“What’s wrong?” He places a hand on the small of my back.
“I’m fine.” I slither out of his reach.
“Are you sure? You don’t seem fine.” Coach Scott begins huddling the team, and Jasper shoots daggers at me before hustling to the field.
“Kip Rhodes is set to kick—booms the ball down the field. Drake Johnson has a decent return to the twenty-seventh yard line before being brought down by a flock of Ravens.”
“Blakely,” Meg nudges me, “pay attention.” Not even realizing we’ve started our hello cheer. I’m totally out of the zone as I stare into the crowd. Each clap echoing through my body.
Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.
I repeat the actions. I shout the words, but my heart isn’t in it tonight—my mind is in a fog. Things have been going so well with Jasper, I finally admitted to him and to myself that I’d grown feelings for him. Well, to him it was more like “You’re not so bad.” Same thing.
I was hesitant. I resisted so much, but I did it. I put myself out there. This lump lodged in my throat has me feeling like I shouldn’t have. He’s gaining the upper hand. With it comes power—the power to break me.
I look to the stands and see the junior varsity team in the student section and see Talon’s teammates. The lump in my throat now pushes deep into the pit of my stomach. I know he’s doing well, at least that’s what he says. Each day a victory. He’ll be in San Diego for the next thirty days and then he’ll finish out the school year in Blythe with Aunt Kelly and Uncle Wade. It’s only twenty minutes from Redwood, but still too far—yet, not far enough. Too far from me, too close to devilry.
“Ravens line up with a split left. Trips right. Number eighteen takes a snap. Fakes right. Ohhh, there is no slowing this boy down. Pass to the left to our favorite offensive tackle who is an eligible receiver. Wide open and touchdowwwnnnn, Ravens.”
The crowd goes wild, and we join them.
When I turn back to the game, I notice Coach Scott talking to a man in a suit, a badge clipped to his breast pocket that I can’t make out. The Panthers call a timeout, and the Ravens gather at the bench, little Sam hands out water to the players, and I smile. Sam is Kipp’s little brother, can’t be more than seven years old and a future heartbreaker at Redwood.
When the team heads back to the field, Jasper sticks around, having his own engaging conversation with the gentleman. After shaking hands, they part ways, and I can finally make out the badge.
UCLA Bruins, Recruitment
My jealousy and anger suddenly replaced with an ease of happiness for Jasper—this is what he wanted, what he’s worked so hard for. Then it hits me, full force in the gut, UCLA is four hours away. What does that mean for us? Is there an us? We've only just met, but I feel like I’ve known him for ages. My level of comfort heightening each moment we are together. My fear of losing him expanding each passing day. A novel feeling to me. I’ve never looked to another person for happiness, I’ve always found it in things or inside the suffering of those who have wronged me.
We lost the game 42-21. It wasn’t for lack of effort on our part, the Panthers just kick ass. We brought our all but, in the end, it wasn’t enough. I drive myself home to get ready for the party, and even though I want to make some smartass comment to Jasper about how he could just take Petra to the party, I don’t. I’m actually pretty proud of myself for my level of restraint today.
Jasper is in some sort of mood after their loss. It could be because the recruiter for UCLA was there today, and even though he played his ass off, I know he doesn’t feel like it was enough.
Just as I slip into a Redwood hoodie, my phone vibrates in the ass of my jeans pocket.
Are you ready yet? I need a beer ASAP.
Jasper has been sitting in the driveway with Landon, who is driving us tonight. I give him credit; he’s got patience. Always waiting on me.
Coming.
Just as I get on my white chucks, Dad appears out of nowhere. I didn’t even know he was home, not that I care. I can smell the stench of liquor on his breath, and if that wasn’t enough to tell me that he’s been drinking again, his blood shot eyes speak louder.
“Where the hell are you going?” He mutters, bracing himself on Mom’s Dutch armoire.
“Out.” I walk toward the corridor. Unbeknownst to me, he follows. I pick up my pace, unsure of what he wants. Dad is unpredictable when he’s in this state. With most people you get a happy drunk, an angry drunk, or an emotional drunk. With Dad you get angry, destructive, or violent. He throws words around like stones, not caring where they land—giving no thought to the fact that we live in a glass house.
“What do you want?” My tone rises and falls as I spin around, stopping him in his tracks.
“You need to get your brother back here.”
“Talon is where he needs to be.” I turn back around and reach for the door, pulling it open a crack, before his palm forcefully meets the mahogany. “I don’t need to remind you of this family’s agreement, do I?”
He steps closer, inches from my face, and my stomach turns at the repulsive smell. I keep myself calm and try to regain focus on something else, but all I ever do is think of the “what ifs.” What if he hurts me? He never has, physically. I’m the one person who has been spared of that pain. I’ll never know why, and I’ll never ask.
“My ride's here, please move your hand.” I close my eyes, hoping he will be gone when I open them.
“New boyfriend?” He chuckles, a tonal shift, “shouldn’t your old man meet him before letting him take my little girl out?”
“Little girl?” I laugh and attempt the handle again. “You already know him, it’s Jasper. Now, please move.”
My phone is blowing up in my pocket, but I continue to ignore it.
A devious laugh erupts from his dehydrated vocal cords. My expression twists in wry amusement. “Why is that funny?”
I’m fueling his fire now. I don’t even care what he finds so hilarious.
His hand still intact, I realize he’s not giving in. He’s bored, and he’s looking for an argument to excite his completely boring life. I reach my hand in back pocket and dial Jasper.
“Are you coming or what?” He sounds about as pleasant as a wolf.
“Can you come to the door?” I look to Dad who is sporting a smug grin.
“I guess.”
The call ends.
“You wanna talk to him. Talk to him.” I attempt to open the door, this time he allows it. I watch as Jasper walks up the drive, looking confused as hell.
“Sweetheart,” Dad whispers in my ear, “I don’t want to talk to him, I want you to stay the hell away from him.” I can hear the grinding of his teeth as his voice turns rabid.
“Mr. Porter.” Jasper gestures with a nod. His hands deep into the pockets of his black jeans. He looks unnerved.
“You two,” Dad points a finger between Jasper and I, “you two, are wasting your time.”
With that, he finally leaves. I expel a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. I’ve long since moved past being embarrassed by my parents’ actions.
“Let’s go.” I grab Jasper by the sleeve of his black sweatshirt and pull him out the door, leaving it open with Dad standing there watching us.