Chapter 8
Hayes
17 years old
“Good job at practice today, Hayes,” Coach Smith says, clapping his hand on my shoulder as we walk to the locker room.
I give him a nod, wiping the sweat off of my head with my forearm.
It was a good practice. As a team, we’re working well together, and I’m the strongest I’ve ever been as an individual. I’m in the running to make All-State this year as a linebacker, and my eyes are set on a D1 college scholarship. I started talking to recruiters last year during my junior year. This year, I just have to keep my head down and my grades up, and I’m set.
School may not be my thing, but football is. I’m willing to do anything to make sure I get that scholarship and get out of this town. I’ve been an outsider since we moved here, and the only time I feel like I belong is on the football field and with my best friends Langston and Campbell. They aren’t like the rest of the town. They welcomed me with open arms, and now, on the football field, we work well together. For Campbell, it’s just a way to pass the time doing something he finds fun, but for Langston and me—it’s our way out.
The A/C blasts me in the face when I step into the locker room and clap Langston on the shoulder. “Good job today, man.”
He grunts but doesn’t respond—just sits on the bench and concentrates on unlacing his cleats. I can see every play he made today running through his head, analyzing how he could have done better. That’s what it’s like with Langston. He is always looking for ways he can do better. I put a lot of pressure on myself because I want out of this town, but Langston’s pressure comes from his parents and his need to please them. It weighs on him, but there’s no way of convincing him that he works hard enough. He’s always looking for a way to work harder—to be better.
The locker room door slings open behind me, bouncing off the wall and revealing Campbell with a goofy grin on his face.
“Man, someone needs to tell Coach it’s just a game,” Campbell says, ruffling his hair out of his face where it fell during the extra bear crawls he had to do after practice.
You’d think the boy would learn to stop goofing off during practice drills. He’s always having to do extra bear crawls for it.
“Or maybe you need to learn to take it seriously,” Langston snaps.
Campbell’s smile drops, and I turn to look at Langston. He’s never the guy who snaps, so for him to do so now means he must be feeling more pressure than I thought.
Langston is still looking at his cleats when Campbell looks at me. He doesn’t notice the worried look that passes between us.
Before we can say anything, he’s standing and slamming open the door to his locker. He throws his cleats in and grabs his tennis shoes, spinning back around and dropping to the bench so hard the wood groans beneath his weight.
Campbell, thankfully, doesn’t push it. He goes to his locker and starts shedding his gear while I step beside Langston.
“Anything you want to talk about, man?” I ask, careful to keep my voice steady.
“Nope,” he says, pulling on one of his shoes. “Can you take MJ home? She’s waiting for me, but I think I will stick around and get some laps in.”
“You sure?” I ask, hesitant to say yes. It isn’t that I mind taking MJ home. Honestly, I probably like taking her home a little too much, but I’ll never admit that to Langston. He’d kick my butt the instant he found out.
“Yeah, I have to get faster before the regular season starts if I want recruits to look at me this year. Tell her I asked if you would take her home and tell her not to argue—she’s going to try.”
I roll my eyes because he isn’t telling me anything I don’t know. MJ would rather argue than breathe. It’s not that she’s difficult, but she’s strong-willed. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. It drives her mom crazy, and I think it’s hilarious.
“Can do, man. Don’t push yourself too hard,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder and grabbing my stuff for a shower.
______________________
Ten minutes later, I’m heading out of the locker room towards the bleachers where Langston typically meets MJ.
My hair drips, soaking into the collar of my shirt. I didn’t get it completely dry after my shower. I didn’t want to leave MJ waiting. So I rushed through my after-practice routine to get out here.
But it seems my rushing is for nothing because, looking around, I don’t see her standing anywhere.
A twinge of panic laces through my chest.
What if she got tired of waiting on Langston and found her own ride? Who would she have gone with? Is she safe?
I’m about to pull my phone out of my pocket to call her when I catch a glimpse of red hair under the bleachers—and she’s not alone.
That panic turns to hot lava running through my veins and burning out all rational thoughts when I see who MJ is with. I can’t stop myself as I march over and pull myself to my full height with my arms crossed over my chest—I wouldn’t stop even if I could.
I’m not in a position to ever admit how deep my feelings for MJ run—not even to myself. I won’t betray my best friend like that, but over my dead body will she be here with him.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, deepening my voice.
Eric Westbrook, one of our linemen, lifts his head from where he’d been leaning in to kiss MJ and glares at me.
I glare back. The dude might be bigger than I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t whip his butt—especially when it comes to MJ. She hasn’t looked at me yet, which is probably a good thing because one soft look from those crystal blue eyes, and I’d crumble at her feet.
My focus now needs to stay on Eric, who knows perfectly well that Mallorie Jade is off-limits. Langston made that clear to all the guys on the team, and I backed him up. Langston thought it was because I was protecting her like a little sister, but my reasons were more selfish than that. I couldn’t stand thinking about seeing her with any of the guys on my team—not when I dream about her looking at me, holding my hand, kissing me.
“Back off, man,” Eric says, his voice matching the burning anger in his eyes.
A dark chuckle slips out because, despite having played football with him for the past four years, he obviously doesn’t know me if he thinks I will walk away while he’s standing here with MJ under the bleachers.
