This time I laugh. “There isn’t a chance in hell that I’m going to that party. You just witnessed what happens when I go out in public in this town.”
He brings a hand to his chest and looks at me with a jaded expression. “I come to your defense when some rich prick is groping you and I’m the bad guy?”
“I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but something tells me you weren’t defending me. You have your own agenda for doing what you did, and personally, I don’t care. I just want to graduate and move on with my life.”
“So just like that, you’re quitting me?” When I look at him with a scrunched forehead and dipped brows, he elaborates, “tutoring. You’re quitting our sessions?”
“It’s not like you’ve learned anything at all, anyways. Try and get Leroy back.”
“Lenny,” he corrects me. “Although, you’ve actually taught me a lot. I learned that curled fingers hit the spot that drives you wild.” His brows waggle and I wanna slap him, but I also bite back a smile.
Zack is such an enigma. He has this personality that I’m drawn to. Moments like this—when he shows me his soft side—I feel like we could be friends. But then there are other times when he acts like he has some sort of hateful grudge against me and he’s out to make me miserable. “Why do you hate me, Zack?”
“What?” he spits out, like I caught him off guard. “Why would you assume that I hate you? I’m giving you a ride aren’t I?”
“Right now you’re being...ok. But, my first day of school, you were so kind and then you just turned ice cold, how come?”
“Why did you leave the Academy?” he asks me out of nowhere, completely ignoring my question.
“It’s personal.”
“Oh come on. You said yourself that it’s not really a secret. Humor me. Why’d ya leave?” He pulls down the driveway to my house and comes to a stop about halfway down. I’m not sure why he didn’t go all the way, but it’s just a short walk, better than the five miles I’d have to walk if he hadn’t stopped and picked me up.
“Ok,” I nod my head. “I’ll tell you.” I grab the door handle and flash him a devious smirk. “But then I’d have to kill ya.” I pull the handle and hop out, slamming the door shut behind me. I keep walking toward the house and look over my shoulder at him sitting in the driver's seat, mirroring the smile on my face.
This push and pull thing we have going on is exhausting, but satisfying in a strange way.
He’s something else.
And I have no idea why, but he brings the butterflies in my stomach to life.
13
Zack
It’s game night and I’m really not digging the Friday night lights tonight. I used to look forward to these nights. Hanging with the crew, watching the game, and partying it up afterwards. But for some reason, things have changed. Our group is growing more distant, especially with Jonas acting like a total d-bag. Not to mention, Nadia won’t be going tonight. After that scene at Pat’s yesterday, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to show my face around town either.
She still couldn’t tell me why she left the Academy. I gave her one more chance, and she failed, yet again. I don’t want to do this. Lord knows, I do not want to hurt this girl. But, what choice do I have? How am I supposed to get her to confess the truth if she won’t even tell me why she left?
I’m sick of this fucking war between my head and my heart. My head tells me to do whatever is necessary, but my heart is telling me to let it all go. For once, I wish they’d work together and make things easier for me.
Jonas stormed out after Nadia when we left the restaurant. She took a left, and he took a right to look for her. I knew I had to get to her first. I know he’s just trying to get in her pants and there is no way in hell that’s happening. The thought of any guy touching her boils my blood. It’s unfathomable. Which is absurd because she doesn’t belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anyone. If anything, I should want her to screw everyone and ruin her reputation further, but there’s this nagging feeling inside of me that refuses to let any guy touch her. No one but me.
It’s already five minutes into the second quarter when I drag my feet through the damp grass to meet everyone in the bleachers. Normally I’d catch a ride with Brock, but he’s out picking up a keg with his older brother for the party. Most of the guys I hang with are playing tonight, but there are a few who don’t play and come to every game, much like myself.
It was my freshman year when I quit the team. Parents’ night was my last game played and I vowed I’d never step foot on the field again. What’s a guy to do when his mom is home dying from a heroin overdose while you’re standing there waiting for her to show up? Your name is called, along with your parents, and your drunk dad is the only one who stumbles out there. At least he showed up, even if he was three sheets to the wind. Every time I hear an ambulance,
I’m reminded of that night.
My parents were divorced and she was dating some real winner who liked to fill her up with any drug he could get his hands on. Apparently, she got a bad hit and died shortly after. He called for help and the sirens sounded while I was standing on the field with all my teammates. All I could think about was how mad at her I was for humiliating me like that.
Now look where I’m at. Basically an orphan left to fend for himself and all I really wanna do is just survive. I’ve got no one. Absolutely no one.
My tennis shoes squeak against the metal of the stairs as I walk up the bleachers to the student section. It’s our last home game of the season and the place is packed, body to body, in the = families filling in the rest of the seats.
“About time,” TJ says with a slap to my back.
“Yeah,” I respond, not even paying attention to him as he continues to talk. My eyes skim the crowd. I spot pretty much everyone I would expect to be here, but also someone I wasn’t expecting.
Nadia’s sitting beside Bree and a couple other chicks. Huddled together and laughing about something. I find myself wondering what’s so funny. What gives this girl belly laughs? Makes her smile? Makes her heart palpitate? What can I take away from her as retribution for what she took from me?
Better yet, do I have the guts to do it? I’m not so sure as I stand here watching her like she’s the only person on these bleachers. Zoning everyone else out who’s talking, cheering, shouting. I focus solely on her smooth legs and the dimple on her left thigh.
Suddenly, the crowd goes wild. Everyone hoots and hollers as the Wildcats score their first touchdown of the night. The students who are sitting jump from their seats. All but a few, including Nadia. She just smiles and looks ahead at the field like she’s unsure what to do. I wonder if this is the first game she’s ever been to. Nah, East Pointe has a team; they’re just a different class than we are. It’s probably because she’s new here and doesn’t realize that this town eats, sleeps, and breathes football.
Why am I even thinking about this? Why can’t I stop looking at her?
At once, she rotates, her eyes landing on mine. Her smile fades and her back straightens. She looks uncomfortable under my watchful eye, but neither of us break the gaze. Sadness hides behind her eyes, a sadness I can relate to. Loneliness, regret, a dire need for more than this life is giving us.