5. Jamie
“I should have spent moretime running this summer,” Bailey groaned as we finished our five-mile run.
The parties were over, and we’d begun our second week of cross-country practice. I hated every minute. I was good at it, but I hated it. The only good thing? Bailey ran, too.
We passed the football practice field, and my pulse gave a little jump. I’d probably enjoy cross-country more if I liked football a little less.
“You don’t still have a thing for Allie, do you?” Bailey followed my gaze to the field, her voice full of judgment I didn’t need.
“What?” That was out of the blue.
Bailey backed up a fraction.
“Sorry.” That had come out more defensive than I intended. I clenched my jaw.
Bailey’s lips pinched together. She stopped, and we both began to stretch.
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business, anyway.”
It wasn’t. But that didn’t give me the right to bite her head off. I didn’t even know what I was all upset about. No, that was a lie.
“What made you say that?” What signal had I given that I still had a thing for Allie Brown?
The girl was straight up in love with the biggest deal to come out of our school—ever. And he loved her back. I had absolutely no chance with her—at all. I’d come to terms with it. I’d also decided relationships were overrated. Who needed the angst and drama and broken hearts? Not me.
I knew better now. Hadn’t I had a front-row seat to my ownmother’s broken heart after my dad died? Why would I ever voluntarily put myself through that? So, I didn’t and the NCMO King was born.
Bailey shrugged, her eyes lowered to the ground. “I don’t know. Just the look in your eye when you were watching the field.”
That explained it. Bailey thought the longing on my face had been for the girl, not the game. Chuckling, I had to laugh at myself. It was bad if my best friend in the entire world couldn’t tell the difference between me missing a sport and being in love with a girl.
“What’s so funny?”
We dropped to the ground and continued our stretches.
“Me. I wasn’t looking at Allie.”
Bailey frowned, her eyes drifting to scan the football field. Allie was the only girl over there. Even the cheerleaders, who sometimes practiced in the morning when it was cooler outside, had gone.
“She’s the only girl over there, Barnes, so unless there’s something you aren’t telling me,” the words trailed off, her implication clear.
“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t bat for my ownteam.
Bailey grinned at that. “Yeah, I know. So, what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just pissed, I guess. You know I hate running. Just wishing I could be out there.” I lifted my chin in the direction of the field.
Understanding washed over her. She knew all about my love affair with football. And why I didn’t play.
We stretched in silence for a few long minutes. Bailey’s brows rode low on her forehead as the gears in her head turned.
“I get it, Jamie. I really do.” She turned her head to face me. “But I still think it’s stupid.”
“What am I supposed to do? Defy my mother?” I would not do that. I would have done it a long time ago if I was going to.
“Heads up!”
Bailey and I both ducked as a football flew over our heads. It landed in the grass a few yards away. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed it.
“Sorry!” James Snow, the field goal kicker, called out. He held out his hands, inviting me to throw him the ball.
Cocking back my arm and planting my feet, I threw him a perfect spiral.
James caught it, a look of surprise on his face when it landed right in his arms with no effort on his part.
“Nice throw!” he shouted before jogging back onto the field.
I nodded, unreasonably pleased with myself for completing an easy pass, before going back to stretching.
“What?” I sighed, feeling Bailey’s gaze.
“You’re good. You haven’t played since middle school, and you’ve somehow gotten better.”
My heart and ego swelled with her praise. “Dallin and I throw around all the time,” I responded as if she didn’t already know.
Bailey studied the football field as she stretched her hamstrings. I gave up on stretching, choosing instead to lay back in the grass and pout.
“They need a quarterback.”
I hated the tiny spark of hope her words ignited. Hope had no place in my heart where football was concerned, and Bailey knew it.
“Just stop.” There was no way I was going to play football again. “I haven’t played in three years, anyway. They need someone who knows the system already. I’m sure they’ll work with someone already on the team.”
Bailey snorted. She was as football literate as either Dallin or I. We’d made sure of it.
“Who? Justin? Even if he could throw, he needs another twenty-five pounds, at least, to not get killed.”
There was some truth to that. We were in a competitive conference. I knew two guys who’d moved out of our school district because of Connor. They knew they’d get no playing time as long as he was there. And while coaches couldn’t actively recruit, no one would stop a kid from moving into their boundaries. Both were starters for their respective teams and were both good. It wasn’t going to be an easy season, even with Seth. Without him? Well, we were screwed.
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to play. If I kept telling myself that, the spark of hope might extinguish itself for good.