Tomboys Don't Wear Pink: How To Date A Tomboy

by Benjamin, Christina

  She’d actually made me feel that spark that came with instant attraction. Lexy had been the only other girl who’d ever made me feel that way. But back then, dancing with Marissa, feeling sparks . . . it had been too soon. I was still raw from getting my heart trampled by Lexy, and I was pretty sure Marissa wasn’t interested considering she’d spent the rest of the homecoming dance staring at Miller Fields. I wonder if they ever got together?

  “Earth to Archer?” Marissa called bringing me back to the present. “Are you sure I didn’t give you a concussion or something? I’ve been told my head’s tougher than a two-dollar steak.”

  I laughed. “I’m fine.”

  “Sorry,” she apologized again. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I guess I’ve got first practice jitters.”

  I arched an eyebrow. The only teams practicing today were football, soccer and wrestling. And despite her stellar ability to take a hit she didn’t look the wrestling type. “You’re playing soccer?”

  “Sure am!” she replied showing off her pearly whites.

  Wow, what a smile. “I thought you played softball?”

  “A gal can do both,” she replied eyeing me like she was expecting an argument.

  She wouldn’t get one. I had three sisters. I knew telling them they couldn’t do something was a one-way ticket to misery. “Good for you,” I said, meaning it.

  “I’m in drama club and choir too, in case you’re inquiring.”

  I wasn’t, but I was still impressed. “What are you, the Energizer Bunny?”

  “Just trying to find where I fit in ‘round here,” she said, her sweet southern accent intensifying as her smile made its way into her voice again.

  I found her accent calming. It seemed less pronounced than when I’d first met her, and I fought my urge to tell her not to hide it to fit in. I didn’t want her to take it the wrong way though, or worse, think I was hitting on her. It seemed just breathing the same air was considered flirting to most girls at Northwood, so I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  Marissa

  I eyed Archer. For the king of Northwood High, he looked strangely uncomfortable. I couldn’t figure out why. It’s not like running into me was a big deal. I’m sure a god like him mowed down mere mortals all the time. “You’ve got practice today too, right?” I asked hoping to break the tension I saw ticking in his jaw.

  He nodded.

  “Then we better get going.” The bell rang punctuating my point as we moved into the main hall. We fell into silent step heading toward the athletic wing. But silence was never my virtue so I automatically started up a conversation to fill the void. “So, what’s Northwood’s QB1 doing hanging out in the music wing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on this side of campus before.”

  “Guilty,” he said, giving me a lopsided smile. It was bashful and charming, making him resemble an uncertain puppy. I don’t know why but that made it somehow easier to talk to him. Well, that and the fact that Archer Montgomery was so far out of my league I couldn’t find a reason to feel nervous in his presence.

  “So?” I pressed, my curiosity piqued. “You looking to explore your artistic side or something?”

  Archer smiled again but shook his head. “Nah. Just trying to lay low.”

  “Avoiding the lipstick mafia?” I asked.

  His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

  “That’s what I call Lexy’s mob of mean girls.”

  He laughed. A genuine, deep belly laugh that I doubted he let most people hear. I certainly hadn’t heard it before, but I did have a way of shocking folks. I guess my southern hospitality, or more likely lack thereof, caught people around here off guard. Either way, I was glad I’d lightened Archer’s stoic mood. No seventeen-year-old with his golden boy good looks and social status should look that serious.

  “That’s a pretty accurate title for them,” he said, still smiling.

  “Don’t I know it? They’re the reason I can’t put on a theater production this semester.”

  Archer frowned. “Really?”

  “Apparently the cheerleaders need the auditorium stage to practice for competition.” I inhaled positivity reaffirming my mission not to let Lexy and her minions get to me.

  “That seems unfair.”

  “Yeah. I’m learning there’s a lot that’s unfair ‘round here,” I muttered.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning this school is backwards. Y’all treat male athletes like gods, but us gals get labeled as trashy tomboys if we dare play a sport.”

  Archer’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I would never say that!”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t but that doesn’t stop people like Lexy and her friends from making it clear that’s how we’re seen. Ya know, I think the only reason she won’t work with me and share the auditorium is because she’s still got her britches in a bunch over one of her minions ditching her to play softball for us last year.”

  I huffed an uppity breath, realizing I’d totally abandoned my mission to be zen about losing my battle for the auditorium to Lexy—but pandora’s box was already open so I might as well just let it all spill out. “Embracing my inner tomboy certainly isn’t making it easier to fit in here, which sucks because I actually like playing sports,” I grumbled tugging my elastic band to make my ponytail tighter. “Meanwhile you and your teammates get to walk around like local celebrities.”

  Archer shook his head. “Trust me, it isn’t as glamorous as it seems.”

  “Says the celebrity,” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest. “But don’t worry. I’m not gonna let one bad apple spoil the barrel. I’ve got my eye on the prize and I’m gonna win y’all over. Just wait and see.”

  I could see Archer’s knowing smirk. I knew he didn’t think that would happen. At least he didn’t say so out loud. He also probably thought I was still talking about Lexy.

