Chapter 19 #2
The Chesterville Vikings ended up winning the coin toss, so they met at the starting line with the ball.
I hooked my fingers through the chain-link fence, ducking my head, using my hair to cover my profile.
No one’s looking at you, Madison, I told myself, somewhat glad to have Logan’s jacket to blend in.
No one is looking at you. Stop being paranoid.
The play started with the sound of clashing shoulder pads, and I lost Curtis in the fray. Chesterville’s quarterback tried to throw the ball, but one of the Jefferson players snuck through the defensive line, slamming into his midsection before he could properly pull his arm back.
“Boo,” I muttered under my breath.
Logan laughed beside me as he clapped.
It turned out it was impossible to cheer for the Vikings, because they sucked.
Bad. Sure, it was probably horrible of me to say that about a kiddo team, but they consistently had a problem with their offense.
They fumbled the ball twice, to which Jefferson quickly snatched it up and ran touchdowns.
The third time the Vikings were in possession, they couldn’t move forward ten yards to get a first down, and the ball turned over to Jefferson.
Logan got to cheer more times than I did, and halfway through the second quarter, I decided the Vikings were hopeless.
So, begrudgingly, I started watching the Bulldogs.
They were nowhere nearly as skilled as Brentwood’s middle school team, but they were pretty good.
One of their plays was annoyingly impressive in how they executed it, with three boys passing by the quarterback and faking out the Vikings.
They followed the wrong boy, while Number 2 was able to slip past them all the way to the end zone.
Logan let out a whoop, and I clenched the chain-link fence tighter to keep from clapping.
The timer was counting down on the second quarter when Logan turned to me. “Want to go get food from the concession stand? If we go now, it won’t be too long of a line.”
“You go,” I told him, not looking away from the field. “I’ll stay here.”
The Bulldogs were about ten yards from the end zone, with five minutes left on the clock. And counting. I couldn’t believe Logan could just walk away at a moment like this, when they were so close to a touchdown.
I had to admit… they were actually kind of cute on the field. They looked so small, like the grass around them had somehow doubled in size. My eyes locked on Number 13. He hunched down, and from here, I could see his gaze focus on the player in front of him.
When the quarterback called the play, everyone burst into motion, including Curtis.
He flew forward, using his small amount of body weight to slam into his opponent, blocking them from proceeding.
I smirked at his small cleats sliding on the grass; the Chesterville player was able to push him backward with tremendous ease.
My lips parted, but I managed to catch the words before they escaped. You’ve got this, I wanted to call out to him. Great job!
What would one little cheer hurt? I was cheering on a cute little boy, not necessarily a Bulldog.
The buzzer sounded then, just before the Bulldogs could cross the end zone, and I jumped. Jefferson was in the lead, even without the touchdown, by a landslide. I wondered if they mercied middle school games. If they didn’t, they should.
I kept facing the field even as the players walked off for their half-time huddle, afraid to turn around and make eye contact with anyone.
Time passed by slowly while Logan was off getting us snacks, and I scrolled through my phone while I waited.
Nothing from Jade. Nothing from Babble, either, on who was in the kissing closet.
I wasn’t curious enough to text Riley, but I pulled up Jade’s text thread.
Hey, so who was in the closet??
I hesitated in sending it, though, my thumb hovering over the button. What if she called me after my text? What if she asked to come over and gossip about it?
What if she asked me about Coach Chelsea?
Much to my surprise, Jade hadn’t pushed me about my conversation with Coach. In fact, it was like Jade hadn’t asked me to give up co-captain at all. But what if she brought it up? What would I say? Coach hasn’t decided yet? Would she believe me?
An anxious wave washed over me, and I closed my eyes, the weight of Logan’s varsity jacket pressing on my shoulders. When did everything become so exhausting? I thought. What am I doing?
When I opened my eyes, I found a red slushy between me and the fence. I traced the arm up to find Logan holding it. “I hope you like cherry. It was either that or cola.”
I took it gratefully. “Not a fan of cola?”
