Jake must feel me staring, or so I like to imagine, because he looks at me. Something flashes across his face. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something to me. I can feel my heart racing. How can he make me feel this by just opening his mouth?
“Howell, beer’s gone!” he shouts.
I exhale when he turns away. Obviously I’m only asking for trouble. Jake will never see me the way I want him to see me. I move over toward my brother, who I’m seeing for the first time tonight, and he raises an eyebrow in my direction as if to ask me what’s wrong. It’s annoying sometimes to feel like he knows me enough to look at me and see I’m bothered. Weird as it is, there’s also a lot of comfort in that. I don’t have to try with him, or worry about what he will think, or if he will be there when I need him. We tell each other like it is when we need to, and no one has his back more than me, and vice versa. We shared a womb. He knows me better than I know myself, even when it’s annoying.
Jake starts howling into the air.
“You should take it easy, man,” my brother says.
“I’m good, man. Beer me,” Jake says.
Chris sighs. “You’re going hard tonight.”
“I’ll get it myself,” Jake says, but changes his mind two wobbly steps later.
I move over and sit beside Reyes. He is reading on his phone. “What are you looking at?”
His eyes widen. “A new fan fiction.”
That’s all he says to me, then he goes back to his story. Okay then.
“This party is lame,” Shelby Kramer says loud enough for everyone to hear her. For whatever reason, she stands here with her hands crossed over her chest, and her best friend mimics her. Besides Shelby’s legacy status as a Belle, I don’t think she even likes any of us.
“You can always leave,” Jake yells across the way to her. She flips him off. He flips her off.
There’s a space next to Georgia Ann and Beau. I can dart out and back into the other people. I’m about to stand when I feel Jake looking at me. Abby is still touching him too close, too much, but his eyes are on me for a second. Then he groans and swallows down his whole beer in one go. The sound of popping glass and leftover alcohol is loud. It makes Reyes jump up from the ground and yell at Jake. He reaches in the cooler, but it’s empty.
“Where has the beer gone?”
Chris moves from his seat to help Jake. “You don’t need more right now. Take a break.”
“Why, bro? It’s the last day of summer vacation! I’ll take a break tomorrow.”
“We have practice tomorrow.”
Jake cusses under his breath. “All the more reason to drink while I can. I’ll sober up tomorrow at practice.”
Chris, Will, Beau, and Spencer all exchange a look, and Jake sees it, too, because he points between them. “Don’t do that shit. Don’t talk about me.”
“No one said anything, man,” Will argues.
“You don’t have to. You said it with your eyes. I’m not that drunk yet.”
“Yeah, you are,” Chris says.
“Nah, man. No. If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be able to do this…” Jake jumps up to stand on the top of the cooler and balances on one foot. “A, B, C, D…”
He goes through the whole alphabet, and no one stops him. I’m not really sure what his problem is. When he gets to Z, he bows and nearly falls over. “That doesn’t count! Beer!”
But no one moves. Jake flips them all off. “I’m out of here,” he says, and he stumbles away from our group and back into the rest of the party. Chris sighs, his shoulders tense. “He’ll be back in a minute.”
But he doesn’t come back. Twenty minutes later, he hasn’t returned or answered his phone or even done anything to garner the whole party’s attention in some drunk Jake fashion.
“We should probably go find him,” Spencer suggests.
Chris nods, and without another word, the group of us splits apart and goes off on the search for Jake. At this point in our lives, we don’t even need to coordinate. We’re all old pros at this game.
I’m only a few feet away from the bonfire when I stumble on Shelby Kramer talking with a couple of cheerleaders, Jessica and Sara Lynn, both of whom have asked me for tips on dating my brother.
“He used to be fun and sweet, now he’s a big douchebag,” Shelby says.
“I know. I can’t believe I used to like him,” Sara Lynn adds.
“Bless his heart, it’s not really his fault. I can’t imagine not being able to walk anymore,” Jessica says.
“You know, no one has even seen his brother in months. Is he even alive anymore?” Sara Lynn asks.
“My nana said they made the town stop sending food. Rejected everyone in town and called us nosy,” Jessica says.
Shelby tsks. “It’s a shame, really. Jake Lexington used to be pretty awesome. Now he’s nothing more than a drunk douchebag angry that he has a cripple brother.”
“Shut up,” I yell, stepping in between the three of them. They all look surprised to even know I was there. I’m not really one to start something, but these girls are making me mad. “Seriously? None of you know Jake or his family or what they’re going through. You should all shut up right now.”
“You don’t know anything, either,” Shelby says.
“I know enough not to be an insensitive bitch about it,” I yell. Shelby actually backs away from me. “I thought you were leaving? You should take your friends with you.”
Shelby scowls at me before she leaves, and the other girls follow behind her. I’m semi-shaking from the confrontation when I turn around and come face-to-face with Jake.
At first, he doesn’t say anything, but a second later he smiles. “Did I just hear Other Howell cuss out Shelby Kramer in my honor?”
I feel the blush spread across my cheeks. Only Jake calls me that. It’s kind of annoying, but it’s also a little endearing. “She was out of line. They all were.”
