One thing was absolutely clear to me. I was messed up over him, and I needed to get control of myself before my game.
But then I got a text from Maddie after lunch. It was a picture of Jason and Brielle. Holding hands.
“What the heck?” The question burst out of me like a geyser exploding. Unfortunately, I was in English class.
“Amber?” My teacher, Mrs. Banks, was looking at me with a mixture of surprise and irritation.
My cheeks heated. “Sorry. I…” What did I even say?
“Put your phone away. I’m sure you can survive without looking at it till after class.”
I doubted it. It literally felt like I might die as I put my phone away. But I didn’t need my phone. The picture I’d seen was burned into my mind’s eye.
Thoughts swirled through my head.
I was right. He did like her.
I was wrong. He didn’t like me.
It’s over. He belongs to someone else.
I still want him.
I’m an idiot.
By the time I got out of class, I had too many messages to even read: Maddie and Charlotte asking questions, coming up with theories, wondering what I thought, and asking how I was. But I didn’t have time to answer. I had less than five minutes to find Jason and ask him if it was true.
I turned the opposite direction of my next class, not really sure where I was going. Chances were he’d be in one of the classrooms on the other side of the cafeteria. I must have looked fierce because people moved out of my way as if Moses had split the sea in front of me. When I turned down the other hallway, I quickly found Jason, just because he was head and shoulders taller than almost everyone else.
Time seemed to do that weird thing that happens in movies. It didn’t exactly slow down, but I felt every second like a drumbeat. As the crowd continued to move out of my way, I saw her, Brielle, next to him. I stopped and confronted the smirk on her face. Her arm was slung around his hips; his arm was draped over her shoulder. From the look on his face, I was the last person he wanted to see.
That hurt more than anything else.
I walked closer, determined to just be done with this. “I guess…” My voice broke. Dang it. I tried again. “I guess you figured out what I was talking about Saturday night, huh? You should thank me.”
His face turned to stone at the same moment my heart did.
But then he took a step toward me. “Amber—”
Brielle caught his arm, pulling him back. “Babe…”
His eyes shifted to her, and some communication happened between them. Something he didn’t like. Then his nostrils flared, and he turned the other way, shouldering his way through the crowd.
I’d never noticed Brielle at school before, and now I wondered how I’d ever feel anything but disgust coming here every day—like when you discover roaches in the kitchen.
She smiled at me, her head tilted to the side as she batted her eyelashes. “I hope he didn’t break your heart or anything.” Then she turned and caught up to him, looking back at me over her shoulder as she took his arm. Well, let her enjoy her victory lap. And her boyfriend.
For the first time that whole year, I was tardy for class, but I didn’t even care.
In fact, the rest of the day went by in a blur. Including the fact that we had a test in calculus. Wasn’t it ironic that I’d stuck to my rule about not dating despite how excruciating it had been, and now I was just as messed up over it all as if I’d just given in? I wished I had—wished I’d kissed him and held him and called him mine before I’d gotten my heart broken.
When I got home, I fixed myself a big sandwich because I needed protein and calories for the game that night, but I had to force myself to eat it. The package of Oreos in the cabinet promised comfort and sympathy, and it took an iron will to walk away.
My willpower deprived me of a lot of tempting things.
When I came downstairs a little over an hour later, my mom was cooking spaghetti, stirring bubbling red sauce.
“You’re eating dinner at home the one night I won’t be here?”
She slammed the sauce-covered spoon onto the counter. “What did I forget?”
I laughed, and it felt good. “I have a game tonight. But don’t worry. I already ate. Save me some leftovers.” With my gym bag in hand, I headed for the door to the garage.
“Wait. What time? We’ll be there.”
“Six-thirty.”
“Amber, are you okay?”
My fingers clenched around the doorknob, but I stopped. “I had a hard day. That guy—you know who I mean—started dating someone else.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.” She came toward me and pulled me into a hug. It felt good, but if I didn’t step away soon, I would start crying. And I didn’t want to.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll live. And it’s probably for the best.”
“Well, go take all your hurt feelings and anger out on the volleyball at the game.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
The other team had better watch out, because The Hammer was mad and the ball was going to be Brielle’s head.
I was too conflicted over Jason to know if I was mad at him or not. After all, I’d been the one turning him down, right?
