by A. R. Perry
“Are you back with Cristy?” Nash asks out of the blue.
I freeze, half stepping out of my pants. “No.”
“Then why were you all cozy with her yesterday?”
“She wanted to talk.” Yeah, skipping a shower and getting out of here as fast as possible might be the best plan. Why these two are all about interrogating me on my love life all of a sudden is beyond me.
“It didn’t look like just talking.”
I whirl around, clutching my shirt in a tight fist. “Why don’t you just come out and say what you mean instead of dancing around the subject?”
Nash’s jaw clenches. “Fine. Cristy is bad news and is using this situation to her advantage to win you back.”
“At least she didn’t lie!” I yell, taking a half step toward my best friend before reconsidering. “She came to the bakery and tried to warn me about Piper, but I didn’t listen.”
“Piper isn’t some terrible, manipulative person. She got hurt and went about handling it all wrong. And if you didn’t have feelings for her, you wouldn’t be reacting this way.”
I roll out my shoulders, fighting the urge to punch his smug face. Isn’t there some bro code that says he should be on my side? “Piper and I were nothing more than a passing amusement.”
“Sure, sure.” Nash nods, his smile growing at the false tone in my voice. He’s known me forever. He can tell when I’m lying. “You weren't even this worked up when Cristy dumped you. So, don't come at me with that bullshit. I'm not blind. You've been into her since the moment you began hanging out."
I run a hand through my damp hair. “Even if I were into her, it doesn’t matter. She used me as a pawn in her game. Who does that?”
“You’re being a bit harsh,” Jordan says.
They’re both standing in front of me, a united front, taking the side of some random girl instead of their best friend.
I see red.
“Well, if you like her so much, why don’t you ask her out?” The words taste like ash, but I still push them out. I’d kill either one of them with my bare hands if they tried to put the moves on her, but they don’t need to know that.
“Maybe I will,” Jordan says as he walks past me, slapping a white envelope on my chest.
Distracted from my anger, I grab it before it falls to the ground, recognizing Piper’s handwriting right away. My name is scrolled across the front, and the flap is torn open.
Nash smirks as he passes by. Clearly, they’ve read whatever message is meant for me. And whatever it is, changed their mind about her.
I clench it in a fist, crumpling the paper. Right now, I’m not ready to have my mind changed.
I’ve been laying on my bed staring at the ceiling for an hour. Homework is waiting for my attention, but I can’t focus long enough to get through it.
My parents are home, banging around in the kitchen, the delicious scent of whatever they’re making is wafting down the hall. I’d normally let my nose lead the way, but I’m not in the mood to face my dad yet. Since our blowout the other night, I’ve been ducking him. In my current mood, I’m not sure how well I can keep my anger in check.
The crumpled letter from Piper is on my nightstand, tempting me to look inside.
Yeah. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.
Jordan never told me how he came into possession of it, but I’m assuming she planned on bringing inside yesterday but changed her mind when she saw Cristy hanging all over me.
I reach for the letter, but let my hand fall to my side.
Is there anything she could say that would change my mind? Do I want my mind changed? As far as I’m concerned, she’s just as bad as Cristy when it comes to using people. Manipulating me into helping her get back at her ex—a plan that failed because the creep was all over her friend in secret. Who does that?
She can tell me what we had was real all she wants, but I saw the firsthand devastation when she found out about her best friend and ex hooking up.
All I’ve ever been was someone gullible enough to fall for her sweet face and fake as hell demeanor.
Growling, I sit up and rub my hands over my face. I need to get out of this room. Maybe if I run until I can’t feel my legs anymore, I’ll be able to sleep all night. It shouldn’t take much after the grueling practice Coach put us through.
Still in my gym clothes, I grab my headphones from my desk and head for my bedroom door. The second I step out, I bump into my dad.
Well, there goes the whole avoiding him plan.
“Dinner is almost ready,” he grumbles.
“I’m not hungry.” I go to step past him, but he grabs my arm.
“Where are you going?”
As if my gym clothes and headphones didn’t give it away. He just wants to get into it with me. “For a run.”
“Is your homework done?”
“No,” I grit out, already knowing where this is leading.
“Then get back in there and do it. I’m sure you had enough exercise at practice, which at this point in the year is a waste of time.”
“Preparing for next year is not a waste of time. Wanting to be the best so I can get the best scholarship offer is not a waste of time.”
“You won’t have time for your little football hobby. You’re better off getting a merit scholarship. That way you know it will last you all four years.”
“So will a football scholarship. I’m playing in college.”
My dad grinds his teeth together, resembling an angry dog as he steps closer. “We’ve settled this already. You’re not wasting any more energy on football after high school. It’s time you grow up and realize you need to focus on an attainable future.”
“You mean focus on what you want for my future? Something you never could accomplish for yourself.” As the words fly out of my mouth, I feel zero guilt. We’ve been dancing around the truth for years and it’s about time we have it out, even if it results in a knock-down, drag-out fight.
His face turns the deepest shade of red I’ve ever seen. “What did you say to me?”