He crosses his arms and studies me. He doesn’t seem nearly as drunk as we thought he was before. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I didn’t either,” I say quickly.
Jake Lexington is staring at me so intensely, it’s getting awkward. I feel frozen in place, even though I also have the urge to run. He steps up closer to me and says, “I’m impressed.” Then he’s pulling me toward him, and he whispers in my ear. “Thank you, Other Howell.”
Jake Lexington is hugging me. He has never hugged me before. His arms are wrapped around me, holding me against his chest. His body is warm against me.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers, and his lips linger close to my neck. His breath gives me chills. Jake is paying attention to me, and he said I was amazing. I feel like I’m dreaming, like I’m floating. This is what Abby meant about magic.
When Jake pulls away, he wavers on his feet, and I miss the embrace immediately. I wish I had been in his arms longer. God. This is ridiculous. Get yourself together, Haley Elizabeth Howell.
“Hey, you found him!” Chris yells, running up to the two of us. “Good job.”
I nod, and Jake looks at me again.
“Yeah, she’s really something else,” he says. He flashes me a smile.
They leave me standing there, reeling in the exchange we had. Maybe Abby was right.
Maybe tonight is made of magic.
Chapter Three
Jake
I’m covered in something wet. Why am I covered in something wet? My arm is pinned down under my own back; when I try to get up, my whole body is asleep. I can’t get a break. I open my eyes, and the sky is over me, blue and too damn bright. My head is pounding like a fucking Mack truck ran me over, backed up, and ran over me again.
Jesus.
I’m all muddy. I reach into my pockets for my phone or my keys, but there’s nothing there. Shit. Was Howell here last night? He has this habit of taking my keys. He has some sense of responsibility to make sure I’m not totally stupid. Maybe it’s because he’s the quarterback, he’s the glue for th
e team, Coach’s right hand. Maybe it’s because he’s my best friend and he knows all my shit. I can’t even tell the difference sometimes.
I remember him being here. By the bonfire. I was pretty drunk by the time he got here, but we talked. I think.
Where are my keys?
Think, Jake.
I get to my feet, and my head feels fuzzy and heavy. My stomach feels queasy. Maybe I’m hungry. I never have a hangover anymore.
Usually when this happens, the guys put my keys in my car. That has to be the case again, since they left me out here. I think I remember where my car is. I stumble a little as I walk toward what used to be the bonfire. Now it’s burnt wood and trailing, dying smoke with a shit ton of red Solo cups and empty beer bottles around. Just like that, summer is officially over.
Other Howell cussed out Shelby Kramer last night. I do remember that. I think it’s the last thing I remember, actually. I’m used to forgetting. I actually prefer it most days, since it means I get a damned break from remembering.
My truck is unlocked and, like usual, my keys and my phone are inside the cupholder. I look at it, and a text from Newman says, Had to keep you safe man. See you at practice.
This is Howell’s handiwork. He’s trained the other guys on the team to make sure I’m taken care of and safe. I’d be lost without my best friend. He’s been supporting me since before the accident, and definitely since it happened.
I turn the car on as a text from Howell pops in on my phone. Practice in 30 minutes. You better be there.
I look at the time. Shit.
My head is spinning, my stomach churning, and there’s no way I can be late. Coach will murder me.
I make it to practice by the skin of my teeth. The team is already huddled on the field, and Howell gives me a nod when he sees me. I jog faster toward him, my practice pads already sticking to me. Coach Tucker is looking at his watch, one hand on his hip. The other coaches are beside him, whispering to each other. Coach makes eye contact with me as I slip into the huddle. He looks pissed off. Shit.
“You made it, son,” he says to me. “Barely.” I hold back the urge to roll my eyes. “Practice starts now. In the future, that means the whole team has been here ten minutes at least and you’re already sweating. Clear?”
“Yes sir!” everyone says in agreement. Even me.
“I know we won state last year, but that doesn’t mean we get to rest. It means we come back stronger, we practice more, and we play harder. You want to win again?” he yells. The team cheers back. We do love to win. I love to win. I played my heart out at that game—we all did. The team was one, and we came back from fourteen points down in the last quarter. No one saw it coming. Not even us. A lot happened unexpectedly that night.
“Then start acting like winners right now.” Coach Tucker blows his whistle. “Ten laps, go.” I groan internally. I’m probably not alone. None of us would ever let it out in front of Coach—not during the first practice of the season. We know better. He’d make our lives hell.
It’s already hot and it’s barely nine in the morning. My heart races, and I’m sweatier than usual, probably from the hangover. Howell runs up beside me, and he doesn’t seem to be sweating nearly as much as I am.
“You okay? You went pretty hard last night.”
I know it. I never feel this shitty. “Dandy,” I say.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, man.”
That’s all we say. Partly ’cause it’s hot and humid and we’re too exhausted. Partly ’cause Coach doesn’t really allow for social hour during practice, his words. If he saw us he’d punish the whole team. That’s how he does it. One person screws up, everyone pays.
