Absolutely (Larson)

by Melissa Veracruz

  The rest of the cheerleaders are treating Ashlyn like a leper when Mrs. Lindsey’s back is turned. From the “Oopsies” I hear from the opposite side of the field, I know there will be extra bruises on her. Gotta give her props, girl is a trooper.

  With their captain gone, Ashlyn should get to step back into that roll. Reyna’s facing suspension, if rumors on the field are to be believed. I don’t claim to understand cheerocracies, but maybe they’d let her captain the squad, at least temporarily.

  My team is in a similar boat. If I go down in a game, there’s no back up. This prank they pulled is affecting us all.

  Coach has us doing progressives as punishment and what he calls four corners. I was a little late getting on the field, so I'll also have extra laps later. Then we go into the actual practice. Death probably feels better than we do after the extra drills. By the time he’s done with us, it’s 7:00.

  In the bleachers, Ashlyn is waiting for me. In some unspoken agreement, she’s riding home with me. I hit the showers and jog back out less than ten minutes later.

  She's not alone up there anymore.

  Jackson is heading up toward her. “Oh, hell no,” I grumble. I turn back quickly and see Miller coming out of the locker room. I holler for him to hurry his butt up and motion for him to follow me into the bleachers. Just as a precautionary measure. I head up to her, hoping Jackson isn’t about to do something he’ll regret. Or I’ll regret…

  ***

  Ashlyn

  Our practice didn’t last long. We served “our” punishment for Friday night by running bleachers and extra conditioning. Mrs. Lindsey assigned me extra squats for being late. I’d take them any day for those few minutes in the backseat.

  The girls were a smidge less catty once they were worked harder than usual. So that was bonus. I still ended up with stepped on fingers and a sore shoulder. I’ve about had it!

  I head up the bleachers to watch the football team’s practice. Ok, yeah, I was really just watching Kiel move, run, throw. Everything he did was worth seeing. He looks tired and sweaty, but believe me when I say I’d still go out there and throw myself into his arms.

  They’re not wearing the pads in their football pants. I ain’t gonna lie, staring at Kiel could become an obsession. I ponder the best approaches to getting him shirtless and often. There’s the country club pool open on weekends. Spilling drinks on his shirt. From the feasible to the ridiculous, imagining each scenario.

  I am really as bad as any guy. Not that the realization makes the thoughts stop.

  ***

  At last, Kiel is finishing up his extra laps.

  I smile when I see Kiel walk toward the locker room. I know he’ll be quick. I surf a few sites on my phone while I wait. When I hear footsteps on the steps, I smile up at…not Kiel.

  Jackson is headed toward me with purpose. An angry purpose. Because the universe hates me?

  Not sure what the best course of action is, I stay where I'm at. I hope there is someone within earshot if he does something stupid. Stupider than he’s already done.

  I see Kiel step out of the locker room, take one look this way, and turns around. What the…? Jackson reaches me and says, “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “To what are you referring?” I stall.

  “You know what I'm talking about, Ashlyn. Reyna was your best friend. Jacob was a good friend to you, too. You’re a selfish bitch.”

  “You're kidding, right?”

  “Hell no, I'm not!”

  “What was I thinking? Let me think. I had liquor put in my locker, Jackson! Liquor. As in I could’ve been expelled.”

  “You turned narc on your friends. People don’t do that.”

  Oh, thank heaven. Kiel is running up the bleachers at a break-neck speed, even after the killer practice. Miller’s not far behind but keeps his distance. Jackson’s not done though.

  He grabs my arm, none to gently. Dumb move, I think. “You used to be one of us, Ash. We used to watch out for each other. Who’s watching out for you now?” he says menacingly.

  “I am,” Kiel says quietly but darkly from behind Jackson. “If you want to make any more threats, I suggest they come through me first. That way I can take care of them immediately. And remove your hand. Never, ever touch her again.” However sexy he was in everyday life and on the field? Multiply it exponentially and that's Kiel in protective mode. Everything about him goes primal.

  Back to the problem at hand though. Jackson eyes Kiel up and down. Weighing his opponent I guess, since I don’t really read testosterone levels. Neither of them are backing down.

