10. Calvin
CHAPTER TEN
calvin
So I guess we’re friends . . .
I don’t know how or why I let this happen, all I know is when I saw him hit the ground like he did on Monday at practice, I had never felt fear like that before.
It makes no sense. I don’t know him. But I know I wanted more than anything for him to be okay.
And he just won’t stop. I’ve never known anyone like him before.
Someone so free and open. Someone who seems to trust so easily and care so deeply for a total stranger.
I’d probably think he was a weirdo or something—like unnaturally obsessed with me for whatever reason—but I’ve watched him around school. He’s nice to everyone.
Some rowdy guys knocked books out of the hand of some girl last week and just kept on going, but Jonah couldn’t. He stopped and helped her, then walked her to class, all while chatting away with her.
The guy makes no sense.
But I’ve spent every evening at his house this week so far, and it seems like the whole family might be that way. I’ve stayed for dinner, sitting with Jonah’s nieces, brother, and sister-in-law. They’re all so nice.
The conversation is—different from what I’m used to. I don’t really know how to describe it, but it’s like Coach and his wife truly care about what their daughters want out of life. Jonah too.
They don’t push them, but they ask questions. Both girls are so young, but they talk so freely. I’m still getting used to it.
“You coming over?” Jonah asks as we walk out to the parking lot after practice. I realize I want so badly to say yes, but the conversation I had with my mother before I left for school today is still ringing in my ears.
She not so subtly let on that she’s annoyed that I haven’t been home for dinner at all this week. And the last thing I need is anyone asking questions at home.
“I can’t.”
Jonah stops walking, his eyes darting around the parking lot, like he’s looking to check if we’re alone—we are.
We stayed to help clean up the locker room and already assessed the parking lot as soon as we got through the doors.
“Why not?” He’s hesitant, not aggressive.
Just curious, but there’s a hint of worry.
Like I’m going to push him away, and honestly, I could. Any day now. I can see myself freaking about hanging out with him. Especially after he told me that he’s . . . I can’t even think about it.
“My mom is making dinner and is . . .” I don’t know why I don’t want him to know that I can’t have her asking questions. I mean, I’m sure he knows why. He knows I’m terrified of . . . so many things. I can’t even say the word. I can’t allow myself to think too hard about it.
“She wants you home tonight,” he says simply.
I let out a relieved puff of air. He seems to be hellbent on letting me off the hook, and like the coward I am, I let him. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t ask me any more questions than that. Just accepts it. “And tomorrow is our first game.”
I nod, a little rush of excitement running through me because I really do love the game itself—just not the people I play it with. “Yeah.”
He gives me a quick little mischievous grin. “You planning to go out after the game?”
I shrug—that’s usually the expectation. From my parents. From other people at school. I used to go to every party, especially during football season. I was one of the kings of this team—but it all changed last year. And I haven’t been back since my royal fuckup.
“I doubt it.” I start walking again toward our trucks, and Jonah keeps up with me.
“What about you?” I try to sound as casual as I can—but the thought of him going to those parties .
. . I don’t really know how I feel about that.
Worried about him being there by himself, even though I know he can handle it.
He’s strong, there’s no doubt about that.
Shields and Adler have taken to teasing him more and more, but he just lets it slide right off him. I actually can’t tell if it bothers him at all.
“I don’t know,” he says casually. “Maybe I can talk you into going with me.” He shoots me a wink, and dear God, I’m glad I’m near my truck so I have something to lean on when my knees start to buckle.
Jesus fucking Christ, I need to get it together. I am not this fainting, swooning guy. It’s ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous, but something about that gesture—those golden eyes twinkling so playfully toward me . . .
It does something to me.
“Yeah, not happening,” I say, but honestly, it’s almost hard for me to get it out. Denying him anything doesn’t seem to be my strong suit anymore, and we just met. I hate to think about what he could get me to agree to if we spend much more time together.
Which is why I need to push him away. Why I’m certain I will because this cannot happen. I can’t give in to him. Even if all he wants to do is be my friend, I can’t.
“Why not?” he asks, unbothered as he opens his driver’s side door but doesn’t climb in.
“I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but I’m not exactly popular around here.” I leave off saying more because I don’t want him to ask me why that is. I don’t trust myself not to tell him.
He shrugs. “So we’ll go and have fun together. You’re pretty popular with me.” He doesn’t wink this time, but he does make his eyebrows dance in a joking manner. But the way he says it also tells me he isn’t joking.
“I can’t go to one of those parties,” I say, dropping my voice low and actually having a hard time with the slight disappointment I see on his face. I don’t like that at all.
But he recovers quickly. “Okay. So how about you come over after the game and we hang out? You could even stay the night if you want to.”
My throat goes instantly dry, and I’m sure my face shows just how freaked out that suggestion makes me. He wants me to stay the night? With him? And he’s . . .
And I’m . . .
Nope. No. Can’t and won’t go there. I’m shaking my head so much, I barely even notice that he’s walked away from his door to stand right in front of me, carefully placing a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You can say no to anything. I won’t be upset.”
My heart races, and a cold sweat moves over me. I hate being like this. I try to swallow, but it physically hurts because my throat is so dry. I open my mouth to speak, but he gives his head a little shake and my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“I just meant it’ll probably be pretty late, and we can definitely get lost playing Fortnite.” I smile at that and don’t miss the relief on his face.
“Uh, yeah . . . but I’ve seen your bed. No way we’re both fitting in there.” And honestly, I should not have said that because now I’m thinking about us sharing a bed and . . . nope.