“Mallorie Jade,” I say, using her real name and emphasizing just how serious I am, all while keeping eye contact with Eric, “go get in the truck. I’m taking you home.”
Until now, she hasn’t bothered to turn and look at me, but at my command, she whips around, fiery red hair floating around her, and if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
“You’re not the boss of me. I’m busy here.”
Shock hits me square in the chest, but I school my features, so I don’t show it. The shy girl who would hardly say two words to me and whose face lit up like a Christmas tree every time she saw me is long gone. In her place stands a girl who no longer cowers to anyone. I’ve seen the change over the last year—I watched as she stopped giving in to her mother’s demands and started finding who she was outside of her parents’ values, but I hadn’t experienced that wrath turned my way yet. It does funny things to my chest, making me want to pull her towards me and shake her while also being so proud of her I could nearly burst.
Wanting to shake her wins out when Eric’s eyes drop lower than they should ever be.
My hands clench into fists as my gaze drops from Eric to MJ. I wait for one second, then two, to see who will break first. When she plants her feet firmly into the ground and crosses her arms across her chest, I know there’s no way she’s backing down. Unfortunately for her, though, neither am I.
Stepping forward, I direct my stare back to Eric. “Do we need to get Langston for this?” I ask, pure venom lacing my voice.
He looks at me like he could run through me, and that’s fine—he’s welcome to try.
Finally, when I think I’m going to have to fight him, he backs down and says, “Whatever, she wasn’t worth it anyway.”
I’m tempted to chase after him and pummel him for that comment alone, but a fist lands square in my stomach, and it’s surprisingly strong.
“Oof. What was that for, MJ?” I ask, rubbing the spot where her hand connected with my abs.
She pushes past me, walking toward the parking lot.
“For being a jerk,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Ah, come on, MJ. You know I’m just looking out for you, right?”
She keeps walking into the parking lot and past my truck, ignoring me.
“Hey,” I call, lengthening my stride and catching up to her, “my truck’s back that way.”
“I’m aware,” she says simply and keeps on walking.
“Didn’t you hear me say I’m taking you home? Langston is getting more practice in.”
Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she spins towards me. “Didn’t you get the idea that I would rather walk a thousand miles than get in your truck right now? I’m walking home. Goodbye.”
She spins on her heel and starts walking again.
A low rumble of frustration emanates from my chest, and once again, I pick up my pace to catch up with her. Only this time, when I catch her, I scoop her up in my arms and spin her around until she’s slung over my shoulder and hanging upside down.
“Hayes Miller, put me down right now,” she says, pounding her fists against my back.
I ignore it like a pesky little fly, and when I’m at my truck, I open the door and throw her into the passenger side, pushing the lock down before I close it and rush over to the driver’s side.
When I get in, she has her arms crossed and is pouting as she glares out the window.
“Oh, come on. You can’t seriously be that angry with me.”
She doesn’t answer, just flips me a very obscene finger gesture, and I have to tuck my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing. That would only make the situation worse. But I almost choke, trying not to laugh at the thought of the once sweet and innocent girl sitting beside me turning into a rebel.
“Come on, MJ,” I say, sliding across the bench seat so I’m closer to her. “You can’t stay mad at me forever. Why are you actually mad at me? Eric is a jerk, and I just saved you.”
That catches her attention. Her head flies my way, and I get a whiff of her shampoo as she does. It smells like vanilla and coconut. I know because every time I give her a ride, it seeps into my seats and drives me crazy for weeks.
“Saved me,” she screams, reaching a decibel I’ve never heard before. Then she begins to laugh, and it turns a little maniacal. I can’t lie—it unnerves me.
“Saved me,” she repeats. “No one asked you to save me. I knew what I was doing—or at least I was learning. Between you and Langston, I’m never going to go on a date, let alone have my first kiss. So, I decided to take it into my own hands. That is until you showed up.”
There’s a wild look in her eyes, and at the thought of her kissing Eric, there’s probably one in mine, too. I feel wild—like I might burst at the seams any moment—and it’s the only explanation for what I do next.
Leaning in until our faces are inches apart, I say, “If you wanted to learn to kiss MJ, all you had to do was ask.”
Then her lips are on mine, and she sighs into me like I’m giving her the very air she breathes.
My hands come up and frame her face, kissing her like this will be the last time because, let’s be honest, it probably will be. I shouldn’t be doing this now. If Langston finds out, he will kill me, but the thought of her sharing her first kiss with anyone else drove me to the brink of my sanity.
A car door slams on the other end of the parking lot, and I jerk away, looking around us to make sure none of the other football boys saw me lip-locked with Langston’s little sister. When I see that the coast is clear, I return to MJ.
Her face is flushed, and she’s touching her lips like she can’t quite believe what just happened.
Join the club because I can’t either. Now that she isn’t taking over all my senses, reality is soaking in, and panic settles into my gut.
What did I do?
“I’ll uh—I’ll take you home,” I say, watching her closely for signs of regret, but that’s not the emotion I get. Instead, hurt flickers through her eyes right before a mask of indifference shutters over her features—the face of the rebellion.
“Fine,” she says, leaning back and looking back out the window.
Clearing my throat, I scoot back over to the driver’s seat, and as I drive her home, I pray that Langston never finds out that I’m in love with his little sister.