by Ella Goode
She lets out a small laugh. “I’m not selling myself very well as a partner, am I?”
“No.” I laugh with her.
“I work hard. I promise. I’m just not great at the subject.” She gives a small shoulder shrug. Dad always told me you don't have to be the best at everything you do. It's not that all successful people are gifted; some just work hard on purpose to succeed. If someone is willing to put in the effort then they are someone worth working with.
“You got yourself a partner.” I hold my hand out. “Alice. Everyone calls me Aly.” I introduce myself, but I’m sure she already knows my name. This is the second class we’ve had together and both had a roll call.
“Melody.” She takes my hand. “Promise I won’t tell Owen you were doodling his name.”
I groan, dropping my head back and making her laugh harder. “I can’t believe I was doing that.”
“Meh. If you’re going to doodle someone’s name, it might as well be someone who has your back.” She gives me another one of those chill shoulder shrugs. “Hell, some guys would have gotten all bent out of shape they didn't get to stand up for you first. He looked kind of proud that you busted JJ in the nuts.”
I close my eyes for a minute. “Still can’t believe I did that,” I admit.
“It was the highlight of my day. Hell, maybe the highlight of my month.”
“Is everyone talking about it?” I don’t know why I ask. Of course they are.
“Yep. There is even a video going around on Snapchat of it in slow motion.” I go for my phone to see for myself. “I’m joking,” Melody says. “God, that would be wonderful.” She sighs like she’s replaying it in her head in slow motion for herself.
“Class dismissed,” Mr. Barker announces from the front of the room.
“Give me your number.” Melody pulls out her phone, waiting for me to give it to her. It wasn't really a question. It should probably annoy me but I enjoy how straightforward she is so I rattle it off to her and she shoots me a text. I see I have one from my mom too, along with an image on my calendar.
I can be obsessive about my calendar. Owen watched me add things to it all morning. At lunch he asked me to share mine with his. Like when Melody asked for my number, I just shared it with him. I have no idea why. I think because he was so interested in it. I click to see Owen has invited me to multiple things. There’s a party scheduled in there for this Friday night and my entire Saturday is mysteriously blocked out. Well, if I accept the invites it will automatically block it all out. I click his calendar, which he opened to me, and the only events he has on it are ones he sent me. He set up a calendar to hang out with me. Grr. He’s so freaking adorable. I need to set my own reminder in my phone. One that tells me daily that Owen is just a friend. I am going to need it.
Chapter Eight
Owen
“You’re bringing a who to what?” Carter squints at me as if by viewing me differently will change the words I said.
I slam the locker door shut, grab my helmet and repeat my statement. “I’m bringing Ace to practice. I don’t want her leaving school by herself since Double J’s probably waiting.”
“Fine, but you drop one ball during practice and you’re doing suicides until you puke.”
I hold out my hand. “You’re on. My hands are glue. You get it close and I’m hauling it in.”
Carter hits my fingers with his and we simultaneously draw back with a snap. All Carter wants to know is my head’s in the game and it is. I’m good enough I can have my girl sitting on the sidelines while I’m on the field. It’s called multitasking.
“You going after that Alice chick?” Billy wanders over.
The grin slips off my face. Billy gives me bad vibes. It’s not that he’s done anything wrong around me but every time he’s close a warning bell ding-a-lings loud enough you’d think I was at the firehouse.
“I got some stuff cooking,” I say off-handedly.
“There’s a pool for who can nail the most new girls. You want in?”
I glance over at Carter, who is ignoring this business, wrapping tape around his fingers. So this is okay but bringing your girlfriend to practice isn’t? Not sure I agree with that.
“Nah. I’m pretty selective about where my dick goes.” As in, I’m not putting it anywhere but Alice’s sweet pussy.
“Your loss.” Billy shrugs and moves through the locker room to make his offer to a different teammate. I watch him get turned down repeatedly. Guess it’s the whole team’s loss.
Still in my street shoes, I book it down the hall to Ace’s class. I arrive just as the bell rings and skid to a stop. The classroom door bursts open and students tumble out as if the classroom is puking them out.
Ace is at the back of the pack.
“Yo, Ace.” I jerk my chin up and motion her over.
“Yo, Owen,” she echoes, trying to sound hard and looking like a kitten with a snarl on her cute little face.
“That’s my name.” I wink at her. I reach out to pull her close and remember the stupid agreement I made with her. No touching without permission. “Let’s do this, Ace,” I suggest. “You call me by my name and I’ll assume it’s okay to lay hands on you. That way you don’t have to keep telling me it’s okay when we both know it is.”
“Like a safe word but in reverse?” says another girl.
I swing my eyes to Ace’s left and spy another student. I search my internal student body catalog and stop at Melody James. “Melody, good to see you.” I hold out my fingers for a slap.
She smacks me good. “How do you know my name?”
I give her a mock wounded look. “I’m not just a good-looking piece of meat, Melody. I’ve got a brain. And feelings.” I tap my heart. “Be gentle with me.”
