Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
These early morning practices on Sundays are for the birds. I barely slept and my body is aching fiercely. I’m not sure if it’s my run-in with the brick building last night or all the movement from the game.
The only good thing about being here is being able to watch Kamden.
Standing on the sideline, my eyes remain fixed on him as he races to the end zone, ready to catch the pass from his teammate.
Most of our practices are held inside the sports arena, but occasionally, when the weather is nice, we practice outdoors. Today, it just so happens Kamden and a few of the other football players stuck around after their morning workout and they’re out on the practice field.
I watch intently as the ball flies through the air in a perfect spiral. I swear I can feel the breeze from that throw against my cheek.
I hold my breath, waiting to see if Kamden catches the pass.
Almost there. You’ve got it…
“Brogan!” The sound of a sharp voice breaks my concentration before the ball even lands in a pair of hands.
I turn to see our head coach, Wendy, her face twisted in frustration. “We’re here to practice, not to watch them practice.”
“Right.” My cheeks flush with heat. “What can I say? I love the sport.”
“The sport, or Kamden Donnelly?” one of the girls coughs out.
“Football and cheerleading are two different sports,” Coach Wendy says. “Right now, I need you to love our sport. Now focus.”
Laughter erupts beside me and I roll my eyes. I suspect it’s mostly the upperclassmen because they’re the ones who have been giving me a hard time ever since practices began this past summer. I was the only freshman to join the team this year, and from what I’ve heard, the new girls get it bad. I believe it now, too. They haven’t made it easy on me.
“Pay attention, ladies,”Coach Wendy barks, snapping her fingers. “Let’s run through the halftime routine one more time before practice ends.”
As the remix blares from the speaker, we all march back into formation, clapping our hands in unison before transitioning into our pyramid formation.
“He’s gonna break your heart,” Gabby says as she comes to my side, ready to lift Jules in the air. I don’t even look at Gabby as I push upward with the sole of Jules’s shoe in my palm. I grunt as we hoist her up, and my hand shakes as Jules flails her arms trying to balance herself.
I choke on a laugh because this girl will do damn near anything to get under my skin. “No need to worry about me. My heart is fully intact. But thanks for your concern.”
“Oh, don’t mistake my warning for concern.” She giggles annoyingly. “What Kamden and I have doesn't disappear because of one mistake. I can guarantee he’s still madly in love with me.”
“By mistake, you mean when you cheated on him, right? Or was it when he cheated on you? Sounds like more than one mistake to me.”
She grunts as she helps balance Jules and my wrist wobbles a little. “We moved past that.”
“Is that so?” I quip, only half focused on the routine now that Gabby is jabbering away.
“Yep. Ask him yourself.”
I bite back a smile, sarcasm dripping from my tone.I don’t believe her for a second. “If he’s the one who’s still madly in love with you, then why do you hit him up after every night of drinking? You realize I’m usually with him, right?”
“Usually is the operative word,” she snickers. She’s trying to get under my skin. That’s how girls like Gabby work.
I calm the rage simmering in my chest. I know Kamden is her ex. And no, I didn’t break girl code because Gabby is not my friend.
Jules wobbles and shakes and the next thing I know, she’s jumping down from the pyramid.
“What the hell, Jules!" Gabby scoffs as she throws her hands in the air. “That’s it. She’s not cut out for this. I say we put Lucia back on top. It’s obvious Jules has the balance of a seesaw.”
I’m probably the only one who sees the humiliation on Jules’s face—or at least, the only one who cares. She’s trying so hard.
“It’s okay.” I pat her on the back. “You’ll get there.”
Her silence speaks volumes and I can't help but feel like she’s blaming me for almost falling.
“We’re not making any changes,” Coach Wendy calls out with a sharp tone. “Back into formation and this time…” She pins me with stern eyes that burn into my skin. “No more bickering. We might not all be friends, but we’re still a team.”
I roll my eyes to Gabby’s scathing glare. She bites back a catty smile, pleased with herself.
The next go-around, we nail it. We look fucking beautiful out here. Jules is steady and stable. The rock stuck in the bottom of her shoe is only mildly painful. And Gabby keeps her bitchy mouth shut.
“That’s what I like to see,” Coach howls. “That was great, ladies. But tomorrow, I expect perfection.”