Coach Tucker blows the double whistle, and we all run to our sides of the field. Defense is thrown a blue jersey. I guess playtime is over. Coach Tucker and Coach Doug circle in with the offense.
“We’re running Yellow Fever,” Coach Tucker says.
“Sounds fun,” Shane Griggs, one of our team’s defensive linemen, says.
Coach Tucker smiles. “Oh, it will be, boys; it will be.”
At the end of practice, I rip off my helmet and chug some water.
“We can go to Lou’s,” Newman says.
“We always go to Lou’s,” Shane Griggs says. “I’d like some pizza some day.”
“You hating on Lou’s?” Will Montgomery asks.
Howell slides into the leader role without even thinking or having to try.
“Lou loves us. He gives us a discount,” Howell says.
The others all nod in agreement. I don’t know why Griggs even argues anymore. We always go to Lou’s. We practically have our own booths.
“You in?” Newman calls to me.
I nod. “I could eat.” I could always eat.
I shake the sweat out of my long hair. I need a shower. We all head toward the lockers, but Coach Tucker yells my name.
Shit.
He’s over at me faster than I can blink.
“Coach?” I say.
“Jake, you ready for this?”
“Yes, sir.”
He gives me a look. We both know I’m not, but I’m here anyway. “I need you to stay focused, son.”
“The game is my life.”
Coach shakes his head. “Not the game, Jake. Life, school, responsibilities. Like we talked about after Jamie.”
“Got it,” I say.
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “I hope you do. You need to talk about anything?”
The only adult who gives a shit about me is Coach Tucker. To everyone else, I’m the other Lexington, number 81. I’m responsible for the QB and the ball. That’s all the fuck anyone cares about in this town: football. I don’t blame them, I love it, too, but sometimes I want something else to matter.
“No, sir.”
He gives me a side-eye. “Not even about how you reek of alcohol right now?”
I don’t dare say anything about that.
“You ever come on this field drunk during a game, and I mean one time, you’re benched.”
“Coach—”
“I won’t have you ruining things for your teammates, or disrespecting me or them or this game or yourself. One time, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
He hands me a folded paper.
“What is this?”
“Community service.”
Shit. I forgot that was even happening.
“I guess the reckoning came after all.”
“Don’t cop an attitude, son. You’re lucky that’s all Principal Finkle ordered after the stunt you pulled last year.” Coach doesn’t raise his voice. He has this even-keeled tone that I already know means trouble. I’ve heard it enough. End of the school year, after the accident, I gave up on everything. I only came to school because Howell came and pulled me out of bed every morning. I was usually hungover when I was here. That day, I was still a little drunk and I cussed out a teacher. I would’ve been expelled on the spot if Coach hadn’t stepped in.
“You are getting a chance here, you hear me? Fulfill your duties and do your homework.”
“I will do my homework.”
“You didn’t before,” he says. I start to protest. That was different. He knows that it was. “Last semester everyone was forgiving, but this year they won’t be. This was Principal Finkle’s requirement to let you stay on the team.”
I groan. “Yes, sir.”
Coach Tucker puts his hand on my shoulder. “Good on you, son. I’m here if you need me, anything and anytime. Day or night. Don’t get into trouble.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go take a shower. I’ll see you Monday after school.”
I nod and fold the paper up into a little square. I don’t want to spend my Saturday mornings at community services, especially after football games the night before, but that’s the order. Eight Saturdays, starting next week. Football is all I have now. This team is my family. I’ll do whatever stupid shit I have to in order t
o stay with them.
Before – Jake
We’ve been drinking for hours. I don’t know what time it is anymore, but my classmates keep passing around shots, and someone will yell something and everyone will cheer in response and we all down another one. I didn’t really like whiskey before tonight. But there’s something about it that hits the spot. Makes it more of a cause for celebration.
I wish Jamie was here to drink with us. He started out here, but he left. His girlfriend is going to college. They’re already headed to the same school, but she’s been hanging around town for the last semester, trying to wait for him; apparently she couldn’t do it anymore. She leaves tomorrow.
Howell rests his arm across my shoulder. Even he is drunk tonight. “We won state!” he yells in my ear.
“I know! We are the fucking champs!” I call back.
Howell hugs me, cheers, and runs off down the crowd, high-fiving everyone he can. It’s hilarious. Someone refills my drink, not sure who, and there’s cheering again, and that’s my cue. I down it quick, and my throat burns. Man, alcohol is good.
I don’t know where my keys are, and I can’t find Howell—did he leave already? Why didn’t he take me with him? I also can’t find my phone. Where did that thing go?
“Bro,” Jamie says from behind me. I turn around and it makes the trees spin.
“Jamie!” I yell. “You came back!”
He shakes his head. “You smell like a brewery pissed on you.” I laugh. My brother is so funny. “I’m gonna take you home now.”
I back up slowly, shaking my head. “I don’t wanna go yet. It’s a celebration! We fucking won state!” I yell the last bit, and the yells come back. It’s not as loud anymore.
“I know we did; I was there. We were awesome, but let’s celebrate some more tomorrow.”
“I don’t wanna go.”
“Not even for Taco Bell?”
The Crush Collision Page 2
