Faking for Now (Frost Lake High #3)

Chapter One Rowan

Chapter One

Rowan

“It’s a beautiful day to play some soccer, boys.” Our captain, Vaughn, is all smiles as he tosses out blue scrimmage jerseys.

“It’s like a thousand degrees out here,” Eli mutters as he adjusts a hat on his head like he’s attempting to shield himself from the sun, high in the sky, hitting him. “Can’t we just take our shirts off instead of adding layers?”

“Nobody wants to see your six-pack.” His twin, Eddie, rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that hot,” Austin corrects him. “When we visited my grandparents in Arizona last week, it was 118 degrees.”

“That’s not right.” Eli shakes his head and then grimaces as he pulls the jersey down over his T-shirt.

The chatter from my teammates is a welcome change from the past few weeks. I love summer vacation as much as the next person, but with everyone doing family shit, traveling out of town, or working summer jobs, I barely saw some of these guys. And I guess I missed them.

Vaughn, for instance, spent his summer in Ireland. The twins spent all of June at their lake house; Hunter worked at the golf course, cleaning clubs and washing carts; and Blake had to babysit his three younger siblings.

And me, well, I mostly sat around waiting for people to be available to hang out. It sounds more desperate than it was. Nearly every day someone was up for kicking the ball around or grabbing lunch, and there were parties nearly every night. But it’s good to have everyone back together.

Soccer practice doesn’t start until next week, but today we’re doing our annual scrimmage against the girls’ team.

It’s mostly fun. No spectators aside from the coaches, who are here in an unofficial capacity to give us access to the field.

Tryouts for the freshmen and new students are done, and our team is set. Now we get to see how we play together.

Vaughn’s dad, Coach Collins, sits on the bleachers.

Dark sunglasses shield his eyes. He looks almost bored, but I bet he’ll be watching carefully to see what we look like after months off and with a new group of guys.

We lost a few starters to graduation and added two freshmen and a sophomore transfer.

The overall mood today is light and fun, but after losing last season so close to the state title, there is an air of excitement and anticipation too.

Senior year. This is it.

I take my jersey, pull it on over my T-shirt, and head onto the field to warm up. The girls are on the far side, doing the same.

Vaughn falls into step beside me as I start a light jog toward the goal line. He’s only been back from Ireland a week, and he’s spent most of that time with his girlfriend, Lacey.

“You ready for this?” he asks with the sort of grandiose enthusiasm that only Vaughn could pull off over a scrimmage game.

I’ve never known anyone who loves soccer as much as he does.

I guess it’s what happens when you’re born into soccer royalty.

His dad, Coach Collins, was one of the best to ever play the game.

He has records and trophies highlighting a career I can’t even fathom.

I never aspired to be that type of player.

I love the game and enjoy playing it more than just about anything else, but it’s always been just a game to me.

I appreciate the difference and what that means for my future.

I won’t be selling out arenas filled with screaming soccer fans, not like Coach C did and not like Vaughn most definitely will.

“Yeah, of course,” I say, letting some of his excitement bleed into my own. Maybe I’m not meant for great things, but I can’t think of a better way to spend a sunny afternoon than out here on the soccer field.

His lips pull into a half smile. “Did you touch a soccer ball this summer?”

I shove at his shoulder playfully, but he bulked up over the past two months and barely budges until I put a little weight behind it. “Hell yeah, I did. Every morning, I woke up and the first thing I did was get in three hours of drills and conditioning.”

The other side of his mouth lifts and he gives me an expression that calls bullshit even before he says, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

I most definitely didn’t train for three hours. Or any hours, really.

“Don’t worry about me, Cap. I spent my summer relaxing and recharging.”

“You mean slacking and partying?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

He lets out a deep chuckle.

Austin falls in on my other side. He’s smiling so big you’d think we were about to play a title game.

He comes the closest of anyone else I know to matching Vaughn’s love of soccer.

It’s hard to believe these two are my best friends in the world.

They’re all drive and determination, and I’m more of a take-things-as-they-come sort of guy.

I like to think I balance out their ambition.

“How do we do this?” Austin asks as he surveys the field.

I forget that he wasn’t here for the previous scrimmages. His family moved to Frost Lake just before school started last year. It feels like he’s been part of the team, and my friend, for much longer.