  Finally Jackson drops his hand and the glaring match, saying, “It’s not a threat.” I see a nerve in his face actually twitch.

  “Then what is it, Jackass?” I have to choke back a laugh on that one. “I don’t have all day to break out a freaking thesaurus, when I’d rather kick your…butt.”

  Jackson turns his hostile glare on me. “I can’t say what other people have in mind,” he says to me through clenched teeth. “Just know lots of people are talking about your betrayal.”

  “Jackass, stay away from Ash, and make sure it gets around that she's not the narc,” Kiel says as he pushes Jackson out of the way to get to me. He could’ve gone around, but I'm not complaining.

  “Oh yeah?” Jackson asks with his eyes narrowed on Kiel. “If it wasn’t her, then who? Are you saying it was you?”

  I'm done with his stupidity. “Nobody turned narc on your dumb friends, Jackson. The masterminds left their fingerprints!” I yell. This is absurd.

  “They were your friends too, Ash,” Jackson reminds me but has to peer around Kiel to do so.

  As if I should run on down to the police station and wipe down the tiny bottles. Before I can formulate a reply to that, Jackson turns around and tries to shoulder past Miller.

  Miller doesn’t allow it and makes him step around. I smile at Miller in gratitude for even being there.

  “Please tell me we can jet,” Miller says.

  “I second that,” I respond. “I am mentally and physically exhausted.” Kiel gives Miller the universal male head nod signaling it was ok, and he waves at us.

  Kiel leans in and says in a low, meaningful voice, “Physically?”

  I smack him weakly on the arm and wince. Wrong arm to move, what with the sore shoulder. I need ibuprofen like no one’s business. Kiel doesn’t miss the wince.

  He moves in closer and places his hands on my hips and asks, “You OK? I heard several ‘oopsies,’ bitch code for ‘That's what you get.’”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he says and plants a quick kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get.” His arm drapes carefully across my shoulder and he leads us down.

  This morning is history, today is over and done with. I'm ready for it to be tomorrow already.

  ***

  Kiel

  That scene with Jackson has played on repeat in my head, making me extra watchful. I related the story to Jenna, D'Nae, and Tómas. Miller’s been on his game too, watching out for her. She goes nowhere at school alone, not even the bathroom.

  Wednesday and Thursday fly by with nothing more than random threats thrown Ashlyn’s way. Reyna and Jacob are suspended until next week. The rumor mill says that they couldn’t be formally charged since they weren’t seen, but their fingerprints and their general Ashlyn bashing got the attention of our principal. In a bad way.

  That suspension means it’s officially me and only me as quarterback. Not good news on such a small team.

  I have to remind Ashlyn that this isn’t her fault whenever the guilt washes over her face. Not that we’ve been alone much. I've eaten lunch at my table so I can field applicants’ questions for the audition. I'm doing quick interviews as well—so it doesn’t go as Ashlyn darkly foretold. No One Direction fans allowed (unless it was a guilty pleasure). Just in case, I hand out songs they need to be able to perform.

  Thursday night at dinner
, my mom hounds me for details about my relationship with Ashlyn.

  Is she my girlfriend? I tell her that's the goal, which makes her sputter and reach for her glass at the dinner table. My dad shakes his head at me. Do I know if I'll be taking her to homecoming? How would I know that, since I haven't asked her? I'm told to get to it! Dad pats her hand on the table. Don’t be pushy, he says to her. To which she says something particularly derogatory about men in Spanish. I laugh. She hits me in the arm. Damn, Mom hits hard.

  ***

  Friday dawns. Another away game. Another bus ride. It’s only an hour there, but it’s time I get to spend with Ashlyn. No more backseat sessions and it’s been small kisses and feather-light touching in class. I think we both realized that what happened Tuesday shouldn’t happen every day. Nothing would get done.

  It’s only been a week since we shared a bus seat, only 5 days since I got the balls to kiss her, only three weeks since she entered my life.

  So, when I see her standing in her front yard, waiting for me in her cheer uniform, I'm floored. I may have seen her in it before, but never with that expression on her face. Like I was it. The only person in the world. I chuckle, though it’s a scary thought to be so important to her.

