Close to Me

by Monica Murphy

  It’s all I can think about throughout practice. We’re out on the field, working on our halftime dance routine for tomorrow night, and I’m going through the motions like a zombie. I think about the smug look on Ash’s face when he first sees me walk through the door. He’ll probably say something rude about me to impress his friends and they’ll all laugh at him at my expense.

  Now I have mad regret. I should’ve told Brandy I couldn’t make it.

  We’re stunting, and I’m a base. Even though I’m short, I’m heavier than the freshmen girls who are flyers, plus I have strong legs. I’m so distracted when we throw our flyer into a basket toss, I almost drop her, which sends Brandy into a complete tizzy. She’s been sitting on the bleachers, making sure we’re lined up okay, and now she’s running down the steps, headed straight for us. “Holy crap Autumn, you almost dropped Emma! What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sorry, sorry.” I rise to my feet and brush myself off, little bits of dry grass fluttering to the ground. I was the one who took the brunt of the fall, collapsing under Emma so she never touched the ground. My side hurts, as does my shoulder, and I try to suck it up. “Actually, I don’t feel so great.”

  Kaya’s in the other stunt group and she sends me a look, one that clearly asks, are you all right? I give a shrug as my answer.

  “Emma, are you hurt?” Brandy asks as she approaches our stunt group.

  “No, Autumn dive bombed under me.” Emma pats me on the arm. She’s funny and sweet. I really like her. “Thanks for saving me.”

  “No problem.” I say nothing else, but I can feel my coach’s assessing gaze. I never drop anyone. Being a base is one thing I’m really good at, so I know Brandy’s wondering what’s wrong with me.

  Not like I can tell her either.

  I force myself to focus and we stunt for another twenty minutes. Once I push Ash out of my brain, I’m back to normal. To the point that when we’re finished, Brandy approaches me with a compliment.

  “Good job just now. I think you guys threw Emma up in the air higher than you ever have before.” She pats me on the back. “Whatever was bothering you earlier, you must’ve gotten over it.”

  Not particularly, though I’m not going to admit that to her. If I told her I had a problem, she’d ask all the right questions and next thing I’d know, I’d be confessing all to my cheer coach. I adore Brandy, but I do not want to tell her about my troubles with Ash.

  The less people who know, the better.

  We go back to the cheer room to get ready after practice is over. The girls who can’t go to the dinner leave, and the rest of us change back into the clothes we wore to school. I’m thankful I had on my favorite pair of jeans, and I consider re-curling my hair, but that would look like I’m trying too hard. And there’s supposedly no one on the team I’m trying to impress.

  “I’m so glad we’re eating with them tonight,” Kaya tells me as she removes her mascara with a makeup wipe and then immediately reapplies it.

  We’re both sitting in front of one of the full-length mirrors that’s propped against the wall in the cheer room. I’m brushing my hair, pleasantly surprised at how well the curl in my hair held. “Of course you’re glad. You get to see your boyfriend,” I tease her.

  “Hey, I forgot to tell you.” She turns to look at me. “Ash told Jaden that he’s not with Mia.”

  My head immediately starts to ache. “What are you talking about?”

  “He was telling Jaden at practice that he knew we saw him with Mia on Saturday, and he just wanted to reassure both of us that he’s not with her. As in, Ash specifically mentioned my name.” Kaya frowns. “Isn’t that weird?”

  “Totally weird.”

  “Like, why does he care what I think?” She frowns even harder. “Maybe he didn’t want us to tell everyone we saw them together?”

  “Did you tell everyone you saw them together?”

  “I don’t know about Jaden, but he doesn’t usually gossip about stuff like that. He doesn’t really care who’s dating who, you know? And the only person I told was you,” Kaya says.

  He told them so it would get back to me. I’m sure of it. Yes, I sound like I believe the world revolves around me, but I don’t. Not usually. But this situation is definitely about me. He told Jaden because he knew he would tell Kaya and Kaya would tell me.