“Not really.” Logan suddenly looked alarmed. “Why? Are you? Because I can go back and get another—”
I pushed onto my tip-toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw, my movement sudden and striking. “Cherry’s good,” I replied nonchalantly, turning back to the field so he couldn’t see my smirk.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him press a hand to the spot I’d kissed. “Sneak attacks aren’t nice,” Logan grumbled, and I bit down on the plastic straw.
He came up behind me and stretched his arms out on either side, caging me in against the fence. His body was a solid presence at my back, close but not quite touching. Not really. I wanted to lean into him, but instead took a long draw of the slushy, letting it freeze my brain.
The players came back out onto the field as their halftime timer counted down. It ended with a blare of the buzzer.
“Were you like that at that age?” I asked Logan, eyes on the boy on the field. Curtis once again had been pitted up against a larger boy from Chesterville, his form all wrong. “All big dreams and no clue what you’re doing?”
Logan drew in a breath, and his chest brushed against my back. “Weren’t we all?”
I waited, but he didn’t go on. I tried to imagine what a seventh grade Logan Castle might’ve looked like.
Was he a kid who got his growth spurt early?
Late? Was he hyper? Shy? I laughed a little under my breath at that last one—I couldn’t imagine Logan shy.
Nervous sometimes, yes, but not shy. “Were you a troublemaker or a rule-follower?”
“Depends on who you ask.” He gripped the chain-link tighter, flexing his forearms. “What about you? You don’t strike me as the rebellious type.”
I looked over my shoulder, raising my eyebrows.
He immediately grinned. “Aside from your love life.”
I turned back toward the football field. “I was kind of quiet at school. Jade was the one who was louder, more of a leader, and I just… followed.” I’ll follow you ’til the end. My half of our mantra. I couldn’t remember when we’d started that. “Not rebellious. Definite rule-follower.”
“No cheating on tests?” he asked. “No pulling pranks?”
For half a second, my first instinct was to laugh—until I remembered freshman year cheer auditions. “No pranks,” I replied, but my tone was considerably smaller.
But as easily as it’d popped into my head, it was hard for it to get out. What would Logan say if he knew about what I’d done to Maisie? Would he look at me differently? Would he be disgusted?
The uncertainty left me feeling sick. “What do you miss the most about who you used to be when you were younger?” I asked, needing the subject change.
Logan was quiet as he thought about it, and my focus drifted while I waited.
Was it cliché to say that I missed the childish innocence?
Life seemed so much simpler in middle school.
Chatting with Jade at school, hanging out with Maisie after.
We’d even used to do our homework together in her living room—we both went to different schools, but there’d been something so calming about working on different subjects together.
I hadn’t been so intense about optics and appearances.
I wasn’t even sure I’d heard the word optics before.
And then high school changed everything. But that was normal for everyone, right? I couldn’t stay stuck in middle school forever. I had to grow up sometime.
I realized then that Logan hadn’t answered.
Logan was looking off at the ground when I peeked back at him, but not at the players on the field.
It looked like he just stared at a patch of grass.
I studied his expression, because it was the one I rarely got to see.
Quiet. Remote. As if his thoughts were on a whole other plane of existence.
There wasn’t a hint of a smile to his lips, like there always was.
Until he felt my stare on him. Logan blinked, and his expression cleared, like a light turned on. Or like a mask slid on. He met my eyes with a smile. “Did you see that tackle?” he asked, tipping his chin toward the field.
I turned a little more in the cocoon of his arms, the slushy slipping in my grip. “What were you thinking about just now?”
“Not sure. Was my face serious?” Logan pinched his features into a theatrical scowl.
It was obvious he was trying to brush it off. It only caused my curiosity to hook deeper. “I asked a question,” I said, popping my hip against the chain-link. “What do you miss the—”
“Logan?”
The new voice cut me off mid-sentence, and we both turned to find a girl with dark hair standing a few feet away. Her eyes were popped wide as she looked at him—or, really, at us. Her eyes went from Logan, to me, to the jacket my arms were threaded through, back to Logan.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Logan said in greeting, sounding equally as surprised as she looked. Or nervous. He dropped his arms from the fence, from me, and took a step toward her. “You—you didn’t text.”
