Chapter 15 Jack
Homecoming was an odd tradition that seemed important for two groups of people: girls and their parents. I was pretty sure no guy cared if they were crowned homecoming king, some pleaded with people not to vote for them. Such was the case with Ty. Naturally, I voted for him.
He didn’t win.
Cal Winters won with his bitch of a girlfriend.
He marched at her side with an uncharacteristically stoic expression on his face, while Sasha beamed as if she’d just been crowned Queen of America. The only time he didn’t look like he was zoning out, he glanced at his teammates waiting on the sidelines for the halftime show to end.
Not once did he scan the stands. Not once did he search for me.
Not that I expected him to, but my bitter heart sure wanted him to.
And why shouldn’t I be bitter and jealous? After that kiss, I could give less than two shits about his girlfriend. I’d branded him mine. He probably still had the bruise to prove it.
For what had to be the longest, most punishing fifteen minutes of my life, Cal paraded around the field arm in arm with Sasha while I could do nothing but sit on my hands. I didn’t even cheer and shout obnoxiously for Ty as I’d planned.
I begged the fates for her to trip and fall. I begged for rain. I begged for Cal to toss off her arm and come for me, whisk me away like the princess he’d called me.
None of it happened, but when Sasha bounced beside him, tugged him lower, aiming and puckering for a kiss in front of the cameras, Cal denied her. He gently let go of her, said something that put a frown on her face, and raced for the sidelines, where his team waited.
That … Okay, that was—something.
Ty joined Mom, Dad, and me as soon as his homecoming court duties were over, and we stayed for the last half of the game.
No matter the play or the rallying of the crowd, I never took my eyes off number thirty-one.
He raced to the end zone. He play faked.
He drank Gatorade. He wiped sweat off his face.
He stretched his quads. He scanned the crowds when he ran to the sidelines.
Jesus, fuck.
The flutter in my chest said he searched for me. The realist in my head said it was only so he could scowl.
“Which one is that guy who was helping you set up for the festival?” Mom asked.
“Thirty-one,” Ty said before I could.
To me, she said, “And he’s the guy, right?”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
Cara interrupting whatever was about to shoot out of my mouth at the festival was probably a good thing.
Cal and I needed to talk, but I hadn’t a clue what needed to be said.
One kiss meant nothing. We needed to air this out at best and, at worst, make sure we were on the same page of loathing each other.
“What guy?” Dad asked.
“You remember Cal, the one Jack’s hung up on.” Mom said.
“Shhh,” I hissed as they chuckled. “All of you stop.” My unrelenting crush wasn’t something I wanted to talk about here or at all.
I sighed and dropped my head, then snapped to attention when a whistle was blown.
The defense ran out, and I could’ve sworn Cal’s gaze locked with mine as the offense hustled out of the way.
We were too far to be sure, but if he homed in on the same spot next time, I’d know.
Cal removed his helmet, rolled his head on his neck, drank and spit—and I watched every second in rapt fascination—and then he turned completely around, back to the field, and talked to Nick, who stood next to him. Only, his face was aimed toward me—and he wasn’t scowling.
Good. This was good.
Cal leaned in close as Nick responded, then turned around and watched the game.
Now what?
Since it was Homecoming, the stands were packed more than normal.
It shouldn’t be weird that I was at the game.
Especially since Ty was in the court. But it was weird.
He knew I was here and that I was watching him.
I had to talk to him, figure out where his head was, and hopefully avoid a return punch.
The Hickory Bend Wolves won. Cal scored three touchdowns. With each one, I would’ve sworn he glanced at me, and I snickered to myself. I noticed, Princess.
Surprisingly, Ty didn’t want to go to any parties afterward. As we headed for the parking lot, he gripped my arm and pulled me away from our parents with a promise that we’d be home soon.
“He was totally staring at you,” Ty said when we were alone.
“You thought so too?” It hadn’t been my imagination.
“Think you can stop fighting now? You can’t get kicked out of school.”
“It’s not in my plan.”
“What is, bro?”
I huffed but really needed to think about it. After Cal freaked, I was sure he was straight and realized what a bad idea he was playing around with. I’d made the first move against all my better judgment, and I wasn’t the type to keep pushing when there was nothing to push.
Sure, we’d almost been civil at the festival, and he’d stared me down tonight, but that was inconclusive. The real test would be at school next week. Classes would be back to normal, everything would be normal. We had our sessions and the mandated texting. Would he engage?