  Now Ash looks like a good guy trying to squash rumors. What the hell ever.

  I decide to curl my hair after all, because I’m bored and we still have twenty minutes before we have to go. As time draws closer to us heading over to the dinner, I get more nervous. To the point my stomach is twisted in knots and I feel like I’m going to puke.

  This. Sucks.

  Eventually we drive over to the church across the street from the high school, where the team dinner is held every Thursday night. The parents’ booster club puts on the dinner for the JV and varsity teams, and sometimes they have a speaker who gets them pumped up for the game. We went to a couple of dinners last year, but this is our first one for this season.

  I’m literally shaking as I walk into the room where the dinner is held, thankful Kaya has already ditched me for Jaden so she won’t notice my over-the-top nerves. I’m surrounded by my oblivious team, me being the oldest one with the group since our two seniors both couldn’t make this dinner. The younger girls are acting like they’re about to lose their minds at the prospect of eating dinner with the football team.

  “You know none of them pay attention to us,” I say, just to burst their bubble. Though it is actually true. Maybe they’ll come around when the dinner is over and flirt with us for a few minutes. But for the most part, they’re too wrapped up in their own heads, focused on tomorrow’s game.

  “That’s not true,” Emma says. “One of them is looking at us right now.”

  “It’s Asher Davis,” one of the other girls—I’m not sure who—squeals.

  Dread socks me in the stomach, and as discreetly as possible, I glance over my shoulder to find Ash standing a few feet away from us, surrounded by his friends who are all talking animatedly. His gaze is zeroed in on me.

  I turn away, hoping he didn’t notice me looking at him.

  “Why doesn’t Ben play football?” Emma asks me.

  I return my attention to her, pushing Ash out of my mind. “He used to, but he kind of hated it, so he quit after sophomore year. Says he prefers playing basketball.”

  “I bet you’re excited to cheer for him.” Emma grins and starts doing this weird little dance like the goof she is.

  We’re a two-season sport, as in we cheer for both football and basketball. Sometimes we even cheer for the girls’ volleyball team. By the time February rolls around, we are all so over cheer, it’s not even funny.

  “Yeah, it’s fun cheering for basketball,” I tell her absently. I can still feel Ash’s gaze on me, and I want to turn around so I can glare at him, maybe even yell at him, but of course, I don’t.

  No way do I need to cause a scene.

  My father approaches the wooden podium that’s at the head of the room, and the boys immediately go quiet. The respect they have for him is pretty awesome. It makes me proud to see him command the room, and how they all look at him with reverence.

  He makes a few announcements, then thanks the cheer team for joining them for dinner tonight. “…and since we’re all about doing the polite thing, we’d like the ladies to go grab their dinner first,” he says, looking right at me with a big smile on his face.

  I smile in return, unable to stop myself. I may hate the fact that I’m in the same room with Ash Davis, but I love my daddy, and he loves me. So I’ll bask in that for a few minutes.

  We all line up at the buffet, which is being served by some of the parents. A local Mexican restaurant sponsored the dinner, so we have enchiladas and beans and rice to eat, as well as a small make-your-own taco bar. I wish I were hungrier, because it smells delicious, and I pile the food on anyway, hoping my appetite returns.

  As I
make my way back to my table, I spot Ash sitting two tables away from mine. He’s watching me, as usual, his intense dark gaze trailing my every move, his expression serious, and I look away, hating how agitated he makes me feel.

  What’s weird is that Ben never makes me feel this way. Edgy and nervous and full of restless energy. Spending time with Ben is like hanging out with a good friend who I can also kiss for like twenty minutes. It’s easy. Fun.

  There is nothing easy or fun about Ash.

  The more I listen to the girls at the table talk and gossip as we eat dinner, the better I feel. Their energy is endless, and I get swept up in their giggles and gossiping until I’m giggling and gossiping too. I’ve noticed something clicks in your brain at the end of sophomore year, when you realize you need to get serious and focus on your grades and your future. In the last few months, I sort of forgot what it felt like, to be silly and laugh and joke and gossip about boys.