The team scatters, some form a circle and gossip. Likely about me, considering Gabby is at the center of the ring. Jules wanders off and I jog to catch up with her. She crouches down, reaching into her duffle bag. I come to a roaring stop when I’m at her side. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
Her head snaps around, tear-filled eyes peering up at me. “Not really, Brogan. Your little argument with Gabby almost had me face-planting out there.”
I let out an airy chuckle. “Don’t be silly. We wouldn’t have let you fall.”
“Really?” She stands, shoulders drawn back. “Because that’s not how it felt when I was up there. And because of that, I look like the one who lacks the skills to perform. You know how she is, Brogan. Just ignore her before she destroys this season for you.”
“I’m…sorry, Jules. I had no idea.”
She scoffs, snatching her bag up and aggressively throwing it over her shoulder. “Of course you didn’t.”
“Jules.” I throw my hands up, but before I can get out so much as a sincere apology, she walks away.
She’s definitely pissed. But after some time, she’ll cool down. Letting Gabby get to me mid-routine wasn’t my finest hour, but if I can prove to these girls I’m serious then maybe it won’t be so hard.
I have no idea how I will survive Gabby this season, but I really need to find a way to block her out of my head. She might be captain, but I don’t have to acknowledge her or her nasty words about my relationship with Kamden.
Turning around, I watch her and her groupies who are snickering with their gazes dancing from me to each other.
I’m not used to this sort of treatment. Back home, everyone loved me and if they didn’t, I didn’t care. I’ve always been nothing short of who I am and if people didn’t like it, then fuck them. But this is different. This is my team and the place I was supposed to have a fresh start. So far, my relationship with Kamden is only costing me things I care about instead of adding to my life.
I grab my duffle bag and sit down on the first row of the bleachers to wait for Kamden to finish up. Aside from a text last night where he said to stick around after practice, we still haven’t talked since the game yesterday and I’m anxious to see how he’s doing.
Reaching into my backpack, I pull out my sketchbook and shading pencil to kill some time. Drawing has always been my favorite pastime, even if it’s not something I share with many people. Now that I think about it, I don’t think Kamden even knows I like to draw.
As a kid, I would spend all my free time hunched over my sketchbook meticulously drawing dresses and other articles of clothing. My love for fashion was evident in the piles of Seventeen and Teen Vogue magazines scattered around my room. My passion for the art is why I’m working toward a degree in fashion merchandising.
One might ask why I chose fashion merchandising instead of fashion design. The truth is, I lack confidence in my abilities. I’m terrified of rejection and even more terrified of failure. This way, I still get to immerse myself in the industry doing something I love, even if I’m not the one creating the designs.
I drag the pencil down the blank page, forming the curves of an evening ball gown. I imagine it in a soft shade of baby blue with delicate crystals garnishing the corset.
Lucia comes jogging up to me after doing a lap around the outdoor track, so I slap my sketchbook closed. She doubles over and presses her hands to her knees. “You hanging around here for a bit?” she asks with heavy breaths and beads of sweat dripping down her face.
“Yeah, Kamden and I still need to talk.”
She straightens her back, eyes wide. “Like, the talk?”
“No,” I chuckle. “I’m not dumping him if that’s what you’re asking.”
She snaps her fingers and clicks her tongue. “Damn.”
I just shake my head because I know how much she dislikes him. “Kamden and I are just fine,” I tell her as I put my sketchbook and pencil back in my bag. “I can’t say the same for his ego, though. I know he blames himself for losing the game.”
She lets out a dismissive, “Eh,” before adding, “his fragile ego needed a good swift kick if you ask me. He’ll get over it.”
“Not you too?” I sigh. “Why do all my friends hate my boyfriend?”
“I don’t hate him,” she reiterates, glancing over at him on the field. “I just think you can do a hell of a lot better. You make Kamden a priority in your life and he doesn’t do the same for you.”
“He’s busy with school and football,” I say, feeling my defensive walls come up.
“And you’re busy with school and cheerleading.” The way she looks at me kind of reminds me of my mother. Her calculating eyes are always telling me to never accept less than what I’m worth. But that’s the thing. Here, I am no longer a big fish in a pond I know well. Here, I’m a guppy in a sea of sharks circling their prey. And all I want right now is to have at least one shark on my side who isn’t afraid to bite.
I breathe a sigh of relief when Kamden comes walking toward us. “I’ll call you later,” I tell Lucia, ending our conversation.
“Protect your heart, babe, because you won’t let anyone else do it for you.”
