology. For defending me with Spencer. For going back and beating him up, but I didn’t want to blow the small amount of progress we’d made. Who knew puking on the guy you liked could bring you closer? I suspected it would only work with one guy. A freak like Anderson Thompson.
*
After my note of apology and Anderson’s acceptance, things were generally less tense. I couldn’t deny, though, that there was a block of sorts between us, and as time passed I realized exactly what was causing the awkwardness.
The Allendale Four. Or three.
Post-vomitous-party, my life changed. My social life, that is. Jackson, Oliver, and Hayden stuck close to me at school, meeting me at my car, hovering at my locker, sitting next to me at lunch. It was like we were dating...but not. Not that I had a lot of experience, but our relationship seemed to be crossing over into some kind of unknown territory. Can one girl date three guys? A month ago, I would have said no. But now? Things were getting interesting, even if one of the members of the circle had an attitude problem.
The rest of the school watched us closely but kept their mouths shut. Everyone knew what happened to Spencer at the party. They saw his busted lip and the way he kept his eyes diverted anytime any of us were around. But that didn’t stop the rumors from flying or the anonymous Fakestagram page from posting photos of me non-stop. I pretended like I didn’t care about the harassment but the boys knew. They saw the dark rings under my eyes and more than once Oliver checked my arms for new cuts. It made me feel stupid. And incredibly, overwhelmingly, loved.