Chapter 12 Cal
After nothing but silence on Sunday, I’d thought my words had sunk in, that Sasha had accepted we were broken up.
Nope. She’d been plotting and planning or some shit and hit me with it the next morning.
Not once did she apologize for attacking me Saturday night.
I’d been so shocked and fucked-up in the head, I couldn’t remember all of it, exactly, but I’d told her to stop, right?
I was sure of it. Maybe not loud enough, though.
The redness from her slap across my face had faded quickly. The ache in my balls lasted a little longer.
So I fucking blocked her number. Done.
Sasha wasn’t done.
When I didn’t respond to her or show her attention at school, Sasha texted Cara, getting my little sister involved in her shit.
“I don’t know what to do with this.” Cara showed me her phone. Even with seventh through twelfth grades being on the same campus, we didn’t see each other much in between classes, but she’d found me.
Sasha Dobson
Where is Cal?
Have Cal call me.
Your brother is ignoring me and this in an emergency.
I growled, not bothering to read the rest of them before I deleted the entire conversation and then promptly blocked Sasha’s number. “You signed into Insta and all that?”
Cara nodded.
I checked every app, blocked Sasha wherever I could, then checked all of Cara’s settings, making sure her privacy was as locked down as I knew how to make it. “If she says anything to you, one peep,” I said as I double-checked everything, “you tell me.”
“Yeah, sure.” Cara took her phone, then lunged and hugged me before running to her next class.
Fuming, I pulled my phone free and unblocked Sasha’s number.
Better me than Cara.
Leave my sister alone. You got shit to say, say it to me. You got it?
Sasha Dobson
Babe!
Why do you make me jump through hoops to talk to you?
Please, stop this. We broke up.
Sasha Dobson
I’m not done with you.
I see that, but don’t message my sister. Don’t even talk to her.
Sasha Dobson
So mean, babe. I love Cara. She’s like a sister to me too.
I growled in frustration and punched the nearest locker. Heads swiveled my way, but I stalked off, needing away from people, away from everything.
Why are you doing this? Why are you acting like this?
Sasha Dobson
I told you, BABE. I’m not done with you.
Fine. Then let it be me, just me. Leave everyone else, including Cara, out of it.
Sasha Dobson
I’ll think about it as long as you don’t tell a soul what you said to me Saturday night.
What I said?
Sasha Dobson
The B word.
Break up?
Sasha Dobson
Yes. That never happened.
“Oh my God,” I groaned, scrubbing my face in an effort to cleanse my brain of her psycho. Thankfully, no one was nearby this time.
I won’t say anything, but it DID happen.
When she left me on read for all of one minute, no typing bubbles, nothing, I called it a win and headed to class.
Fuck her.
The fall festival was the week of Homecoming again this year.
As the school readied for the festivities, the town readied for trick-or-treating.
Houses were draped in fake spiderwebs, tombstones, and ghouls.
Classrooms were decorated with fake pumpkins, all things orange and black, and sign-up sheets for festival booths and activities.
This also marked the first time Jack and I would have to work alongside each other.
Trent hadn’t been joking about us being used as manual labor.
At our Monday session, he told us we’d be pulled from a few classes Tuesday and Wednesday for setup and to bring out some of the heavier decorations from the basement.
First off, I didn’t even know the school had a basement. Secondly, I figured Jack was just as excited about it as I was, considering how fast he ran from Trent’s office when the hour was over.
The school had been hosting this festival for so many years now, it was an art form and well organized.
Tuesday during our last two periods, Jack and I met with some of the faculty to unload the tables from the back of a trailer.
There were tons of people around, and we didn’t actually have to work together.
With the tables out, we moved on to the booths until three, when we were let go for our respective practices.
Wednesday 7:06 AM
Princess
I’m younger than Ty by 12 minutes and he loves reminding me.
Aww, that’s cute, Princess.
Princess
Tell me your new thing, then stfu.
You’re really not a morning person, are you?
Princess
…
Whatever. Sometimes I wish I was an only child.
Princess
Dark, but okay. Why?
I didn’t mean it dark. Just meant, worrying about Cara can be a lot. Ty would understand.
Princess
Doubt it. Ty doesn’t have a little sister.
Doesn’t he though?
Princess
I hate you.
Do you though?
Princess
God, I wish I could block your number.