“Twenty-minute halves, no goalkeepers, no offsides, no slides, and no three-point touching,” Vaughn rattles off our scrimmage rules. “If you score, you sub out for a minimum of two minutes.”

“For real?” Austin asks, clearly not liking that rule.

“It’s supposed to be fun,” I say. “We want to make sure everyone plays as much as possible, and it keeps Vaughn from destroying them.”

Which he could, easily. Probably without any of our help.

“And no referees,” Vaughn adds. “We call our own fouls. The coaches will jump in to make any final calls if needed, but it’s lax.”

“Awesome. I’m ready to do this.” Austin’s steps have an extra bounce.

“Don’t go too hard. We don’t want to beat them so badly they’re all pissed about it,” Eddie says, having overheard us as he and Hunter join our warm-up jog.

“Yeah, no kidding. Two years ago, we kept them to one goal and the after-party was a major bummer.” Hunter shakes his head, and his eyes widen as if he’s remembering it.

“You’re still pissed that Penny turned you down that night.” Eddie’s shoulders shake as he laughs at his friend.

All I remember from that night is playing truth or dare with Amanda. My gaze drifts down to where said ex-girlfriend is standing, one leg pulled up behind her in a hamstring stretch.

Ex-girlfriend might be too definitive a label for what we were. We talked, we hung out, we hooked up. She’s cool and we had fun. I thought maybe we could date for real, be a couple and all that like Vaughn and Lacey or Austin and Claire, but then Amanda found someone else.

I haven’t seen her since the beginning of summer when I ran into her at one of Boone’s parties.

Rumor has it that she’s single again, and I was certain we’d start things back up and I’d have another shot, but then she left town with her family for vacation and never texted when she got back.

I wonder why. Maybe we’re done for good this time?

The idea has a pit forming in my stomach. I’m not sure why that is either.

As we get closer, she glances up. When she spots me among the group of guys, a slow smile spreads across her face. She lets her leg drop out of the stretch and starts toward me.

“Are you two talking again?” Austin asks me.

“Nah,” I say at the same time Eddie says, “Not yet.”

They keep mouthing off about the likelihood of me and Amanda resuming our…whatever we are, but I stop listening and jog away from them.

Amanda meets me halfway between our collective groups.

“Hey.” Her voice carries a hint of hesitation as we stop a foot apart from each other. Her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her skin is a golden tan from the summer sun. She looks good.

As soon as I hit her with a smile, her shoulders relax, almost like she wasn’t sure where we stood with each other either.

“Hey, beautiful.” The endearment slips out. There’s an ease between us. Perhaps it’s because of our history, or maybe it’s just part of the connection we share. I’ve never dissected it that carefully, to be honest. We just click.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders for a quick hug. Her body is stiff at first, then slowly melts into me.

“Hey, Blakenship. How was the rest of your summer?” she asks when we break apart.

“Good. Yours?”

“Mine was good too.”

“Great.”

We stare, bob our heads in unison. Forget what I said, the usual ease between us is cloaked in an unfamiliar awkwardness.

“Hot out today,” I say finally to break the tension and then inwardly groan.

“Yeah.” Her responding chuckle is strained.

Dear god, this is painful. It’s like listening to my parents make small talk about the weather with business acquaintances. Fake, forced, and uncomfortable.

“Are we good?” I ask, hoping to squash whatever weirdness is going on.

“Yeah.” She shakes off more of her discomfort. “Of course. I wasn’t sure. After everything that happened with me and…”

Her voice trails off and I find myself wondering how she’d end that sentence. Instead, she smiles and says, “We’re good. I missed you.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Are you going to the twins’ house tonight?”

It’s tradition for us to have a small get-together with the girls after the scrimmage. I’ve never missed it. To be fair, I rarely miss any party.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” she says. Neither of us moves, but a little of that awkwardness creeps back in. I hate it. No matter what happened in the past, I don’t ever want there to be tension between us.

In the absence of anything else to say, I find myself scanning the rest of the girls’ team. I’ve come to be friendly with most of them as an extension of Amanda and spending time with her, and because the boys’ and girls’ teams often share space and sometimes even travel to games together.

“How’s the team looking this year?” I ask.