Monday morning, I watched my phone as I got ready for school. Would I initiate it today? I wanted any letter of recommendation I could get, so yeah, I probably would. Didn’t mean he’d reply. Should I act like nothing happened? Probably best.
Think Trent will have any special projects for us today?
There. I started it. Not an unrealistic question and not giving away my thoughts either. Cal couldn’t call me out for acting differently or making a big deal out of what happened.
He read it. The dots popped and dropped for a good solid minute before he finally responded.
Dipshit
One guess as to how many fucks I have to fucking give about what fucking Trent wants from me today.
Yep. He was angry. This wasn’t good. So naturally, I fought fire with more fire.
Apparently, you’ve got plenty of fucks in that pretty mouth of yours.
“Pretty” mouth? The fuck had that come from? Maybe he’d just read into it as me being an ass, which was fact, but also because damn, that mouth …
Dipshit
I fucking hate you.
Any more fucks, Princess? Open wide.
Dipshit
Fuck you.
You never disappoint. But seriously, it sounds like we both need to do this for that rec letter, so pull your head out of your ass and let’s get on with it.
Bag on my shoulder, dressed and ready for school, I stood in the middle of my room, staring at my phone and holding my breath. Would he? And if he did, would it mean anything?
Dipshit
Just for the rec letter?
Okay. So that’s how we’re playing it.
Wait, what? What had I missed? I typed a long string of question marks, but he responded before I had a chance to send them.
Dipshit
My favorite color is blue.
I pretty much hate all fish yet I want to try sushi one day.
I never read To Kill a Mockingbird in eighth grade.
I like Old Spice deodorant because my Granny used to give me a gift set of it every year at Christmas.
I like FPS over MMOs, cats AND dogs equally, and college ball is better than pro.
Holy—
That should be enough for now. No need to reply, I know too much about you already, so leave me alone.
Shit.
All that morning, I kept my eyes peeled for my once sworn enemy.
He walked the halls, head low, and sat in the class we shared, shoulders slumped.
Nick was at his side nearly every second.
During lunch, Cal played with his food while Nick and Michael flanked him at the table and carried the conversations around him.
He seemed gloomy, but I knew better. Cal was pissed.
“How were your weekends?” Trent asked at our session.
There hadn’t been a moment to talk with Cal and way too many moments to spiral. Knots cluttered my insides, each with varying emotions to torment me. Were we really going to pretend that kiss never happened?
“Fine,” I said to Cal’s nothing. He nodded, leaning on his right elbow, away from me.
“Good game, Cal,” Trent said.
He nodded again.
“The staff appreciates all the heavy lifting you boys put in last week.” Trent chuckled. “Saved us a lot of work.”
“We didn’t have a choice,” Cal grumbled.
Trent’s expression darkened. “What’s going on, Cal?”
Cal dropped his hand from where he’d been pinching his lips. By the death glare he threw Trent, it seemed he might explode across the desk and choke him. Suddenly, Cal swallowed hard, his eyes darted in my direction, not quite reaching me, and then he glanced out the window.
“Nothing,” he said.
“These sessions will only help if you let them, Cal.”
“You forget, Trent, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want your help.” Enough acid dripped from his tone I had to check the floor beneath his feet to make sure it hadn’t been eaten away.
“Good thing it’s not your choice.” Trent turned to me. “How about you, Jack?”
“What about me?” I asked, stalling.
“Anything bothering you? Any attitude you wanna throw at me over these mandatory sessions?”
My good-guy willpower broke as Trent aimed his temper at me for no reason.
“Let me stop you there.” I gestured between Cal and me.
“First off, we might be forced in here together, but we aren’t the same person.
So don’t bark at me if your conversation with him isn’t going how your textbook said it would.
Secondly, if I had any attitude to throw, it wouldn’t be over this.
This is high school, and it lasts until May.
Why stress over this temporary shit? Now, you, on the other hand, you’ll still be here, trying to reach kids who don’t want to be reached.
Is there anything you’d like to discuss, Trent?
Get off your chest? How did Cal’s attitude make you feel? ”
Cal snorted.
“Both of you are already on such thin ice, it amazes me how you keep pounding it with your heel.”
“I’ve been called stubborn,” Cal said.
“Maybe I’d rather get to the water below. Get rushed along instead of stuck here,” I said.