by Lane Hart
“I don’t know…”
“Please? At least think about it. Aren’t you tired of letting him win?”
“God, yes,” she grumbles, resting her head back on the chair. “But I just don’t like confrontations.”
“Maybe you just need to confront him before he goes on the attack, like a preemptive strike.”
“You think so?” she asks.
“Definitely. Show him you’ve had enough. That could make him finally back off.”
Chapter 27
Aric
I was wrong about my shoulder. It didn’t hurt Monday when I was mowed down by my own teammates.
Now it fucking hurts.
Still, I’m going to pop a few pain killers and down them with alcohol, ice it in a sling and tough it out for a few more hours because that’s how much I need to see Maddie, to finally claim her as mine in front of the entire school after the homecoming game.
“His shoulder’s likely dislocated now,” Dr. Thompson tells Coach as I sit on one of the benches in the field house training rooms. “He played too soon before it healed, so we’re looking at weeks of recovery.”
“We don’t have weeks!” Coach snaps at the trainer like it’s his fault that I was sacked three times by the Caldwell Cardinals. At least we still won, or it would be a depressing as fuck dance.
“Can’t really help you there, Dennis,” the doc replies. “He needs to go to the ER and get an MRI to see how bad it is.”
“I can do that tomorrow, right?” I ask since tonight is a big hell no.
“The sooner we know the full extent of the injuries, the sooner you can start your rehabilitation,” Dr. Thompson says. “And I have a feeling that they’re going to need to pop it back into place.”
“Where is he? What’s going on?” I hear my father’s voice coming from the locker room a moment before he appears in the doorway. He looks from me to Coach and then to Dr. Thompson, his red face full of concern, not just for my wellbeing but my career. “How bad is it?” he asks.
“I was just telling Coach Henry that Aric needs to go to the ER tonight for an MRI to determine if there’s any damage to his muscles, tendons and ligaments.”
“How long will he have to be out?” my dad demands.
“Even if it’s just the dislocation with no other tears, then it’ll take at least three or four months for it to heal.”
“And he can’t throw while it heals?” Coach asks.
“No.”
“Then I guess we can kiss your college offers goodbye,” my dad says with a scowl, but that’s just music to my ears. I get to be with an amazing girl and stay here in town next year? The pain is so worth it.
“Not necessarily,” Dr. Thompson tells him. “Aric has a great record. With a full recovery, I’m sure some schools will still be interested in him, assuming there are no tears.”
“But with tears?” I ask.
“Then you may need surgery and will possibly still never throw another football again,” he says solemnly, as if it’s bad news.
“There goes our season,” Coach grumbles. He pulls off his Mercy hat and slings it across the room before stomping out.
“You need to get him to the ER tonight,” Dr. Thompson suggests to my dad.
“After the homecoming dance,” I tell them. “Please?”
“No,” my father says with a swift shake of his head. “The sooner we find out how bad things are, the sooner we can start your recovery!”
“It can wait an hour or two,” I say when I ease off the table. When the room spins and I feel like I’m gonna throw up, I have to catch myself on the table with my good hand before I faceplant on the floor.
Dr. Thompson grabs me by my left elbow and my dad supports me from the other side. “You’re in a lot of pain, Aric. You need something stronger than ibuprofen.”
“I’m fine,” I tell them as they help me get through the locker room that’s now empty other than sweaty pads and wet towels on the floor. “Just drop me off at the gym. My date’s waiting. I can still dance.”
“Yeah, okay,” my father says with what sounds like sarcasm but I’m not entirely sure.
“Oh, honey!” my mom exclaims when she sees us approaching their SUV and comes running over. “You poor thing.”
She hugs me, and then I’m being shoved in the back seat. Sitting jostles my arm, causing me to let loose a string of curses that my parents don’t even bitch about.
Only when my dad pulls away from the stadium do I realize we’re not going in the direction of the gym.
“Shit,” I mutter. I’m still wearing my uniform minus the helmet and shoulder pads, so I definitely don’t have my phone on me. It’s still inside my duffle in my locker, along with the suit I was planning to wear tonight. “Go back. I need my phone. I’ve gotta call Maddie,” I tell my dad.
“You can borrow my phone, sweetie,” my mother says from the passenger seat.
“Fuck, I don’t know her number!”
“Whose number?” she asks just as my dad hits the speed bump in the school zone. Agonizing pain radiates through my entire body from my shoulder.
Maddie
The gym is so heavily decorated with strings of lights, blue and red streamers and balloons that it doesn’t even look like the same place where they make us drop down and do a million pushups.
“The cheerleaders went all out, didn’t they?” Hannah says as we stand just inside of the entrance to take it in. We aren’t the first ones to show, a few dozen of our classmates are milling around, some are even dancing.
“Yeah, it’s…pretty,” I reluctantly agree and then stroll over to take a seat at one of the empty tables. “So, I guess now we wait.”
Once our hair and makeup was done, Hannah drove us to the game to watch the first half and then it was back to her place to quickly get our dresses on for the party.
“Now we wait,” she agrees. “Are you nervous? You look nervous,” she says when she pulls out the wooden chair next to me and falls into it gracefully despite how tight her short, gold dress is around her midsection.