We were pulled from class early on Wednesday.
Most assignments were a joke this week. We weren’t missing anything important, except our joint session today.
However, working alongside Jack with Trent hovering was pretty much one giant session—with the added benefits of Jack exerting himself in various ways.
“Jack,” a feminine voice called.
I straightened from the bale of hay I’d just placed on the outline for pumpkin bowling and glanced at a woman waving at Jack with a bright smile. He took a deep breath, then jogged the short distance to her. She kept coming, and he clearly didn’t like it.
Jack mumbled something and reached for her hand, which she squeezed, but she didn’t stop until she stood right beside the long lines of hay bales we’d already placed.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
I glanced at Jack, waiting for him to answer, but he only chewed the corner of his mouth and adjusted from foot to foot.
“Pumpkin bowlin’,” I said.
“Oh my. That sounds—messy.”
I nodded with a big grin that only widened when Jack’s scowl darkened. “It is. They put out the really ripe ones. Makes it easier to bust ’em open, which is all anyone wants to see.”
She laughed, then stepped closer. “I’m Alissa, Jack’s mom.”
I took off my glove to shake her offered hand. “Cal.”
Alissa eyed me up and down. “You don’t play soccer, do you?”
“No, ma’am. Football. Jack and Ty are really good, though. If we’d had a decent team before I started football, I might’ve joined.”
Alissa glanced at Jack, who was still frowning a few feet from us. “They are good. We’re really proud of them. How come they’ve got you two out here doing all this?” She glanced around, probably noting the lack of other students helping.
I was close to telling her this was punishment but stopped. She had to know about him getting detention, but I didn’t know if Jack had told her the rest of it.
“This is Cal, Mom. The dipshit I got in trouble with.”
Well, I supposed he’d told her everything.
“Jack.” Alissa rolled her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am. I am that dipshit. Good to know he talks about me at home.” I winked at Jack to piss him off more. It worked, so I smiled even wider.
“I’ll let you get back to it, then. It was nice to meet you, Cal.”
I nodded. “Ma’am.”
Alissa turned to Jack, then gripped his arm and steered him the way she’d come.
He glared over his shoulder at me long enough the sweat turned cold on my back, then lowered his gaze to his momma.
I got busy moving hay bales around and didn’t notice he’d returned until I straightened and got an eyeful of his ass.
Bent over, nudging a bale to the markers, Jack grunted and huffed, doing his damnedest to derail my good sense without even knowing it. The hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt had slid just enough to show off the pale skin of his lower back above the band of his white Calvin Klein boxers.
Funny story, I was actually named after Calvin Klein because my granny’s favorite movie was Back to the Future. A part of me wanted to say something about him having my name on his underwear, but that’d tell him I’d been looking.
His faded blue jeans were tight across his ass. Admittedly, it was a nice ass. Did I want to see more of it? Feel it? Hold it? Squeeze it? Did gay guys do that to each other? Not that I’d committed to being gay, but I was keeping an open mind about labels.
In the next instant, Jack righted, the moment was over, and my disappointed sigh was a little louder than I expected it to be.
Legs spread and braced, Jack twisted his upper body and growled, “Don’t talk to my mom.”
Uh … “What?”
“You heard me. I don’t need you being fake nice to her.”
“What the hell? That wasn’t fake. I am nice.” I threw my hands up. “Why do I even try to defend myself to you as if it matters.” I stomped over to the bales, picked one up for myself, but tossed it in his direction. Maybe I was pissed. Maybe I was showing off.
Since Jack was scowling at me, he saw it coming and batted it out of the way of hitting him. “Very mature, Winters.”
“Calling me Winters now? A step up from dipshit.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Are you sure they got your name right on the soccer roster? Shouldn’t it say ‘Jackass’ instead of ‘Jackson’?”
Jack smirked, and I almost smiled in anticipation of his comeback. “You’d know about the roster, huh? Stalking me at my games? What? Miss me at the dry cleaners?”
Well, fuck. I didn’t have an answer for that. I still wasn’t sure why I’d gone to that game last week.
Jack blinked just before his barely there smirk melted into impassive.
“Finish your shit. I’ve got an exhibition match after school.” Jack bent over to grab the bale I’d launched at him, then stood with a snap of his spine and barked, “You better not fucking be there either. I don’t need you fucking up my game with your vibes, Princess.”