I looked at her a bit closer. She seemed about our age, and she didn’t have any makeup on, but she was still really pretty. You didn’t text.
“I didn’t know I needed to,” she said, shifting onto her other foot. She looked at me wearing Logan’s varsity jacket again. “You never come to the middle school games.”
“Curtis asked,” he told her while tipping his head toward the field. “I thought I’d swing by.”
I watched the exchange silently. Jade would’ve said that they were obviously flirting. Jade would’ve interjected into their conversation long ago. Jade would’ve gotten upset. Jade would’ve—
No. I would not react how Jade would’ve reacted.
The exact second I took a step forward, ready to introduce myself, Logan reached back and grabbed my hand. “This is Madison,” he said, sliding his fingers in the open spaces of mine. His pressure was firm, pulling our hands out as if to show them off. “We’re on a date.”
And all at once, the anxious cloud hanging over me disappeared.
“You brought her to a middle school football game for a date?” The girl raised an eyebrow at him, and then her gaze slid to me. I could see the teasing in her expression. “Are you here against your will?”
Well, actually— “It isn’t the cringiest place he’s brought me to,” I replied with a smile of my own.
She laughed at that, a light and happy sound.
Logan gave my hand a squeeze. “Madison, this is Danielle. She’s my best friend’s girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you,” I told her, genuinely meaning it. His best friend’s girlfriend—who was his best friend again? He rarely ever talked about his friends, at least by name.
“Likewise,” Danielle returned with a smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. Madison, did Logan invite you to our bonfire on Friday?”
“Oh, uh—no. He didn’t.”
“Just a few of us from theater are getting together. He can’t come until after his game, but he still promised.” She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.
“I said I’d be there,” he insisted, letting out a breathy chuckle before he turned to me. He rubbed the side of his neck with his free hand. “I didn’t mention it, because…”
I could guess where his thoughts went instantly. He didn’t mention it because it would be his Jefferson friends—a Jefferson bonfire. Much like coming to the football game, he probably thought I’d say no.
I turned back to Danielle. “I have a thing with my friends after our game,” I said apologetically, and that was true.
Danielle’s eyes lit up. “Oh, where do you go to school?”
Oh, crap. My lips parted, but the answer didn’t immediately tumble out.
“Haven High,” Logan replied before my silence stretched too long, and while I hesitated, he didn’t. The lie slipped off his tongue easily, as if he’d always had it prepared. For some reason, hearing him lie settled over me as heavily as his jacket, weighing me to the grass.
If Danielle noticed anything off, she didn’t comment on it. “Did you tell her about the play?”
Another thing that I knew nothing about. For some reason, it hit me like a blow. Logan drew in a short breath, something in his eyes shuttering. Caught, they said. “It—hasn’t come up.”
“It’s, like, all you talk about,” Danielle said with a snort, turning to me.
“Our theater department is doing a limited run of Romeo and Juliet in a few weeks. We put it on last year, and it was such a fan favorite that the community practically bullied our teacher into putting it on again for homecoming week. You definitely should come.”
I smiled on instinct, but it was my cheerleader grin. Believable, realistic, but a mask. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” I said, but wasn’t sure if my voice sold it.
It’s, like, all you talk about. But Logan hadn’t mentioned an upcoming play to me once. Sure, he had talked about being in theater, but the fact that he was in a play coming up? If he was excited, wouldn’t that have been something he’d share with me?
Not if he thought you’d make fun of him.
And just like that, all of the wind evaporated from my sails.
“Well, we’ll have to plan something soon.” Danielle’s voice was still cheerful. “Logan, organize something, or I will.” She pointed at him threateningly.
Danielle walked away with a wave. I should’ve asked Logan if she had a little brother playing, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. He wrapped his arms back around me, but I felt stiff in the embrace.
On the field, Curtis was plowed down by the mountain of a boy, and Logan tucked me tightly against his chest as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “That was a rough one. He’ll feel that tomorrow.”
I stuck the slushy straw between my teeth and continued watching the game, but all excitement was gone.