“Whatever. This guy is who you’re thinking about all class period? He’s an overconfident meathead who just wants in your pants.” Melody shakes her head in disgust. “Come over to my house and I’ll introduce you to Steven Pants.”
There’s about a half of foot of space between my newest foe and Ace. Smoothly, I slide into that empty area and discreetly shove Melody away from my girl. “Sorry. Your hookup will have to be saved for some other girl. Ace is mine.”
“Steven Pants is my cat, dipshit,” Melody says. “See?” She tries to get to Ace. “This is what I’m talking about. He’s going to be up in your business and won’t let you have any fun. You just got here. Don’t let him dictate what you’re going to do. Athletes here are bad. They just want to nail girls for some kind of intramural trophy. Football players are the worst of the lot.”
My arm drops down protectively around Ace. “I don’t know what you’ve been told, Melody, but I’m a student first and sewer in training second and football player a far distant third. Ready, Ace?”
“Sewer in training? Really?”
I take that as a yes and begin steering her down the hall. “I have signed up for the sewing club. I heard the meetings got rescheduled to seven in the evening.”
“Yeah. How’d you manage that?”
“Funnily enough, when I told the advisor that I was interested in taking the class but that it conflicted with my football practices, she changed it before I could ask.”
“You dimpled her, didn’t you?” Ace accuses.
“Dimpled her?” That’s a new one.
“Yeah. You flashed your dimple at her and she just lay down and said, ‘Please, sir, I’ll have another’.”
“Ah, there was no laying anyone down in the office.” I shudder. No way I was piping Mrs. McGee. She’s got to be at least seventy.
“It’s a metaphor,” snipes Melody.
Dude. She’s still here? I sigh internally. I guess Ace picked up a friend and I’ll just have to learn to deal.
“How long is practice?”
“Hour and a half, Ace.”
“Hour and a half?” the two girls screech in unison.
I shake my ear to make sure my eardrum is still in place. “Yeah. What’
s the big deal? Time goes by fast. There’s plenty of action on the field and tight asses. You, Ace, are only allowed to stare at mine. Melody, there’s a ton of single guys so please feel free to treat the team as your personal buffet.”
“I’d rather starve myself in a tree.”
“I know that reference.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a poet that once loved a woman so much that after she turned him down, he went and lived in the hollow of a tree,” I explain to my science-loving girlfriend-to-be.
Melody narrows her eyes at me. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a lover of words.” And Ace, but I keep that to myself. “My bestie will tell you all about it at practice.”
Chapter Nine
Alice
“Bestie?” Melody asks, her one eyebrow up so high that it meets her hairline.
I fidget on the bleacher seat and pretend that I don’t hear her. It sounds dumb when she says it out loud. Still I can’t help but find it endearing that he’s keeping this up. Melody's eyes go to the field where they’re all starting to practice. As she watches the boys run their drills, her nose scrunches like she’s never seen people play football before. I’m a little surprised that she’s taken up residence with me on the bleachers. I figured she would have booked it by now. Crap. It’s then I remember I have a text from my mom. I told her to wait for me to text her when I would need to be picked up. I wasn't sure how the day would go and I thought I might pick up a club that could start after school or have the need to speak to one of my teachers.
I pull out my phone to check my message and give her a heads-up about my plans. It’s then I see I have more than one missed text from her.
Mom: How’s your first day going?
Mom: Your dad knows who Owen McCoy is. Or as he informed me, Owen “fast” McCoy.
Mom: Do I need to come pick you up now?
Mom: Are you busy chatting with Owen and can’t text your mom back?
I glance up to see Owen running down the field catching a football easily. I got the fast thing but how did my dad know who he was? My phone starts to vibrate in my hand. I don’t have to look to know who’s calling. I scoot down the bleacher a bit before I hit the button to accept the call. I don’t want it to seem rude that I’m taking a call in the middle of a practice so I keep my voice low. Plus Mom’s voice tends to get louder if she’s excited about something. I can tell she’s curious about Owen and I’m not sure that I want Melody to overhear our conversation. Not that she is even paying attention at this point.
“I was about to text you back. Sorry!” I tell her quickly. I wasn't talking to Owen but he was rather distracting. She was partially right. She always is. Melody takes her eyes off the field to look over at me for a moment but they go right back when she sees I’m on the phone. I have a feeling that Melody is going to be more than my assignment partner. I seem to have found a bench-warming partner also.
“What-cha doing?” My mom tries to play it chill. She wants me to cough up information without her asking. I skirt around the topic of Owen for as long as I possibly can.
“I’m sitting here.” Not a lie, I am sitting here. “Waiting for sewing club to start.”
“Sewing club?” I can see her face now, her eyebrows furrowed as she wonders why there is a sewing club. “If you were any other kid I’d probably call you a liar. I would most likely surmise that you really have plans to sneak off and do something you’re not supposed to.”
“Nope, sewing club starts at seven.”
