Chapter 8 #2
Blaise grits his teeth and takes a deep breath like he’s trying not to rip her head off. Thank God Ash isn’t here to see it. “No. I told her I wasn’t interested, and she wrapped herself around me and started kissing my neck. I told her to get off of me and she refused.”
She frowns at him, her anger softening. “How is that a lapse in judgment? You made it sound like you caved.”
“I didn’t shove her the fuck off me. She kept talking about shit we’ve done together, and I felt bad for her. I forgot that she’s a manipulative bitch. If I hadn’t heard you scream, I would’ve just stood there like an idiot.” He groans again and Avery shoots me a look.
“I’ll have her sorted by the time we get back from spring break. Let’s get a move on and meet the others.”
Ash and Harley are waiting for us on the bleachers.
They both eye Blaise with something close to hostility until Avery snaps at them and tells them about Annabelle.
Blaise looks ashamed for about three seconds before Ash’s smirk pisses him off enough to snark back at him.
I sit between Avery and Harley, and Blaise sits on the end with Ash.
Harley hands me a hot dog, and I look at his shoulder to choke out a thank you.
His eyes are too intense for me after the day I’ve had.
Avery is watching me now, too.
She hasn’t said a word about my confession.
But she still tucked her arm into mine as we walked here, and she teased me with Blaise about my utter ignorance of all things football.
I’m not sure if that means she’s cool with me or if she’s waiting until we get back to our room before she kicks me out of her life.
I tell myself I’ll live either way.
I’m lying.
Well, not lying. I’d survive it. I survive everything; I’m like a damn cockroach. But it would suck and probably hurt worse than having my leg smashed to pieces, so I’m really hoping that squeal she let out in the library was a good one.
“We’re not going to have to sit through the whole thing, are we?
” Avery gripes. She’s cringing at Harley and I as we eat our hot dogs.
Ash looks absolutely disgusted at us both, and Blaise is too busy trying to fight the breeze to light a blunt to notice what we’re doing.
I frown at him and Harley nudges me gently.
“Relax. No one here gives a shit, Mounty.”
Whatever.
I don’t want to be a stick in the mud, but I watched my mother use every single drug she could get her hands on, and it made me deeply, intensely wary of any type of high that isn’t liquor. I shrug and look out over the crowd.
The stands are awash with the deep blood-red and charcoal gray of Hannaford’s colors.
The away team is another private school from a city three hours away, so their crowd is much smaller and far less festive.
The cheerleaders from both schools are busy flipping, twirling, dancing, and shaking.
The uniforms look like they were stolen from a porn set, and I can pick out the dirty old men that would happily risk a lengthy jail sentence to lift those skirts. I shudder and look away.
Avery is still cursing Harley’s name, and Ash tucks her under his arm to keep her warm and safe.
The crowd is on the rowdy side, and Harley’s massive frame is the only thing stopping me from being jostled around.
He turns to glare at the guys behind us and when they get a good look at who they’re bumping into, they settle the fuck down.
“We’ll be gone by half time, Floss. Just get a hot dog and enjoy the show.”
He waves his food in her face and she gags dramatically. Blaise hands the blunt to Ash and after he takes a drag, he offers it to Harley. He hesitates and then waves them off.
I grumble at him, “Don’t turn it down because I don’t like it.”
He shoves the last of the hot dog into his mouth and grabs the uneaten half of my hot dog I’ve abandoned on my lap thanks to my nervous stomach. With a quirked eyebrow, he says, “I want to remember every second of this, so I need a clear head.”
Of course. Why would he do anything for me? My face heats, and I nod as the players march out onto the field. Blaise starts critiquing their movements like he knows something about what's going on, and Ash ignores everyone for his phone. Avery reads his texts and they murmur to each other quietly.
I try to keep my eyes on the field but three minutes in, I want to throw myself headfirst onto the concrete beneath the bleachers to get out of this torture.
Instead, I discreetly watch Harley as he fixates on the game.
He’s wearing his uniform, a Hannaford requirement to attend the game, but he’s taken his tie off and put a coat on.
I can tell it’s one Avery’s bought for him because it’s perfectly tailored to fit his broad shoulders.
He’s still wearing his mother’s necklace, but he swapped the gold chain for a thin leather rope.
He notices me looking and says, “One of the seniors tried to get it back for Joey during a fight. The leather won’t break like the chain did.”
I scowl and cross my arms, shivering in the cold night air with only a skirt on. “I hope you made him bleed.”
Harley shrugs his coat off and drapes it to cover Avery’s bare legs, and then he tucks the other end around my thighs to cover me as well.
I thank him quietly and he shrugs without looking away from the game.
Ash watches him and shakes his head at me like I’m to blame for his kindness.
Avery nudges him and draws his attention back to his phone.
“Fuck, Aves, this is it.”
I look up just in time to see a Hannaford player go down hard while three defenders pile on top of him.
It just looks like a tackle to me, but Blaise curses under his breath and the crowd falls silent.
Harley’s eyes are fixed on Rory’s prone form, greedily drinking in the scene as the coaching team and medics race out onto the field.
Blaise whistles and murmurs, “He’ll be lucky to walk again.”
Harley chuckles and leans in to whisper to me, “I paid enough to make sure he won’t.”
Avery tucks her arm into mine and gives me her trademark smug smile, one that I return easily, and something eases in my chest, like I can breathe again.
Rory never returns to Hannaford Prep.