  The conversation helps me forget that Ash is even in the same room with us. To the point that when I make my way over to the dessert table all by myself, I find Ash standing next to me not even a minute after I got there.

  “Glad you came tonight,” he murmurs, standing way too close to me. “I’ve missed you, friend.”

  I grab a small paper plate and set a cupcake on it. Then I take a chocolate chip cookie. I keep thinking my period is going to happen and it doesn’t. I’m in full-on PMS mode. “You haven’t missed me.”

  “I totally have. I even dreamed about you last night.” He shifts even closer and bends his head, his mouth right at my ear. “You didn’t kick me out of your house. In my dream, you took me to your bedroom and let me fuck you all night long.”

  I really hate his sweet and gross ways.

  Oh, I dreamed about you!

  Sweet.

  I dreamed I was fucking you.

  Gross.

  He is such a contradiction. I never know what I’m going to get.

  “If you’re trying to be romantic, it’s not working.” I grab another cookie. No way am I going to eat all of this.

  “I’m not going for romance. We’re friends, right? I’m just keeping it real.” He moves away from me, grinning. “In my dream, you kept saying my name.”

  “And I’m sure in your dream, you kept calling me Callahan,” I return dryly.

  “How’d you know?” He reaches out, giving me a gentle sock on the upper arm with his fist, and the seemingly innocent touch is like a caress to my Ash-starved soul. “I think you like it that I only call you Callahan.”

  “Not really.”

  “You’d rather I call you by your first name?”

  I long to hear him say my name, not that I’d ever admit it. “I don’t care what you call me.”

  “So I can call you fuck buddy and you’d be good with it?” His expression is one of pure innocence.

  “Only if I can call you major asshole,” I say sweetly.

  And with that, I turn on my heel and make my way back to my table. I hear a few guys laughing, telling Ash that I got him good, and pride suffuses me. I know I shouldn’t be happy that I insulted him so well, but I have to take my victories where I can. Most of the time, he has me so confused, I can barely speak.

  A local former Division One college football player starts giving an inspirational speech once everyone has grabbed dessert, and I try my best to focus on what he’s saying, but I can feel the vibration of my phone blowing up. At first, I think it might be Ben, but when I see that now familiar number that has no name attached to it on my screen, I know exactly who it is.

  My friends think you’re funny, Callahan.

  And they’re not just saying that because you’re the coach’s daughter either.

  They have mad respect for you.

  That you stood up to me.

  You’re kind of a badass.

  His texts shouldn’t make me feel better, but they do.

  But then I start to panic, and worry over what exactly he might’ve shared with them about what happened between us.

  You haven’t told them anything, have you?

  He responds quickly. Told them anything about what?

  About us.

  That we’re friends? Yeah, they know we’re friends.

  Do they know anything else? I ask.

  Like what? You talking about the night you were grinding on my dick? Yeah, they definitely DON’T know about that.

  I hate him so, so much.

  If you mention that to anyone, I’ll…

  What would I do?

  You’ll what? Send big, bad Ben after me?

  Huh. I don’t know who’d win in that fight. They’re both pretty equally sized.

  I would never send my boyfriend after you.

  Yeah cuz he’d dump your ass if he ever found out what we did.

  Glancing up from my phone, I spot Ash staring right at me. His expression is completely neutral, but I see the glimmer in his eyes. He’s enjoying this.

  Far too much.

  Frustrated, I whisper to my coach that I need to use the restroom and I bail out of there, unable to take it any longer. The droning voice of the speaker, the watchful eye of my father. The even more watchful eye of stupid Ash Davis. I’m tempted to leave. Send Brandy a text that I’m not feeling well and I went home. She wouldn’t be mad. She’d probably be jealous.

  I stand in the lobby of the church where the team dinner’s held, debating what I should do next, when I hear the door behind me quietly click shut. I turn to find Ash standing there, all by himself, a smug look on his handsome face.

  “You need to leave me alone,” I whisper hiss at him.

