Chapter 20
SELENA
The Tower Lake Women’s Soccer Team remains undefeated! Thanks to Jess and her last second heroics in stoppage time, our winning streak continues.
It’s why the team is in such a good mood, singing and dancing on the bus ride back to campus. I’m so tired though, I can barely keep my eyes open. Since that whole thing with Rhodes’ dad, I haven’t been able to sleep much.
“Are you Selena?” An older version of Grayson stood beside me. Salt-and-pepper hair, crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He was not as tall and definitely not as wide, but the resemblance was there. “I’m Grayson’s father, mind if I have a word with you.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Away from all this noise,” he added, pointing toward the vendors. When he smiled, he didn’t look like Grayson anymore.
“Um, sure.”
“Quién es?” Jess asked, eyeing him with suspicion.
“Grayson’s dad,” I whispered.
“You mean el suegro,” she laughed and I shoved her to be quiet. She and Letty giggled as I followed Grayson’s dad up beyond the stands.
Only a handful of people walked by up here. Most were busy watching the game.
“So…are you able to make it to many of Grayson’s games?” I asked after standing there in uncomfortable silence.
He ignored my question. “How long have you known my son?”
“Since freshman year,” I replied for simplicity’s sake.
The strange smile on his face vanished. “Whatever plans you have, this is as far as they go.”
“Plans?” What is he talking about?
“Let me be clear. I don’t care for you or any of your little friends.”
Surprised, I stepped back. “Dude, that’s fine.” If he wasn’t going to be respectful, then I wasn’t either. “You don’t have to care for me or my friends.”
Done with him and this conversation, I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.
“My son is meant for more than you, this school, or an irrelevant game.”
What the hell? Whatever he thought of me, I didn’t care, but his dismissal of the game Grayson loved, really bothered me for some reason.
“Grayson’s a great baseball player,” I argued, snatching my arm away from his bony grasp. “He’s an amazing pitcher. Did you know scouts are always trying to recruit him?”
It was true, Letty told me on the drive over.
“Listen, little girl,” he sneered, “stay away from my son. He’s only biding his time with you.”
“In that case, you have nothing to worry about,” I snapped.
Seriously, who the hell was this guy? I mean, he was definitely not the first to insult me.
I had heard some of these things all my life.
When you were from East Los, playing a tournament in an affluent neighborhood, the other parents and coaches looked at you like you were going to steal their soccer equipment or vandalize their field.
So, I did then what I’ve always done, brushed it off and forced a smile. There was no point in arguing with people like him. Instead, I flagged down the sports’ reporter for our school paper, the Daily Lion.
“Kyle, this is Grayson Rhodes’ father. He was telling me how much he enjoys watching his son play and how proud he is of all Grayson’s accomplished.” When I looked over, the man was appalled, furious. Good. “He said he’d love to be interviewed for the school paper!”
Grayson’s dad cleared his throat. “We can reschedule for another time,” he said. “For now, I must get going."
“It’ll take five minutes, Mr. Rhodes!” Kyle argued, always persistent for the sake of a story. “I can walk with you. Do you agree to being recorded? Great! Let’s get started. When did you first notice Grayson was a skilled ball player?”
Horrible man. I can’t even imagine the kinds of things Rhodes has heard throughout his life.
That’s the main reason I thought about texting, to check up on him. I mean, I had his number—he saved it on my phone. Drunk Asshole, he wrote, but I changed it to Passenger Princess.
I’ve been tempted to text him like a million times. But I haven’t. And I won’t. That’s not who we are. I did go over Gibson Place a couple of times this week, thinking he’d rather talk in person, but he’s never home.
Now, I’m left wondering, how this happened? When?! I was fine, happily hating him just two weeks ago! But now? Now I’m worried about him?
And it has nothing to do with him kissing me. It was a tiny, little peck, and I’m sure it was to shut me up.
Anyway, those pictures Grayson mentioned about us? They’re much worse and they’re everywhere. His dad must have seen them too.
Pictures and videos and newspaper articles. About us. Him and me. Online and in print. The student section in the Daily Lion is bad.
Most of the images are of me sitting on his lap, wearing his hoodie, which at the time I didn’t know had his last name on the back.
His hands are always on me—my waist, my back, my hair—but the worst thing is I look so into him.
Like I’m head over heels in love with the guy.
It’s so embarrassing. Not that I would feel that way about another person but that I would feel that way about him knowing how he feels about me.
