Chapter 15 Jack #2
Trent ignored us. “With Halloween being midweek, the school is jumping right ahead with preparations for Thanksgiving. Guess what you two will be doing?”
“I’m thinking decorating,” Cal said with a smirk.
“I bet there’s a box for it in the basement.”
“Maybe fake turkeys or fall leaves. I’ve got some ideas.”
“Or we could double up the holidays. Scary pilgrims splattered in fake blood,” I said.
“Real blood.”
“Too far, dude. That’s why you’re in here.”
Cal slapped one thick thigh with his palm, then pointed at me. “That settles it. Your blood.”
I snorted. This back-and-forth had a different edge to it. In spite of the obvious conversation we were yet to have, this felt comfortable, almost friendly. We’d always been quick with the witty remarks, but with the glint in his eyes, I could believe this was—affectionate.
At least, I didn’t think he wanted to hit me.
An involuntary tug on one corner of my lips imitated a smile. “Not gonna happen, Winters. You might be the running back, but you don’t have the stamina of a playmaker like me.”
Trent slammed his hand on his desk. “Are you two finished?” Without waiting for an answer, he dropped a large stack of brown paper in front of us, then a cutout of what I assumed was a turkey based on the rounded center and feathers sticking off its ass.
“Make cutouts until you run out of paper.”
Cal picked up the turkey we were to use as the cutting guide. “There’s only one.”
“You’ll have to share. That’s the point of this. Forcing you to work together.”
When the hour was up, we both stood and headed for the door. Trent stopped us with a snap and pointed at the pile of paper and turkey for our new project. Cal was closer, so he grabbed all of it.
“This is stupid,” he said when we were in the hallway.
“It’s supposed to be,” I grumbled.
At four o’clock, the school was mostly deserted. All that remained indoors were faculty and unlucky students in detention.
“When do you want to do this?” Cal lifted the stack of paper higher.
With him standing right here, close and not fighting me for thirty seconds, all I wanted to do was kiss him again, but we really should talk instead. I cleared my throat. “Maybe after we talk.”
The very lips I found myself staring at thinned.
“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing to talk about.”
And slap to the face. “Seriously?”
Cal glanced at Trent’s closed door, then up and down the empty hallway. “There is nothing to talk about because nothing happened to talk about.”
The fuck? “That right?” I snatched the project from his hands, dropped it on the floor, then followed it down. “How’re your ribs?” My backpack landed with a thud beside me. I fished out a pen and hastily traced around the turkey on the top sheet of brown paper while I waited for his answer.
With one turkey drawn, I grabbed half the stack, then placed the cutout on his half and left it on the floor when I got to my feet.
Cal glanced at the pile, then at the papers in my hands, and then to my mouth. “Fine. How’s your lip?”
“Fuck you.” I kicked the stack so it fanned across the hall, then pivoted and stalked off.
“Real mature, Jackass,” Cal yelled at my back.
Not one of my finer moments, true, but I’d be damned if I’d let him get away with saying nothing happened. Something had happened, and apparently, he wanted to keep his straight head in the sand about it.
Ty had waited for me in the library and picked up on my excellent mood.
“Wanna talk?” he asked.
“Nope.”
When we got home, Mom and Ty helped with the turkey cutouts. The three of us were spread in the living room when Dad came home from work.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Turkeys for Thanksgiving at school,” I said.
“They still have you doing these menial tasks as punishment?”
“Yes and no. I’m supposed to be doing this with Cal so we can work on our problems.” When Dad’s brows lifted as if to say “and?” I added, “So you can see how us working together has panned out.”
Dad sighed. “I’m very glad this is the senior year for both of you. The town may be pretty, but the school system is worthless.”
“Honey.” Mom’s calm voice soothed the tensions. “There’s blame that can be placed all around.” She turned her soft smile on me. “Did you and Cal not try to talk it out?”
Ty snorted.
“Shut up,” I snapped at him.
“Jack,” Mom sighed.
“Sorry, Mom. There’s no talking to him. Cal’s stubborn and insufferable. Besides, he doesn’t want to talk to me either. It’s not as if I’m making this more difficult. We just can’t stand each other.” Cold. Hard. Fact.
“He seemed like a nice guy.”
“You met him?” Dad asked Mom.
“Yes. Before the fall festival at the school. He also came by the booth I was at and said hello.”
“He did?” Ty and I said at the same time.
Mom laughed. “He did.”
“What did he say?” I realized how overeager I sounded when Dad’s assessing gaze switched to me.
“Can’t stand each other, huh?” Dad asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“Of course.” Dad nodded, draped his suit jacket over a chair back, and joined us on the floor.
“What did he say, Mom?” I asked again.
“Nothing, sweetie. He just said hello and hoped I was enjoying the festival.”
“And what did you say?”
Mom laughed again. “Jack, it’s obvious you really like him. I think you should try to get him talking again.”
Try to get him talking? That wasn’t the problem anymore. Now, Cal said there was nothing to talk about.
We finished tracing the turkeys, my hand cramping after cutting them out, and then I spent the rest of the night in my room alternating homework with pacing and passing a soccer ball foot to foot.
I didn’t want to keep pushing a brick wall, but I needed more from Cal than nothing.
He could at least tell me, to my face, that our kiss was nothing.
He could tell me he hadn’t been hard in his jeans, and the velvet of his tongue had been my imagination.
He could tell me he didn’t like how hot it got between us and deny he loved how aggressive we both were.
Nothing to fucking talk about? Okay, Calvin Winters, I’ll give you nothing to fucking talk about.