“You heard me.” I rip my arm from his grip and skirt around him. We’ve been quiet so far, but I have an inkling this is about to spill over into the living room.
“You can forget about football next year. I won’t sign the release and I’ll make sure that every single one of your shifts falls on a game day. Do you think you can talk to me like that and not face repercussions? Now get in your room and do your homework.”
I laugh—I actually laugh in his face. “By the time football starts, I’ll be eighteen. I won’t need your signature for anything. And as for Mom, I would never screw her over, but I’ll be damned if I let you screw with my future anymore. I’m done.”
“What’s going on?” We both turn to see my mom standing at the entrance to the hall, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Nothing, Mom.” I give her a kiss on the head as I pass.
“Get back here!” my dad yells so loud my mom jumps.
“Charles, what’s going on?” My mom looks from Dad to me.
“Just Dad trying to control my life as usual.” I have no clue what’s gotten into me. Never in my life have I talked to either of them this way. Stomping to the front door, I barely hear the next words out of her mouth.
“We talked about this, Charles. He’s old enough to make his own choices.”
My hand freezes on the door handle. “What?” I ask the wood.
When I turn around, my dad won’t make eye contact with either of us. If I didn’t know any better, I would even say he appears…embarrassed.
Ragged laughter leaves me. “This is why you always pick fights with me when she’s not around to hear.”
“I just want what’s best for you.”
“If that was true then you wouldn’t care if I was playing football or working at the bakery for the rest of my life. Pushing something on me that I will make me unhappy isn’t wanting what’s best for me. I love you, but this has always been
about you.”
He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, the same way I do when I’m stressed. “We’re struggling, your mom and me. I just don’t want you to have to face the same hard decisions we’ve had to. Football…it’s just impractical. You could get hurt your freshman year and poof, there goes your future. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in this town?”
My anger dissipates, deflating my shoulders. “I never planned to rely on football. A backup degree was always the goal. Just not law school. If you ever took the time to ask, you would know that. I’m not some bumbling jock. Believe it or not, I have a good head on my shoulders.”
He nods his agreement, sharing a small smile with my mom. “I understand, son. And I’ll try to see it your way, but I’ll never stop pushing you. You could go far in this world if you put your mind to it.”
Mom twists the towel around her clenched hand. Something tells me this conversation isn't over between them. “Is this settled once and for all, then? Enchiladas are about to come out of the oven.”
I kiss my mom on the way to my bedroom, a lightness in my chest that has been missing for years. I’m far from forgiving him, but it’s a start. “Be back. I got something I need to do.”
I snag Piper’s letter from my dresser and head out the door.
“Why are we watching this?” I ask as the on-screen couple kisses in the rain.
Blythe shrugs, shoving a piece of licorice in her mouth. “Your heart was broken. Chick flicks are the only cure.”
“So, rubbing happy couples in my face is the cure? Because the last time we did this it resulted in a grand plan that ended here.” Spreading my hands out, I motion to the room
Uncomfortable no matter which way I turn, I punch my pillow. “And no heart was broken. An agreement ended. End of story.”
“Uh-huh. So Blue Valentine or A Lot Like Love next?”
“We have school tomorrow.”
“So what? Bet if you mention you got your heart broken, your mom will let you skip.”
“Again, no heart was broken.” If I keep saying it out loud enough times it will come true.
As it is, I’ll never be able to get the image of Cristy wrapped around Carter out of my head. I get being mad, but did he have to choose her?
“And I said you’re full of crap. Just admit that during this whole experiment you caught feelings.”
“Even if I did—” I point at her face with the remote “—which I didn’t, there’s no point being hung up on it. He’s with his ex, mine is sucking face with one of my best friends, and I’m probably a thousand times less popular than before this thing started. To say this experiment blew up in my face would be an understatement.”
Without thinking, I reach for my phone. Still no messages. Not that I expected anything. Carter wouldn’t even look at me in the halls today. The student body was no better. I’m split between which is worse—hating my guts for hurting Carter or pitying me because he clearly doesn’t care.
Blythe pokes me in the cheek. “There’s that someone-kicked-my-dog look on your face again. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be obsessively checking your phone to see if he called or texted.”
I open my mouth to deny her astute claims once again, but a knock on my door interrupts my thoughts.
“You have a visitor,” my mom calls from the other side.
“Maybe it’s him,” Blythe says as she bounces up and down like an overexcited dog.
I hop off the bed, tossing popcorn at her face. “The likelihood of him being here is about as likely as it being genie ready to grant three wishes. The first of which would be a new best friend.” I swing open the door, but instead of my mom, it’s Claire standing in the hall with a nervous expression on her face.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey.” I grip the door handle, a little too tight as an image of her and John spilling out of the janitor closet pops into my head.
The funny thing is I’m not even mad she’s with him, which Blythe would say means I’m hung up on Carter. But I am mad that she lied. Which Carter and pretty much every other person on this planet would say makes me a hypocrite.
“I-I brought some snacks. All your favorites. Blythe says you're in need of a girls’ night.”