I dwell on her words for a second. I assume she means I won’t listen to her or Avery about their distaste for Kamden. But my mind skids to a halt when Kamden tugs off his practice jersey, revealing the glistening muscles of his chest and arms. He runs the damp fabric over his forehead, wiping up the trickling beads of sweat.
My feet spring out in front of me and I stand up. “Hey,” I say, trying to sound chipper despite my sheer exhaustion. “How was practice?”
Not even a hint of a smile forms on his face as he stares at me with a pinched expression. “A lot fucking better than last night.”
“Look,” I begin as I run my hand down his damp arm. “I know you’re beating yourself up over the game, but?—”
He takes a long stride back, putting distance between us. “You think this is about the game?”
My hand drops to my side while I rack my brain, trying to figure out why he’s so pissed. “What else would you be so upset about? Is it because I went to Piggy’s without you?” That’s a long shot because we always meet up there after the games and he was the one that didn’t show.
“No!” he stammers. “This is about the long-ass voicemail I listened to on my phone when I woke up this morning. Were you hanging out with Hayes fucking Madden?”
“What?” I spit out. “No! Of course not!”
A blazing flush of heat creeps up my neck and spreads across my cheek, my heart thumping against my rib cage. I feel like a child who’s been caught red-handed with her hand in the cookie jar, when in reality, I didn’t do anything. He just happened to be there.
“You’re fucking lying, Brogan. I heard the two of you on the voicemail.” His eyes narrow in on me and the anger on his face only intensifies. I’ve never seen him like this before. I am equal parts scared and pissed off.
“We didn’t hang out.” I reach out to touch his arm, but he quickly moves back even farther. It’s like there’s a chasm between us.
“Kam?” I say softly, trying to help him understand. “I saw Hayes, yes. He ran into me, literally, when I was leaving the bar to try and find you. Why didn’t you come to Piggy’s like we planned?”
“I was at my dorm in bed after that disaster of a fucking game.”
My heart hurts knowing he was going through that agony alone. “I’m sorry, Kam. I really wanted to be there for you.”
“Sounds like you were otherwise occupied.” He glares at me, his eyes cutting like glass.
I notice his fists clenched at his sides, jaw ticking as he grits out, “Did you fuck him?”
His words throw me completely off guard. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. How does he know? “I can’t believe you’re even asking me this?”
He steps closer until I can hear the grind of his teeth. “Answer the fucking question, Brogan. Did you fuck him?”
He knows. There is no way out of this one. I have to be honest.
“It was…before?—”
An exasperated huff escapes him as he whips around. “This is just fucking great.” Pacing back and forth, his fingers dig into his hair and pull at the roots. “Do you have any idea how much I loathe that guy?” Coming to a sudden halt, his eyes glower at me. “Hayes and I can’t stand each other, and my girlfriend fucked him!”
“Before you,” I finish, my voice cracking with each word. “I didn’t even know you when it happened. Hell, I didn’t even know him. It was a mistake and I wish more than anything I could go back and…unfuck him.” Bad choice of words, but I’m shaken right now. I'm surprised I’m even able to string together coherent sentences.
“Well, that's the thing about spreading your legs for strangers, Brogan. You can’t unfuck them.” He looks at me like I’m a dirty whore, and it makes my heart break in a way I wasn’t expecting. If he were to break up with me here and now, it would hurt, but nothing like the way his words are cutting into me right now.
“Wow,” I drawl as anger sparks inside me. I can’t believe he’s acting like this over something that happened before we even met. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. It’s not like I cheated. Not like I ever would.”
“You slept with my enemy!” he snaps. “Do you have any idea how that makes me look?”
Crossing my arms, I stand my ground, refusing to show him how much his words are getting to me. “How it makes you look? No, Kamden. I don’t. How does it make you look?” I ask, my tone condescending to match his.
He’s silent for a minute—careful with his words because he knows I’m just as fired up as he is. “It makes me look like I went after his sloppy seconds out of spite.”
His words hang in the air, stinging like a slap to my face. I feel my eyebrows scrunch together as I glare at him in disbelief. “That was low, Kam. Even for you.” I snatch my bag off the bleacher and throw it over my shoulder as I walk briskly away from the practice field.
A few seconds later, I glance over my shoulder, half expecting him to follow after me. But he’s not there. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I reach into my bag at my side to get my phone.
Once I’ve got it, I shoot a text to Avery.
Me: Where are you?
Avery: Hallstrom Lounge. Why?
Me: Piggy’s in an hour?
Avery: Hells yeahhhh!