  The innocent look on his face is pure bullshit. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re following me.”

  He rests a hand on his chest. “I would never follow you.”

  “Liar.” I spin on my heel and march right for the double doors, pushing my way outside. Ash is right behind me, so I keep talking to him. “I’m sick of you harassing me, Ash.”

  “I’m sick of you pretending you’re hot for your boyfriend when we both know who you’re really hot for,” he retorts, his eyes flaring.

  I gape at him, my surprise rendering me silent. “Why do you always have to make everything sound so dirty?”

  “It’s a particular skill I have.” A strong breeze comes up, making all the leaves in the trees surrounding us rattle, and I wrap my arms around myself. The wind isn’t that cold, but I’m chilled just the same.

  By the look in Ash’s eyes.

  By the harsh tone of his voice.

  “Isn’t it exhausting, pretending all the time?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything. “Pretending that you’re someone you’re not?”

  I lift my chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You act like you’re better than me. You act like you and Ben are the perfect couple, when we know it’s bullshit. And when I say we, I mean you and me.” His lips thin as he contemplates me. “I could go back inside right now and tell everyone what we did. That would totally ruin the illusion you’ve so carefully built.”

  Panic rises in my throat, nearly choking me. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I’m tempted.”

  “You can’t.” I take a step toward him. Then another. Glancing around, I make sure nobody is around before I whisper, “My father is in there.”

  “Yeah, and he’ll probably shit his pants when I tell him his little princess isn’t quite as perfect as he thinks.”

  Tears sting the corner of my eyes and I shake my head, fighting them off. Willing them to stop. I refuse to cry in front of this asshole. “Why are you like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “You act like you’re obsessed with me and then you turn around and insult me.” It’s so true. He’s mean. He’s nice. He’s mean.

  I hate it.

  “I don’t know why,” he says, looking down at the ground and kicking at a rock. He sends it skittering acros
s the sidewalk just as the leaves start rattling again from the wind. “You make me crazy.”

  “You make me crazy too.” And not in a good way. “You need to leave me alone.”

  “We can’t be friends?” He sounds genuinely sad, and I know that has to be complete bullshit.

  “There is no way we can be friends,” I tell him, my voice firm. “This would never work. Right?”

  He’s quiet, shoving his hands in his front pockets, watching me like he does. A minute ticks by, or maybe it’s only thirty seconds, I don’t know. When he finally nods, I exhale shakily. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath.

  “I’ll leave you alone if you leave me alone,” he says.

  Relief floods me. “Deal.”

  “Shake on it?” Ash extends his hand toward me.

  I take it, trying my best to ignore the currents of electricity that travel through my veins when our palms make contact.

  Fourteen

  Ash

  I open the door of our apartment and walk inside, holding my breath when the smell hits me. Stale air, tinged with a hint of cigarette smoke and rotting food.

  Guess someone forgot to take out the trash.

  The only light in the tiny living room comes from the TV on the wall, flickering and blue. It may be a flat screen, but it’s old. And I’m pretty sure Don stole it from someone.

  Don. My mom’s boyfriend. The asshole who tries to tell me what to do, like he’s my dad or something. I hate that guy.

  I miss my dad.

  “You bring me anything to eat?” Mom’s scratchy voice startles me, and my backpack slips from my fingers, falling with a loud thud onto the floor. “Shh, you’ll wake him up!” she whisper-screeches at me. I can only assume she’s talking about Don.

  “I didn’t bring you anything,” I tell her as I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “It was team dinner night.”

  Sometimes if I’m feeling generous or guilty, I’ll bring Mom home half my Subway sandwich or nuggets from McDonald’s. I can’t remember the last time she cooked a meal. She doesn’t take care of herself. She doesn’t take care of me either. There’s never any food in the kitchen, and Mom doesn’t have a consistent job, so there’s never any money either. I used to work odd jobs here and there, helping people in the neighborhood, mowing lawns or cleaning out garages, but the money wasn’t good enough.