I twist around to see Blythe grinning.
Of course she orchestrated this. From the start she knew it wasn’t Carter, but threw that comment out there to knock me off guard.
“Come in. An old couple is about to die in bed together.” I step aside and motion to the TV.
“That’s not what this movie is about!” Blythe calls as I widen the door to let Claire in.
Claire hesitates in the hallway, tugging at the straps of her pink backpack. She’s nervous. We haven’t spoken since my ex outed my lie to Carter and the rest of the school. Information I’m positive he learned from her.
Well, at least now it makes sense why none of my popularity advances made any impact on him. He knew it was fake from the start.
“Did you grow roots?” I throw over my shoulder as I climb onto my bed, taking up the spot I vacated.
Blythe pats the spot next to her as Claire takes a step inside, shifting her eyes to every corner of the room but where we are. She tosses her backpack next to my desk and sighs.
“I’m sorry you found out about John and me that way.”
I stiffen, not prepared for this conversation yet. But that’s how Claire is. She won’t be comfortable until we hash things out.
“How long?” I ask.
“A couple weeks. Nothing happened when you were together, I swear.”
I chew on my thumbnail, watching her fidget. “But that’s not true, is it? You two didn’t magically fall for each other overnight.”
She nods. “I’ve had a crush on him for a while.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She throws me an are you kidding look. “That would have gone over well. I never planned on this happening. John was one hundred percent off-limits in my head. But then this whole getting back at him plan happened, and I saw it was upsetting him and when we met up to talk…things just happened. Then I felt guilty and mad that you were trying to hurt him. It got messy, and I didn't handle it well. And he shouldn’t have said anything to you in front of Carter. That was messed up.”
Try as I might, I can’t help the slight bubble of excitement at the knowledge that my plan was working. Things might have come together if Claire hadn’t had stepped in. Then again, what kind of person would that make me if, in the end, I crushed him?
God, I’m no better than him.
I jump off the bed and drag Claire into a bone-crushing hug. “I forgive you.”
“Y-you do?”
“Of course. You can’t help having feelings for him, just like I can’t change the fact that he doesn’t have feelings for me.” I push her out to arm’s length and notice tears glistening in her eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” she chokes out.
“Don’t lie to me again. It’s partially my fault for being so fixated on my plan and my pain. But seriously, we should be able to talk about anything.”
Seeing John and Claire together will take some adjusting, but if they’re both happy, I’m not about to stand in their way. John made it clear before they even hooked up that we were over. I’m going to respect that.
Claire half laughs, half hiccups and yanks me into a hug. A few seconds later Blythe joins in.
“See, this is how a scheme is supposed to work out,” Blythe says.
I laugh, elbowing Blythe in the stomach. “You got any more tricks up your sleeve?”
Blythe steps away, smiling. “Maybe.”
“Leave Carter alone.” I glare at her, which only makes her smile grow. “I’m serious. He’s back with Cristy and doesn’t want to speak to me ever again.”
“He’s a boy. Today he doesn’t know what he wants. Tomorrow he’ll change his mind,” she says on a shrug and jumps on my bed. “N
ow can we please finish the movie?”
Claire picks up her bag. “I have supplies and your mom said she’s ordering pizza.”
My eyebrows shoot up. They must have told my mom something because I can count on one hand the number of times she’s ordered pizza. On more than one occasion, she’s referred to it as heart disease in a box.
Claire jumps on my bed and tips her backpack, spilling out bags of peanut M&Ms and a plethora of other candies. We have a serious sugar addiction that will most likely bite us later in life.
I grin, climbing onto my bed, and feeling whole for the first time in a while. Carter may hate my guts, but at least I’ve got my girls again.
I wake up to a weird vibrating in my head. Blinking, I pat my pillow until I feel my phone. It lights up, telling me it’s well after midnight before vibrating again with another text.
So that’s what woke me up.
With one eye, I read the name, only to blink hard and reread it to make sure I’m not imagining things. Hands shaking, I unlock the screen and read the newest message.
Carter: Come outside.
Groggily glancing around the room, I notice the TV has shut off and Claire and Blythe are passed out cold next to me. They might be deep sleepers, but my mom sure as hell isn’t. Right now I’m almost an hour after curfew and that extends to anything past my porch. But still…
Doing my best to stay quiet, I climb over Blythe, landing on the carpet a little too loud. I cringe, checking over my shoulder to make sure they are still asleep. I’m dressed in a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a loose shirt, so I sneak to my dresser and pull out the first pair of jeans my hands land on.
As I’m tip-toeing to the door, my phone vibrates again.
Carter: Ur prob asleep.
Me: I’m awake. 1 sec.
My fingers fly over the screen as I slip out into the hallway, leaving my door cracked so I don’t accidentally shut it too hard. With my heart hammering in my chest, I creep down the stairs, praying I don’t hit one that creaks and gives me away. I’ve lived here for most of my life and never had that happen. Then again, I’ve never snuck out so late before and it would be just my luck.