  Not to mention that the body underneath the skirt with that crazy-high slit is mine. She’s mine. I'm sure I'll have to help some guys come to that same conclusion.

  “I want a picture of you like this,” I tell her. She can’t seem to wipe the hopeless look off her face. I take the picture quickly and rush over to her. My hands fall straight to her hips, my favorite place to leave them, lately. If I were to admit why out loud, which I won’t, it’s my favorite place because of the proximity to another part of her body.

  I swear, my thumbs start tracing small circles of their own accord. Our heads are together, peering at each other. She doesn’t say a word or push me away. I'm sure I've mentioned that I'm guy. And we will push our boundaries. I don’t want to push Ashlyn, but it’s difficult not to.

  I give her a quick kiss on the forehead and step back. “Ready to go?” She still isn’t saying a word, but she recovers the step I took back by moving toward me. Then she takes another until she's on my toes. My hands instinctively go out to steady her.

  Ashlyn is not done moving though. Propping herself up on my toes and then onto her toes, she’s gotten where she wants to be. Almost level with my lips. She pulls me into a kiss, purposefully stuffing her hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I smile into her kisses, giving in and deepening the kiss. Her tongue glides by mine and I groan.

  I respond to her smooth hands-in-pockets move by reaching down with my hands to cover and cup her cheeks. Fair’s fair, right? It hits me that there we are again, me and Ashlyn, making out in public. In front of her house. With cars passing by. With neighbors looking on.

  I break the kiss and release her from my hold, my arms still keeping her steady. Ashlyn never appreciates it when I do the stopping, thinking I'm pushing her away. So I do damage control.

  I laugh and clear my throat. “Have any nosy neighbors? ‘Cause they got an eyeful…” She laughs, luckily, seeing the humor.

  ***

  That picture I took of her this morning. I’m putting it up in my locker…Speaking of which. My teammates lockers have been decorated. Mine? The decorations are shredded.

  Maybe this means they’ll turn their focus on me. But my hope is misplaced. I hear her gasp beside me.

  Shutting my locker door, I go over to her. In her hands is another picture. This one is higher quality and blown up to a full page. It’s not one of the many pictures from the party, however.

  The crap I'm looking at is meant to haunt her. She's knocked out cold in the front seat of her car, after the accident. There is only one bitch who was capable of taking that picture.

  I pluck it out of her frozen fingers and fold it up, tucking it into my Spanish textbook. Alongside the other two.

  I lean my hip against the lockers and run my fingers down her arm. I don’t have a song for her on my iPod that’ll chase that image away. I have something better, now that we’re together. I move my hand up to her chin and tip it up, bringing my lips down to hers for a quick kiss. She gives me a smile that almost reaches her eyes.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her softly. “Grand scheme of things, this is nothing.” I point at the crowd.

  Which parts to let a bouncing Jenna and a less-than-excited D'Nae through. Shortened class periods for pep rallies have everyone in a happier mood.

  “We are actually going to the game tonight,” Jenna chirps and indicates that D’Nae will be joining her as the other part of the ‘we’.

  “Really?” Ashlyn asks, sounding normal, even happy.

  “No kidding,” D'Nae answers only managing to sound slightly grumpy.

  “Ignore her. She's just not a morning person…ever. D'Nae is every bit as excited as I am to be going because someone else is gonna be there,” Jenna teases.

  Ashlyn’s eyes get big, her own drama forgotten in lieu of D'Nae’s. I smile and leave Ashlyn to walk off with them, knowing I'm about to see her in class. We let our hands be dragged apart, though, as if it will be a prolonged absence.

  If we weren’t in a school hallway (well, even so, I might risk detention) I would’ve given her one hell of a goodbye kiss.

  Chapter 14

  Ashlyn

  I can’t believe the way I’m attacking Kiel in my front yard. My hands may have squeezed while they were shoved in his pockets. But when his hands make the move, I’m less than enthusiastic at first. Where they had been on my hips was—ahem—turning me on.

  I want so much more. I'm sure he feels it as well.