“I think you’re projecting,” I tell her honestly when I notice her knee is bouncing against the red tablecloth.
I’m not nervous. Aric and I are great together, so I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about the two of us being a couple. They can call me a slut or gold-digging whore or whatever they want. It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before anyway.
Just as I’m starting to relax and enjoy the upbeat pop music pumping through the speakers, both of the gym doors open and in walks a herd of football players dressed in their designer suits. My stomach does a small flip, my body insisting that I’m not as cool and calm as I thought I was.
“There they are,” Hannah says on a heavy sigh.
Royal and Blake are at the front of the group leading them inside. And, of course, their first stop is to the refreshment table where several linebackers stand and block the punch bowl from sight while several others, Royal included, not so subtly pour in a few additions.
“Looks like we’ll need to stick to bottled water tonight,” I tell Hannah.
“Speak for yourself. I could use a little liquid courage.”
Once the football team disperses, some heading for their girls, mostly cheerleaders, other’s grabbing a plate and piling it with food, Hannah finally gets up and goes over to scoop herself up a big cup of the red beverage. Once she drinks it, she scoops up another serving.
The whole time I’m trying to discretely search through the preppy guys for Aric, but he’s not with the rowdy group.
“Where’s Aric?” Hannah asks when she returns, her cup already empty.
“No clue,” I reply. “Guess I could go ask them.” I nod over to where Blake and Royal are standing together, heads bent as they likely discuss who they plan to terrorize or screw tonight.
“Come on. Let’s do it,” she says, surprising the shit out of me when she grabs me by the wrist and pulls me along, stumbling
behind her in her heels I borrowed. I didn’t think she would want to speak face to face with her nemesis on the likely chance that he’ll cause a scene. Guess she decided to confront Royal to try and shut him down.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” Royal asks. “Was there a sudden shortage on skanks that needed to be filled?”
Dropping my arm, Hannah reaches out and grabs Royal’s black silk tie and then yanks on it. Hard. So hard that he makes a choking sound and quickly tries to loosen the knot at his throat but fails. “You and I need to have a talk. In private.”
“Nothing to say to you, bitch,” he bites out.
Her palm that’s not currently holding his tie hostage comes up and slaps the shit out of his face, causing such a fantastic sound when her flesh meets his that I have no doubt everyone is looking at us, or more specifically the red welt swelling up on Royal’s gaping, stunned face.
“I’m so sick and tired of your mouth!” Hannah seethes when she jerks him forward a few inches by his tie. “Now, you’re coming outside with me to talk like a decent human being without using insults, or so help me god, I will knee your nuts so hard that you’ll never find them again.”
Without another word from either of them, Hannah pulls Royal along behind her by his tie to the front doors where they disappear.
Jesus Christ. Get a little alcohol in Hannah’s system and she turns into a raging badass. I smile to myself because I really like this side of her.
“Hey, Maddie,” Blake says, breaking the spell of watching Royal being woman-handled in front of half the school, apparently unconcerned for his shithead of a friend.
“How’s it going, Blake?” I ask when I turn back to face him again. He’s wearing a dark suit with a white button down and a light blue tie that he straightens and smooths down with his hand as if worried I’ll pull the same maneuver on him as Hannah did to Royal. Or maybe he wants me to pull it? The look on his face is sort of a confused hopefulness.
“We won,” he says, as if I didn’t already know that.
“Yeah, I heard. That’s great,” I tell him while my eyes stray over to the door again, watching for Aric and checking to see if Royal is on his knees, pleading for someone to come save him yet. There’s no sign of either man.
I pull my phone out of the clutch purse that’s also borrowed from Hannah to see if there are any messages, but there’s not a damn missed call or text.
What the hell is going on with Aric? Did he change his mind about us and decide he doesn’t want anyone to know we’ve been seeing each other? It’s not very hard to imagine. We’re completely different people. His friends would give him so much shit if they knew that he would probably be miserable.
He could’ve at least had the decency to shoot me a text instead of letting me show up here and wait for him!
“Do you, ah, maybe want to dance?” Blake asks. It takes me several seconds to realize that he’s talking to me. The word no is on the tip of my tongue, but then I think, why not? Why not go dance with Aric’s best friend? He obviously doesn’t care if he’s not here, and I did get all dressed up…
“Okay,” I finally agree.
“O-okay?” Blake stammers, his blue eyes wide in surprise. “You really want to dance? I thought you would tell me to go fuck myself.”
“The night is still young,” I say before I grab his arm and drag him to the dance floor. It’s a slow song, which means there’s less of a chance I’ll look like an idiot. We come to a stop, and then my hands are resting on Blake’s shoulders, my clutch hanging over his shoulder while his hands gently rest on my hips.
“Cool song,” Blake says.
“Yeah,” I agree even though I have no idea what it is. “So, um, where’s your BFF?”
“Who? Aric?” he asks.
“Yeah, Aric.”
“No clue. We waited for him after the game, but he disappeared.”
“So, he left and went home?” I ask.
