“No hard feelings.” Asher squeezed my hand under the table, his touch lingering on my finger.
We still hadn’t picked out a ring, but honestly, I didn’t need one. I had everything I could ever want. We were engaged, I turned twenty-one soon, and things at the center were going great since Asher got the team involved.
The session that day had gone so well, both Coach Johnson and Sally had wanted to make it a regular thing. She was currently looking at setting up the infrastructure to make it a permanent feature of the center’s program.
It had been such a great day, watching the kids interact and bond with the team. Hugo had followed Asher around like a lost puppy and the two of them had become fast friends. So much so, that Asher had signed up for the program’s in-house training sessions so he could be an official volunteer.
Life was good.
Perfect, even.
We’d celebrated our engagement over the weekend back in Rixon. Asher’s mom had invited my aunt for dinner and the five of us enjoyed good food and easy conversation, the tension of our past staying right where it belonged. Even Asher’s dad had managed to congratulate us, hugging me tight and telling me that the wedding was taken care of; all we had to do was let him know what we wanted.
But I didn’t want a big fanfare. All I needed was something small with the people I cared about most in the world.
“I like this place,” I said, glancing around the coffee shop Faith had picked. “It has character.”
“Right? We come here a lot.”
“You do?” I frowned, glancing between her and Rex. Guilt shone in Faith’s eyes.
“Actually, that’s why I asked you to come. There’s something I have to tell you... and I don’t want it to be weird, all right? But you’re one of my best friends and I know I was a total bitch at the beginning of the semester—”
“Faith take a breath. What is going on?”
“Oh, Boo Boo, just spit it out already. She isn’t going to care.”
Boo Boo? What the hell?
Asher almost choked on his coffee.
“Me and Rex, well, we’re—”
“Together. We’re together, okay?” He huffed dramatically. “Good. Now we can all move on with life.”
“I’m sorry, can we just back up a second, to the part where you just said the two of you are...”
“Together?” Rex smirked.
“I did not see that coming.” Asher let out a low whistle and I nudged him again.
“I know, I know.” Faith buried her face in her hands. “I’m a complete hypocrite.”
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
“Officially, a couple of weeks.”
“And unofficially?”
“We were fucking most of the summer.”
“Rex!” Faith hissed.
“So the summer of sexual inhibition and self-discovery was—”
“I lied. And I feel like a horrible person. But things with Rex were confusing and I didn’t want to jump headfirst from one relationship into another. God, you must think I’m such a bitch.”
“Faith, stop.” I sighed. “Are you happy?”
“Yeah, I mean... it’s new and unexpected. But Rex is so different to Max.”
“Well, duh.” He grinned, sliding his arm around her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see it, at all,” Asher said.
“That makes two of us,” Faith offered him an uncertain smile. “But the heart wants what the hearts want, am I right? Listen, I really am sorry about everything I said to Mya.”
“She’s forgiven you,” he said, “so I guess that makes us cool.”
“As long as you’re happy,” I added, “what me or anyone else thinks shouldn’t matter.”
“You’re right, it shouldn’t. But I don’t always find it easy to shake people’s expectations.”
“You’ll get there, Boo Boo.” Rex nuzzled her neck, and I sat there watching, completely bewildered. They were so... different. Faith was all about appearances and what other people thought, and Rex was... Rex. He didn’t really conform to gender stereotypes or label himself as straight or gay.
It was weird... but even weirder was the fact that as I watched them whisper to one another, wrapped up in their own little bubble, it didn’t seem weird at all.
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else,” Asher said. “But I’m really glad we cleared the air.”
My friends chuckled, and I smiled, a strange sensation washing over me.
I’d been Faith once upon a time. A girl lost and unsure of her place in the world, wanting to break free from the stereotypes forced on her. Then I’d found Asher and he’d taught me love had no limits. It was hard and messy and chaotic, but worth the fight and the tears and the heartache.
Love was what made us human.
But how someone else loved us made us feel more than human.
And Asher...
He loved me enough to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Part III
Senior Year
Cameron
“Chase, a word?” Coach beckoned me toward his office, and I weaved my way through the locker room. The air was warm, the smell of sweaty cleats and wet grass lingering.
Practice had been grueling, and I knew Coach Byford probably wanted to know where my head was at.
“Hey, Coach.”
“Take a seat, son.” He motioned to the seat opposite his desk and I sat. “Do I need to be worried?” Fingers steepled, he sat back, studying me.
“It’s my brother, sir. He’s...” Fuck. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with Xander. He’d only been in second grade a few weeks and my parents had already been called in four times.
Four.
“He’s finding it tough.”
Coach whipped off his ball cap and let out a long breath. “That’s rough, Cameron. I feel for the little fella, I do. But this is your senior year, son, and the team have a real shot at going all the way. I need to know my best wide receiver has his head on straight.”
“I know, Coach. I’m sorry.”
“You’re a good brother, Cam, and you’re a good guy. But the team needs you, here, on the field.”
I nodded, unable to reply over the lump in my throat.
“Scouts are going to be making the rounds soon enough, and you’ve got it, son. But you need to leave all the other crap at the door, okay? When you come into my locker room, you come with a clear head and—”
“And hunger for the win.”
“Damn straight. Now get out of here.”
I got up and made for the door, but Coach’s voice stopped me at the last second. “And Chase?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You ever need to talk, my door is always open.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I gave him a small nod before slipping back into the locker room. My quarterback, a guy called Dominic Sanchez, was waiting.
“Everything good?”
“He’s worried.” My lips pursed.
“Does he need to be worried?”