  That's when he shuts us down. Ugh! He better have a decent excuse. Because I can barely breathe. Oxygen depravity never felt so good. But he manages to explain.

  The whole ride to school, with him way over there in his seat, is pure agony. I want back in his lap. I want his hands on me and mine on him. I've yet to touch his abs, barely got to explore his biceps, and only got a few squeezes in on his butt.

  He's in his jersey and tight blue jeans. The jersey is looser than his regular shirts which is kind of unfair to the female population as a whole. It’s unfair that I'm in a skimpy skirt while he's in a shirt at all. Not fair at all.

  At our lockers, his is vandalized and mine has a new pictorial surprise. How depressing, but Kiel’s there to make me feel better with a tender kiss and words of encouragement. He’s hit it dead on, if I can get through this storm. High school is such a small part of life.

  Jenna and D'Nae are there for me as well. D'Nae who happens to be pining over someone who will be at the game tonight. The only way to get it out of her is to send Kiel on his way to class. We say our goodbye and act like this is freaking Casa Blanca. Then I turn with resolve to D'Nae.

  “Who? Spill, girl!” I squeak at her.

  D'Nae turns to me conspiratorially and whispers, “Swear not to say or do anything?”

  “I swear, pinky promise,” I say, sticking out my pinky. D'Nae eyes my pinky and shrugs, taking it. Jenna looks thrilled enough for both of them, and I send her a questioning brow lift.

  “Wait for it,” Jenna smiles cheekily.

  This should be good… Both of us turn our gazes to D'Nae, waiting.

  “It’s,” she pauses, blushing. “It’s Miller. I'm going to watch Miller play. There, I said it. I mean, I know he's just center, but he gets to shove guys and tackle people to protect your boyfriend’s butt, right?”

  None of us doubt Miller’s team standing. He's really good. I've watched him take on guys almost twice his weight while Kiel was in the pocket.

  “D'Nae, trust me. He’s one of the good ones. I'm a fan. He’s got my back in fourth and remember Tuesday?” I tell her. They both nod.

  Which reminds me. “You guys wanna spend the night tonight? Come over after the game?”

  “Hell yeah!” and “Sure.” are their replies. I gotta grin.


  ***

  I get my hair caressed in first and third, as usual. I mess with Kiel in sixth, as usual. As much as we can get away with under the scrutiny of semi-watchful high school teachers.

  Today, I use my finger to draw invisible hearts through the back of his jersey. The sexual tension between us is getting stronger.

  He spins in his seat, abruptly, toward the end. “About tomorrow…” he says. Oh, no. He's about to cancel on me. I just know it. Who would want me to meet their mom and dad?

  “What about it?” I prompt, biting my bottom lip.

  “Stop biting your lip. I can’t think when you do that.” I see the hunger in his eyes, so I don’t stop. Butt-squeezing Ashlyn must be at the helm. He sighs but keeps his gaze on my lips. “Tomorrow is the band auditions…”

  I shake my head and take pity on him, releasing my lip. I give him a get-on-with-it look.

  Kiel chuckles and says, “Would you like to, um, come over and watch? Help me ensure that no boy band wannabes slip through? I would hate to end up in a One Direction cover band.”

  I laugh, releasing the tension I didn’t know had built up. “Sure, Ok. What time?”

  “Noon?”

  “I'll be there.”

  ***

  Later, we load the bus. Mrs. Lindsey watches us, nursing a venti latte something or other. Coach Turner jogs up at the last minute before we all get on.

  The two adults take the two front seats, so me, Kiel, and Miller take the two behind them. Better safe…

  I take a good look at Miller as he’s getting settled. Very Abercrombie. Tousled brown hair. Crystal blue eyes. I can’t believe he’s single. Not my type—anymore—but lots of other girls’. He doesn’t date. And plenty of girls have tried. I pray he isn’t gay, for Dee’s sake.

  Miller already has his 3DS out and his earphones in. Kiel notices where my attention is focused and he raises an eyebrow. I know he’s not worried about me with Miller. I raise my eyebrow right back at him. I think, with that little gesture, he figures out who Jenna was alluding to. I wonder if that breaks the clause in the pinky promise about not doing anything?