“Guess so. I can’t remember if his car was still in the parking lot or not,” he replies before his brow furrows. “What’s with all the questions about Aric?”
Again, I open my mouth to say one thing, and yet another comes out.
“Aric and I have been seeing each other for weeks.”
There. It’s out.
That was the plan all along for coming here tonight. It was Aric’s fucking idea, and yet he must have chickened out. I’m crushed and maybe I want to do a little crushing of my own. Aric didn’t want Blake to find out about us because of his stupid crush. Now the cat is out of the bag, and I don’t give a shit if I cause problems between the two friends.
“What was that?” Blake asks, leaning so close to my ear that I can feel the brush of his lips.
“I said I’ve been seeing Aric. He comes over to my house after practice every day and we fool around together. He invited me to come to this stupid dance as his date!”
“Bullshit,” Blake snaps.
I remove my hands from him and take a step back. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Aric wouldn’t…” he starts. But if there’s anything I hate more than being called a slut, it’s being called a liar.
I’m removing my phone from my clutch a second later and then pulling up the pictures. Not the ones of Aric with Blake’s mother, which would be too devastating, but the ones of Aric mowing my grass, folding my panties, taking a selfie with me in bed Sunday after he gave me a few more orgasms. I shove them in Blake’s shocked face one by one. “There. Believe me now?”
“How…what…why wouldn’t he tell me?” Blake exclaims.
“Because he said you would be pissed at him, so he wanted to keep us a secret, from you and everyone else.”
“Holy shit,” the stricken boy mutters while rubbing the back of his neck, his thousand-yard stare saying he’s lost in thought.
“I’m, ah, gonna go check on Hannah,” I say before I hurry off the dance floor, cramming my phone into my purse as I stalk toward the door.
“Maddie, wait!” Blake calls out but I’m already stepping into the night air, searching for my friend, hoping she’ll get me the hell out of here.
Out front there are a few people leaning against cars in the lot, probably drinking or getting high, but there’s no sign of Hannah.
Then I hear it – a woman screaming before it’s suddenly muffled mid-shriek.
Hannah.
I just know it’s her, and that dickhead is hurting her!
The noise sounded nearby and off to the right, so I jog as fast as I can in heels toward that side of the building.
“Hannah?” I call out as I round the corner. “Hannah, are you okay? If not, I will kill that miserable piece of –”
My feet hit the brakes as my eyes try to take in the scene before me. It’s so dark it’s hard to see, but my heart drops to my stomach as I try to make sense of it.
Royal has the side of Hannah’s face pressed against the bricks, his hand covering her mouth. Her gold dress glows in the night and it’s even shorter than before…up around her waist.
“Oh my god!” I gasp when I finally realize what’s going on. My legs unfreeze, and then I’m charging forward, shoving into the side of Royal to get him off of her. He stumbles backward several feet, his pale dick flopping around still hanging out of his pants.
“What is wrong with you, you-you sick fucking pervert?” I yell as I give him another shove, one that trips him up on his lowered pants and sends him down on his ass.
“Royal? Maddie?” Blake asks when he joins us.
“Maddie!” Hannah shouts my name from behind me.
“Are you okay?” I ask when I turn around, expecting her to throw herself into my arms while sobbing. Instead, she just tugs her dress back down and smooths it into place.
“I’m fine,” she says. “What are you doing out here?”
I look back and forth between her and Royal, who Blake is helping to his feet.
“I…I thought he was…”
“Fuc
king her?” Royal finishes for me. “Yeah, I was. Not my fault she screams like a fucking banshee when she comes.”
“You were…you wanted it?” I ask Hannah in disbelief.
“I plead temporary insanity,” she mutters, her palms still fussing over her dress. “We can go now if you want.”
“You sure about that?” I ask with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Oh, yeah,” she agrees before she starts walking toward the parking lot. “I finished even if he didn’t.”
And together we leave the dance with my heart broken and my mind officially blown because everything is all fucked up.
Chapter 28
Aric
I’m soaring around the ceiling of my hospital room. Or at least that’s how it feels. I’m light and happy, free of all but a dull throb in my shoulder after the doc popped it back into the socket. Still, there’s something in the back of my mind that keeps nagging me. Something I’m forgetting.
“Dude, why didn’t you tell us you were going to the hospital? We found out from Facebook,” Royal says when his and Blake’s face float in front of me.
“Kidnapped by my parents,” I tell them.
“I hate you got hurt again,” Royal replies, but he’s looking at the wall on my left and not me. “How bad is it this time?”
“I’m done. So. Fucking. Done.” No more football. No more practices or busting my ass in the weight room. I’m free. I vaguely remember telling my mom and dad before my MRI that I was going to sign up for the firefighter academy after graduation. Or maybe I dreamed it. Either way, I am done with football. I don’t want to go to college either.
Maddie would be proud of me for finally being more than a joke. I think she would be at least. Wait, where the hell is Maddie? I want her here.
“You got anything else you want to tell us?” Blake asks, pulling me out of the depths of my own thoughts. His face is crinkled, all red and angry and shit like someone pissed in his cereal when I’m the one in the fucking hospital.