“Seven!” she half shouts. “What will you eat for dinner? What will you do until it starts? That’s hours away.” She fires off the questions, her chill long gone.
“How does Dad know Owen?” I fire off one of my own. I almost kick myself because now my mom will know that I’m interested. I’ve opened the door really wide, practically inviting her to ask me questions about him now.
“You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours,” she says smugly.
“I’m going to read while I wait for sewing club to start and I had a big lunch,” I rattle off. Then the freaking coach blows a whistle loud enough for everyone to hear. Including my mom.
“Where are you reading?” she hedges.
“Hey. I answered your questions.”
“Your dad is hoping he gets recruited to Notre Dame. Said he’ll likely be asked but who knows who Owen will commit to.” My ears perk up at that. That’s where I wanted to go. It’s where Dad went. It was my first choice. My eyes go back to Owen, who is catching another ball. He plucks it right out of the air. One-handed this time. He’s so graceful on the field that it’s hard to take my eyes off of him. I wonder what else he knows how to do with those hands.
“He makes that look like an art,” Melody says next to me.
“Who’s that?” Mom asks in my ear.
“Melody. My science partner.”
“Oh.” My mom sounds a little disappointed. “Where are you girls?” She tries again.
“You’re not tracking me?” I tease. My mom and I both have tracking on each other. I turned it on a while back because I enjoyed tracking her when she was on her way home with food. It was the food I was tracking really. She is tracking me because she’s nosy. Even if she tries to pretend she’s not.
“Says you’re at the school but doesn’t show me much else.” She sighs.
“I’m outside by the football field,” I finally give her.
“Oh,” she says again. This time she’s a little more perky about it.
“Can I text you later?” I ask, feeling rude being on the phone while Melody is sitting here but she’s more interested in the football field than anything.
“Okay. But if you need something to eat text me and I’ll bring something up.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, sweetheart,” she says before hanging up.
Melody looks way more into the football practice then I would have guessed her to be. Not with the way she talked about them earlier. I’d be a liar if I didn't admit there was something sexy about watching how good Owen is on the field. I am suddenly more into football than ever before.
“Why anatomy and physiology if you’re not good at it?” I ask Melody, trying to come up with something to think about other than Owen’s sexy skills on the field. My eyes go to the drawing pad that I’ve noticed is always in her hand. She’s put her other books into her backpack but the pad has stayed with her. I saw her drawing in it when I was doodling in class. I knew she was likely here for art.
“My mom says the art probably won’t feed me. Have to do something smart so I can take care of myself.” She has on a pair of three hundred dollar jeans and some white sneakers which look like she’s drawn on them herself. I know those aren’t cheap either. My face must show the question dancing in my head. She looks taken aback now. “She doesn’t want me to be like her.” She gives a small shrug. This one isn’t as nonchalant as the other ones she’s given.
“Like her?” I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Dependent on a man.” She says it with disgust in her voice.
Yeah, some men are disgusting. Dad isn’t. There are good ones out there. My eyes drift back to the football field to Owen. “Is there something wrong with depending on people?” I think it would be sad to not have someone you could lean on when you needed it.
“You can’t rely on anyone.” My head jerks back to her. My heart aches for her in this moment.
“I’m sorry.”
She turns her head to look at me now. “Don’t be sorry for me.” She laughs. I don’t know if the laugh is to hide the pain or something else. Either way I don’t like it. She stands. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She picks up her backpack. I reach out, grabbing her other hand.
“You can always count on me,” I tell her. I see that tough exterior start to fall into place like she had with Owen. I give her hand a small squeeze. She gives me a nod and without saying anything else she turns and leaves.
I watch her go, already knowing I’m going to make an effort to be her friend. She and Owen have both been reminders today that not everyone is what they seem. There are so many layers to people. I pull out a book from my backpack to get a head start on some of this year’s course work, getting lost inside it. It is a bittersweet habit I have.
A whistle blows and when I look up from what I’m reading, I see a sweaty Owen running toward me.
“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed. We can head to sewing after that. Sound good, Ace?” Owen says while he stands there looking all sweaty and masculine. It’s as though my tongue is tied when I search for the words to give him a response. My mouth can’t seem to form them. He looks so damn hot I’m speechless. I finally get my brain and mouth to work.
“Okay, Owen.”
He smiles widely at my response as he reaches out to tap my nose with his finger. “See you in a few.” He winks at me as he heads to the locker room.
It’s then I realize that out of all the words I could have chosen to speak, I said his name, giving him permission to touch me.
Chapter Ten
Owen
I shower faster than I ever have and hightail it out of the locker room before anyone can get in my way. I may have knocked down a freshman or two on my way out but, eh, that’s life. Ace is sitting on the dirty hallway floor, looking through her math textbook.
I grin to myself. What a nerd. What a fucking hot nerd. Maybe she can read the equations out loud while I bury my face between her legs. That’d be sexy. Of course, that’s not much of a stretch. Her breathing is sexy.