  Truthfully, I didn’t care about her. I’d spent enough time on stage to know haters were a dime a dozen and the best way to deal with them was to ignore them. What I was no longer willing to ignore however were my feelings for Miller. He was the one I wanted to win over.

  It wouldn’t be easy to impress someone like him, but I did my best work when I was the underdog.

  I was aware of what people saw when they looked at me—just an average girl. Average height, average brown hair, average brown eyes. Alright my boobs were a bit above average but it’s not as if I wanted to be known as the girl with the boobs!

  But being average was just fine by me. It meant I could fly under the radar when I wanted to. That way I could sneak up and stun my competition with my talent and Texas-sized tenacity.

  That strategy had won me a lot of pageants and parts.

  Now I was hoping it would win me a date with Miller Fields.

  “So, you still haven’t said why you were in the music wing,” I added, returning my attention to Archer, who was back to brooding.

  “I was just hanging out.”

  “Please, I’m new ‘round here, and even I know you haven’t been in that wing since you met your music requirement.”

  He gave me that easy lopsided smile again. “Actually, I never had to take music.”

  “What?” I squeaked. “That’s a crime. Don’t you have to meet some sort of elective requirements?”

  “Sure, but sports count as an elective.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make the rules. I actually like music.”

  “Everyone likes music,” I replied. “That’s like saying you like food or air.”

  He laughed again, the deep timbre rolling through him like thunder. But it didn’t distract me from the fact that he still hadn’t answered my question. Luckily for my curiosity, we had a lot of ground to cover before we got to the locker rooms.

  “I’m just gonna go out on a limb here and guess you were hiding.”

  Archer gave me some wicked side-eye. “I wasn’t hiding.”

  “Oh rea
lly? Why else would the king of Northwood be lurking in the shadows of the lowly music wing?”

  “I wasn’t lurk—” but before he finished his sentence he yanked me off my feet and pulled me into an empty classroom.

  Archer was so close I could see the whites of my eyes reflected in his pupils.

  “What in the world?” I gasped.

  “Shhhh!” he hissed, pressing us into the door that he’d silently latched shut.

  I tried to oblige but my heart was beating so hard it could probably be heard all the way back in Texas.

  As Archer’s perfect muscles melted me into a pile of helpless hormones, I realized something about myself. I was neither fight nor flight.

  How disappointing!

  A bear of a man had just picked me up and forced me into a dark classroom against my will and I’d done nothing. No fighting, no fleeing. In fact, the only thing racing was my pulse.

  A moment passed as I stood there chastising myself. My heart pounding against Archer’s as my body flooded with uncontrollable heat as I inhaled his intoxicating cologne.

  What was that scent? Pure sex appeal?

  I found myself wondering if Archer had stumbled upon some kind of magical power source that gave him complete influence over the opposite sex. He also seemed to have the ability to turn it on and off at will.

  One minute we were walking along having a friendly conversation and then next I was envisioning how cute our babies would be.

  I am not this girl!

  I mean, yes, there was no denying the boy was hot. Perfect sandy blond hair, dreamy blue eyes, a knee-weakening smile, broad shoulders, muscles for days, abs that do that V-thing that make grown women drool. Archer Montgomery was sex on legs!

  This close up it seemed incredibly unfair that one person could possess so many flawless qualities. Heck with football! The boy should model or act, not risk damaging the gifts the good Lord gave him to throw around a pigskin.

  As much as I didn’t exactly mind being this close to the real-life version of Captain America, I was sort of hoping to make it to soccer practice today and start up a thing with the soccer god I’d been crushing on.

  “Archer?” I started.

  He held his finger up to his lips, his eyes so pleading my heart ached. Then he closed them and leaned closer. Oh good Lord! Archer Montgomery was going to kiss me!

  Heck no! No boy, no matter how gorgeous was gonna steal my first kiss unless I was good and ready!

  Finally, my fight or flight reflex kicked in. I planted my hands against Archer’s chest and shoved.

  I knew it! I was fight!

  As proud as I was that I wasn’t a complete pushover, my efforts were useless. Moving Archer was like moving an ox. With muscles like that, I was pushing him nowhere.

  I was just about to tell him where to shove his muscles when I heard them; the high-pitched voices of the lipstick mafia, most likely on their way to cheerleading practice. My eyes met Archer’s and a spark of recognition jolted through me.

  Suddenly, it was painfully clear that he had been hiding in the music wing.

  Shame filled me for teasing him. I’d witnessed the cruel way Lexy had publicly dumped him. And it was no secret that every girl in school was on a mission to date him ever since. The poor guy probably hadn’t even had time to let his heart heal before girls started throwing themselves at him. I could imagine that got old.

  I remember feeling so bad for him at homecoming that I’d danced with him just to rescue him from Jillian Jones who’d practically glued herself to him the moment he stepped onto the dance floor. But Jillian’s dance-hogging ways had started a cat fight among the other girls waiting to have their turn with Archer. That’s when I’d swept in, hoping to give him a breather.

