Jameson
“We’re playing Big Bend tonight. And I know”—Coach looks around at all of us before we’re even allowed to stand on the bus—“it’s a rivalry. I know you’re all amped-up and ready.”
“Yeah!” someone shouts, and I cringe because that’s not what Coach wants right now.
His gaze snaps to the poor bastard. I think it’s Dillon Williams. “But you need to keep your heads in the game. No fights. Stay cool and calm. Calculated. No trash-talk.”
Each sentence is fired at us carefully with stern directness that says don’t fuck this up. We all agree, and he orders us to get our asses off the bus, which we do. Heading for the field, we pull on our helmets and get ready for the game to start.
Football isn’t my life, like it is for some of these guys. But there’s something about being on this field, looking our opponents in the eyes, and standing side by side with my teammates. There’s a calmness to it, a comradery. We’re a unit—a team—with one goal, and nothing else matters.
And it’s beautiful.
By the second half, my calves are burning, my chest is pumping with adrenaline, and we’re on fire. The game is close, far too close. But I feel it in my bones. We’ve got this. That is, until someone shoves one of our guys, and then a Panther shoves back.
God. Damn. It.
I see Dixon and Oakley in the middle of the chaos, shoving and rolling around with the other team. The referees and coaches are on the field, trying to pull everyone apart, and I stand there and watch, completely annoyed.
I never understood the bullshit draw of fighting on the field. When I’m out here, I just want to play. Dixon is pushed off to the sidelines, told to cool off, and we end up with the penalty instead of the other side receiving it.
Stupid.
So damn stupid.
The crowd is roaring and booing. But I know they love it. It’s excitement. Excitement this town doesn’t have much of.
We barely pull out a win, and the other team is salty as fuck as they storm off the field. Coach isn’t happy with the win because of the fight and barely says anything when we get back to the locker room to shower and change.
Dixon and Oakley are living it up though. So damn proud of themselves. Most of the team is excited too. I’m happy we won, but it’s short-lived when I notice Trav changed at lightning speed, skipping the shower, and is already heading for the door.
I doubt he’ll be at the party tonight.
He rarely went to any even before our incident and hasn’t been to many since. I miss my friend. And when Oakley snaps a towel at Dixon’s ass, making him howl, I glare at Garrison, pissed-off and blaming him.
His eyes catch mine for a brief moment with surprise in them, as if he wonders why he’s caught my wrath, but he should know. He knows.
I shower and change, heading out to my car and being a total dumbass, driving out to Oakley’s because what else is there to do on a Friday night.
I don’t want to think about how Travis won’t talk to me anymore.
I don’t want to think about being eighteen and it being our senior year.
How we’re in our last high-school football season.
All I want is to get drunk and forget. And of course, it being a small town, it’s not hard to get alcohol.
Everyone has a fake ID or an older sibling who just doesn’t care.
When I get out to the vacant land where most of our parties are held, there’s already a fire roaring in the middle of a circle of old logs someone long before us pushed together.
Trucks and cars are parked everywhere, and someone has their radio blasting country music as loud as they can.
Someone hands me a beer, and I take it, opening the can and taking a big swig. I see Oakley and Dixon pull up in Oakley’s old-as-shit rust-bucket truck he loves so damn much and hop out, both carrying twelve-packs of beer in each hand.
I finish off my beer and grab another one as they all settle around the fire, and I sit on the tailgate of my truck, not really wanting to be around anyone but not wanting to be alone either.
But the universe hates me, and soon a very drunk Kennedy Reeves climbs up on the tailgate next to me, nearly falling on her ass twice as she tries to get settled, a bottle of some hard liquor in her hand. “Well, if it isn’t Jameson Bates,” she slurs.
“What are you doing here, Kennedy? Didn’t you graduate last year?” She dated Kingston Wells during most of high school. But they had a messy breakup last year. Still, I don’t know what the hell she’s doing here.
“I still have friends here, asshole,” she snaps, which is not really that surprising. No one ever really leaves this town, and everyone pretty much hangs out with each other. Still, I don’t want to deal with her dramatic ex-cheerleader ass.
“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you go find them?”
“You’re such an asshole,” she says, taking a big drink of the bottle in her hand. “You looked lonely. And I know lonely, so I thought I’d be nice and come over here and talk to you.”
I roll my eyes, taking a drink of my beer. Something about Kennedy has always gotten under my skin. It’s all about her. Maybe that’s why I can’t stand Dixon either. The I’m more important than everyone else bullshit really gets on my nerves.
Maybe she’ll date him next, and they can become an epically annoying, egotistical couple. “I’m not lonely.”
“Well, I am.” See? All about her. She leans her head on my shoulder. “My boyfriend is probably off fucking his bestie right now. Just left me behind.”
My brow furrows as I look at her, her head still on my shoulder. “What the hell are you talking about? What boyfriend?”
She huffs, pulling her head off my shoulder and glaring at me. “Kingston! Duh.”
“Kingston and you broke up last year, and what do you mean he’s fucking his bestie?” What the hell is she talking about?
She rolls her eyes dramatically at me, tossing her long, blonde hair with one hand and sloshing the bottle in her other hand.
“You know what? It doesn’t even matter anymore.
I’m so sick of the secret. I’m not in high school anymore.
I’m stuck in this godforsaken town, working at the tavern, and living with my parents. And he’s off, fucking Camden.”
My jaw drops. My eyes narrow as I glare at her. Camden and Kingston are best friends and have been for a long damn time. They were a power duo on the team. The stars. Gods around here. “What the fuck are you talking about?” My voice goes low.
“You heard me. I saw them.”
“Saw who?” My stomach twists, her words feeling like venom has been shot into my veins.
“Camden and Kingston—I saw them fooling around.” I start to feel dizzy, placing my beer next to me as I turn to look at her.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Kennedy?”
“LeAnn told me I shouldn’t say anything, and I figured she was right.
” LeAnn is her best friend, who also happens to be Coach’s daughter.
She’s a cool chick and someone I actually miss from that class.
She got out though. Went to college. “I mean, I didn’t want the whole school blaming me for turning their god gay. ”
My stomach lurches, and I feel like I might actually puke but hold it together. “Shut the fuck up, Kennedy.”
Her eyes widen, and she looks shocked that I’d say that to her, but spreading rumors like that around here—even if Kingston and Camden aren’t here anymore—is dangerous. “I’m telling the truth. Don’t blame me, asshole. I didn’t make him gay.”
Her voice is too loud, and I feel eyes shifting our way. I hop down off the tailgate and offer my hand to her. She takes it, unsure, but she still comes with me as I pull her away from the group. “Shut. Up.”
She jerks her hand away from mine. “Don’t talk to me that way. It’s not my fault.”
I roll my eyes, trying to count to ten in my head. “Of course, you didn’t make him gay. That’s fucking stupid. It’s a stupid thing to say and think. But shut the fuck up. Your dumbass rumors could ruin him.”
“They should. And they aren’t rumors. They’re gay together! I know what I saw!” she shouts, and then of fucking course, I hear footsteps and know before I even see him that Dixon is out here with us, watching and listening.
“What’s going on?” he asks, and my eyes darken in his direction.
Tonight just gets better and better.