Frustrated with myself, I toss my phone into my bag and decide to sleep the long ride back to campus. Except...Jess comes to sit next to me. She’s watching me and I’m pretending I don’t notice because I’m pretty sure she wants to talk about one thing: Grayson Rhodes.
That look in her eye? It’s like she knows something. That’s how she was two weeks too.
After I drove his car to Gibson Place, I went home. Jess pounced the moment I walked in the door.
“So?”
“So what?”
“You were making out with Grayson Rhodes! I thought we hated him?!”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Mentirosa!”
“I’m not lying,” I argued.
“Well, I have lots of instagram posts and the school’s gossip page that say otherwise.”
I flopped down on the couch and that’s when I realized I was still wearing his hoodie.
Which I wore to his game, just to see that annoyed look. But, his dad ruined the moment.
“You fucked him?!” Jess cried. “Oh my god, Selena, how was it? You okay, not too sore?“
“What? No! Why would you think that?”
“You’re wearing his hoodie.” She smirked, sitting down next to me. “Aaaaand…” she leaned in to sniff my shoulder, “you smell like sex.”
I did not smell like sex, but I did smell like him. Maybe he smells like sex—pheromones or something—and that’s why all the girls want him. That and he’s tall and not bad looking and I bet amazing in bed. So good, in fact, he could probably teach anyone how to be good too ...
“Selena!”
I blink at Jess. I have no idea what she was saying.
“Sorry.”
“Did you text?” Jess asks me. She keeps her voice down and I’m grateful. This is a small bus. Any louder and everyone will hear everything.
“No.”
“Just ask him.” She leans closer to me and whispers, “And while you’re at it, pregúntale if he’s down for some spicy lessons.”
“Dude, no,” I swat her arm, chuckling to keep from blushing. “Can you not?”
“Fine,” she rolls her eyes.
I know she’s only teasing, but it’s kind of embarrassing.
It never bothered me before that I’m a virgin, but since I decided I didn’t want to be one anymore, I’ve noticed I’m basically the only one around.
Everyone on this bus is always talking about their sexual partners or various conquests.
It’s just me who has nothing to contribute to these conversations.
“Hey, I was kidding,” Jess gives me a sympathetic look, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “But only because it would be hilariously crazy if your life turned out like Chasing Dreams.”
In the book Chasing Dreams, Reginald and Irene are a star quarterback and the new team photographer, respectively.
They’re strangers at the beginning of the book, but after being in close proximity during the regular season, by the time it’s playoffs, they’re catching feelings and have a one night stand where she ends up pregnant!
“I think you might have the wrong book.”
Jess is looking out the window and suddenly snaps her fingers. “My bad, I meant Crushing Dreams!”
“Oh my god,” someone yells, “I love that book!”
Emily, our goalie, leans over the back of her seat in front of us to stare at Jess and me. “If that’s the small town, opposites attract, she’s-a-virgin-and-he-teaches-her-about-sex, then it’s the best book ever!!”
“That’s the one!” Jess nods, then winks. “It has spicy lessons!” She leans in close again. “He already had you sitting on his lap, driving his car, and he saved his number in your phone.”
Something in my stomach flutters. Maybe I’m hungry. All I ate was a granola bar.
“Jessica,” I sigh, looking for snacks in my backpack, “you know it wasn’t like that.”
“What wasn’t like what?” Samantha, our center defender, pokes her head over the backseat from the row behind us.
Everyone knows Samantha cannot be trusted with any information you don’t want getting out, which is why I shove Jess’s leg with my own. Before I can change the subject, Lucia, the freshman midfielder, pipes up from the seat across the aisle.
“Are you guys talking about Grayson Rhodes?“
At the sound of his name, the back of my neck feels warm. With my most convincing smile, I look Lucia dead in the eye, and answer, “Nope, not at all.”
For someone who doesn’t like to lie, I’m getting pretty good at it. Jess is looking down at her phone, but I can see her trying to hide a smile. Samantha’s leaning over the seat, practically on top of us.
“Yeah what’s up with that, Selena? We’ve all seen the pictures! Haven’t we girls?” she asks everyone on the bus. Great.
I know I’m blushing. It can’t be helped, not when they’re all looking at me.
“Nothing’s up. He was drunk,” I explain. “That’s all.”
That’s not what happened, but I don’t know his situation with Lila Jane and I don’t want to get him in trouble. It’s why I don’t mention anything about that.
“It definitely didn’t look like nothing.”
“Weren’t you wearing his hoodie a few nights ago?”
“You guys fuck yet?!”
“Are you going to the Gamma party with him?”
I make a face at Jess, who mouths, “Wasn’t me.”