He laughs. “Well, we could sleep in the living room. Play on the PlayStation 5 with the big TV. The couches are really comfortable too. I’ve slept there a few times myself after playing so late I couldn’t get my lazy ass to go the few feet to my room.”
I smile, thinking about how into the game he gets. “Okay.” I think it shocks us both stupid, and we just kind of stare at each other for a moment before he gives me the world’s largest smile.
“Cool. I’ll tell Jenna you’ll be staying tomorrow. I bet she’ll go over-the-top with snacks.”
“Oh, she doesn’t have to go to any trouble . . .” He stares at me silently, telling me to shut up, and I laugh. “But she will.”
He nods with a grin. “She will. She’ll be excited. See you tomorrow?”
I nod. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
He drops his hand from my shoulder, and goddammit, I miss it. He walks to his truck and climbs inside, giving me a quick wave before starting it up. I do the same and then make the drive home, dread sitting deep in my gut.
Dread that’s always there after school, at least it has been, except for this week when I’ve gone home with Jonah. I know they’re going to ask questions about where I’ve been though.
And they can know everything that goes on in this town, if they want to. So there’s really no point in lying to them. Fuck my life.
I park on the street in front of my house and then force myself to go inside, seeing Curtis first. He of course has to put me in a headlock and mess up my hair because he finds it hilarious to greet me that way.
I don’t push him away, though, because that would only lead to a fight that I don’t have the energy for and then a lecture from at least one parent about how I need to show respect to my big brother. Yeah, no thanks.
Finally, he releases me, and we head into the dining room, both of us taking our seats.
We eat pretty early, so as soon as practice is over, my mom has everything on the table.
My dad, grandfather, and Curtis wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work.
My grandfather isn’t as hands-on at the rig as he used to be, but that doesn’t mean he misses a day of work.
“There you are, boy,” my grandfather says, his face wrinkled with time, mostly time out in the hot sun, but he still looks a little younger than his seventy years.
“Hi,” I say dumbly, knowing it won’t end the conversation. I can see it on his face. The irritation.
“Your mom made some pretty good meals this week. Damn fine.”
“I’m sorry I missed them,” I say and then look at my mother as she takes the seat next to me. “I’m sorry. I should have let you know I wouldn’t be home for dinner.”
“Oh, it’s okay, sweetie,” she says, brushing it off as she hands the bowl of mashed potatoes to Curtis, who takes them, piling a heaping mound on his plate.
He takes a bite but doesn’t even wait to swallow before he looks at me. “Where were you anyway? You don’t have any friends.”
“Curtis,” Mom scolds, but there’s laughter in her voice. Her oldest can do no wrong.
I shrug. “Just hanging out with someone from school. He’s new.” I say it, taking the bowl of potatoes from him and scooping some out before handing it to my father.
My father eyes me suspiciously. “Who?”
All eyes are on me now as I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I could lie—but what’s the point. They probably already know. Probably heard it from a neighbor, who told their neighbor, who told one of them at the grocery store or some shit. That’s the way it works around here. “Jonah.”
“Jonah?” my mom says, tilting her head curiously as she passes a plate of fried chicken around. “I don’t know that name.”
“Well, he’s new,” I say but get a sharp look from my grandfather, and I shrink back. “Sorry.”
“Jonah Zimmerman?” my father asks.
“Uh, yeah.” I try to keep my tone light, like it’s no big deal. Please let us talk about anything else.
But of course, that’s not what happens. “Oh, is he nice? Is he on the team?” my mother asks because she really is a good mom who cares.
She’s wondered many times aloud over the past year why I’m always home and not with my friends.
Why I don’t have a girlfriend. Why I don’t go to parties after the game.
She asks a lot of questions, and since I don’t have any answers for her that I can say out loud, I just shrug it off. But she looks hopeful now, and I hate it.
“That new coach’s little brother he gave a spot to on the team,” my grandfather answers with disdain.
“He’s not that bad, Grandpa,” I try, but my voice is shaky. “Coach was right. He’s good, actually. He could take us to state.”
Which is something that seems to be oh, so important to them. My grandfather’s team went to state twice while he played, and my dad’s went three out of four years. Curtis’s went once. I’ve been once, but while Coach is very good, the transition has been a challenge.
I believe we’re on track for it this year too, but my grandfather doesn’t seem as thrilled as normal. “It’s bullshit nepotism is what it is.”
As if I didn’t already make the team before they even saw me play. Just the name Duke around here opens doors, but I wisely keep my mouth shut. My father grunts, “That fucking pussy. I don’t know why the hell they put him in charge in the first place.”
Curtis sneers, “He’s not even from here.”
I want to roll my eyes so hard right now, but I don’t. I keep control of my face. “He’s a good coach, and Jonah is a good quarterback.”
I may have controlled my face, but apparently not my mouth. My grandfather is glaring at me now. “And what have you and this boy been doing after practice?”
I know he’s always seen something in me—something different.
Something that pisses him off, but I’m not sure if he knows exactly what it is.
And still, I’m sweating bullets over that question.
I take a bite of mashed potatoes and swallow before taking a drink of water and then answering, “Mostly playing Fortnite, but we’re in a lot of the same classes, so we do homework too. ”
“Oh, well that’s nice you have a friend, sweetie,” my mom says, squeezing my shoulder.
“Aw, Calvin finally has a friend,” my brother taunts, but I don’t care because no one seems to pick up on anything else. Not that there’s anything else to pick up on, of course. But still, thankfully, the conversation moves toward Kensley football.
Their team has been shit since Little Bates and Zachary Olson graduated from high school, but apparently, they have a shot this year with Ty Easton as starting quarterback. He’s a sophomore and apparently, really damn good.
But he’s no Jonah Zimmerman.