  He really was like a celebrity. No place was safe for him to just be a normal guy. The halls of Northwood were probably the worst. He had his own personal fan club of stalk-arazzis ready to pounce the moment they sensed weakness or in his case, date-ability.

  Sheesh! No wonder he was so broody.

  When the voices in the hall faded, Archer exhaled in obvious relief, but it was short lived. He backed away from me, gripping the back of his neck in embarrassment as he tried to figure out what to say.

  I spared him. “It’s fine,” I said softly.

  His surprise was endearing. “It is?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, I get it.”

  His eyes bulged further.

  “Everyone deserves breathing room, right?” I replied, wanting to offer him a bit of camaraderie so he’d stop looking so lost. “Even local celebrities,” I added with a wink.

  His lopsided cute-boy smirk was back. “Um, thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  He peered into the hall and looked both ways before exiting the safety of the classroom.

  I followed him out and this time, we walked the rest of the way to the locker rooms in silence. When we finally reached our destination, I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and touched his arm.

  He looked at me quizzically.

  “Just so you know, you really can’t beat the music wing if you need a place to escape. The drama club meets in the last practice room on the right. It’s always unlocked, and we accept all types of stowaways, including broody quarterbacks.”

  A grin flashed across his face faster than a prairie fire.

  Wow! Did he have dimples, too?

  “Thanks,” Archer said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I shook my head as I waved him off and headed into the girls’ locker room, still cursing the unfairness of all those good looks waisted on one face.

  Chapter Three

  Marissa

  Soccer was no joke. I’d made the team, but I was beginning to wonder how. Soccer was a lot harder than softball. I’d never run so much in my life! The softball team I’d walked onto last year was brand-new, but these soccer girls had been playing together for years and it showed. I had no idea what all the terms flying around meant. The only thing I had going for me was that I got paired up with an awesome partner.

  The soccer coach liked to pair up the new players with more experienced ones. Considering I was a senior, some people might find it offensive that I’d been paired with a sophomore. But not when that sophomore was Nicole Fraser.

  The girl was a phenom. She was about half as big as a minute, but covered ground like a titan. She looked like a little brunette Shakira out there and she moved her hips like her too. I liked a girl with swagger. And Nicole had plenty. She’d been starting varsity since she was a freshman. But despite her obvious skills, she was still humble, which I appreciated immensely.

  Nicole took a seat next to me in the locker room after practice to check on me. I was drenched in sweat, still trying to catch my breath, but Nicole looked like she’d just been out for a leisurely stroll in the park.

  “Okay,” I huffed. “What’s your secret? How are you not winded?”

  She laughed. “An older brother and a super competitive streak.”

  “Does he play soccer, too?” Maybe he knew Miller.

  “Nah, he’s all about crew.”

  “Crew? Like the skinny boat thing?”

  She smirked. “Please call it that when you meet him?”

  “Will I be meeting him?”

  “If you stick around you will. My parents make us go to each other’s sporting events.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.”

  “Not really. I have to spend all my free Sundays watching sweaty guys in spandex row boats to nowhere.”

  “Spandex, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  Nicole laughed. “It could be worse.”

  “Well, thanks for your help today,” I said, nodding toward the field. “I know I probably looked as useful as a trapped door in a canoe out there, but I’m a fast learner and I don’t like to quit.”

  “Good. Neither do I. Stick with me. I’ll get you up to speed.”

  I grinned. “Thanks.”

 
“Anytime,” Nicole said, picking up her bag and walking toward the door. At the last minute she paused and turned around. “You weren’t all bad out there, Texas. I saw some natural talent.”

  “Really?”

  She grinned. “I hope you stick around.”

  I smiled, my spirits soaring at Nicole’s words. Despite the fact that I knew every muscle in my body would ache tomorrow, I knew it was worth it, because soccer was already giving me more than I’d hoped for—a new friend.

  Maybe my senior year could be salvaged after all.

  Chapter Four

  Archer

  A week later, it happened again. I found myself hiding in the music wing holding my breath. I hadn’t meant to take Marissa up on her offer, but three cheerleaders cornered me at lunch, and I couldn’t see another way out. I’d ducked out of the cafeteria and started jogging down the hall. Before I knew it, I was cloaked in the silent safety of the deserted music wing.

  As I walked into the practice room Marissa told me about, I realized how quickly this could become a bad habit. This place was like my own personal heaven; a safe haven where I could not only relax but indulge in my secret obsession.

  I flicked on the light switch and the small room came to life, greeting me with the warm glow of fluorescent bulbs. The white block walls were lined with gray acoustic panels and recording controls I didn’t know how to use, but they piqued my curiosity. There were a couple of chairs, some music stands and a few microphones. On the far wall sat an upright piano, its white keys tempting me with an inviting glimmer.

  I grinned, walking straight for the piano.

  When I’d told Marissa I liked music, it’d been a bit of an understatement. I loved it. Actually, I wished there was a stronger word than love, because it didn’t seem big enough to convey my true feelings for music.