When I came out of the locker room into the gym later, wearing my green-and-grey jersey and black spandex shorts, I saw my mom, Ryker, and even Cole in the bleachers. They waved when they saw me. I had to admit, it was nice to have them there. Especially now.
I joined the few teammates who were stretching on the side of the court. A few minutes later, something made me look back up to the bleachers. My eyes instantly connected with Jason’s.
Straightening to my full height, I tried to figure out what was going on. He did that chin nod thing guys do, and walked toward my family.
Ryker recognized him immediately, jumping up and giving him a fist bump. My mom looked like a frozen fish for a few seconds, but when Jason held his hand out to her, her manners overcame her shock and she shook it. As Jason shook Cole’s hand, she looked at me and threw out her hands, clearly asking, What’s going on?
But I had no idea.
After tipping my whole world out of balance, Jason climbed a few steps and sat on the bleachers just behind my family. He leaned back, propping himself up with his elbows, looking like a care-for-nobody jock. Blast his broad shoulders and inscrutable expression.
“You going to hit some balls?” Maya called over to me.
Since she was the setter, we warmed up together. I clenched my teeth and walked over to her. The pressure of playing in front of a crowd had never bothered me, but I could feel Jason’s eyes on me, and that was way different than a hundred other people at once.
Taking a deep breath, I tugged my spandex down—this was no time for them to be riding up—and nodded to Maya that I was ready.
The ball is Brielle.
Reaching deeply inside myself, I dragged up enough focus that I wouldn’t disgrace myself in the game. I even got enough heat behind one hit to make Maya whistle. “The Hammer is feeling fierce today, ladies.”
The other team served first. In the moment before the serve, I made the stupid, stupid mistake of glancing toward Jason. He was leaning forward now, watching closely.
What the heck was he doing here? What was going on?
“Amber!”
Snapping back to the game, I realized too late that the ball had been set to me. I jerked forward, but too late. I just whiffed. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but I glared at Jason. He smirked at me from the stands and raised an eyebrow. If I could have gotten to him right then, I might have beaten him up just like he beat on Troy at the beach. But picturing myself straddling his chest and staring down at him did not help my focus. I growled in frustration. Maya’s eyes widened as she took a step back from me.
Reaching up, I tightened my ponytail. Because that was what I did when things went wrong; I went on the attack.
The next ball with my name on it practic
ally left sparks when it hit the court, just out of reach of the player on the other team diving for it. After that, I was in the zone. I sank into the space in my head that felt nothing but strength and knew nothing but focus. My muscles responded in perfect unison with the battle tempo of my heart that drowned out the shouts and cheers around me. When the first set ended with an eight-point differential, the sound of my teammates chanting “Hammer, Hammer, Hammer” broke through the shield on my thoughts.
I walked to the bench, my legs and arms pulsing, my lungs heaving, and grabbed a water bottle. A trickle of sweat prickled against my skin as it ran down from my forehead. I picked up a towel and wiped it away and then allowed myself one look across the court. Jason’s lips formed a whistle I couldn’t hear, and he shook his head as if amazed.
He was impressed. Well, he could eat his heart out. I had a game to play.
We took the next set too, easily. It was one of my best games ever, even though I landed badly on my ankle a few serves into the second set. When we lined up to shake hands with the other team, I pressed my lips together and walked carefully on it but tried not to limp too obviously.
“That was quite a game,” Coach Snyder said, coming up to me as I headed slowly for the locker room.
“Thanks.”
“You know, you can look happy about winning.”
I forced a smile. “Oh, I am.”
“Ice that ankle before you go home.”
Sighing, I nodded. Of course she had noticed. Well, that would give me an excuse to hang out in the locker room until Jason left. My family wouldn’t wait for me, since we’d come in different cars, so I could take my time.
I opened my locker and stripped off my jersey, handing it to the manager, who was collecting them. I grabbed a towel and stood in front of the mirror in my sports bra, wiping my heated skin with cool water. My teammates were all in a great mood, and though they all told me “good game,” they mostly left me alone. I was glad for it, since chatting was the last thing I wanted to do.
The manager came back with an ice pack for me. I took off my shoes and socks, stretched my leg out along a bench and positioned the ice pack over my ankle. The cold hurt and felt good at the same time. I dropped my head back, appreciating that the locker room was quiet now. But in the quiet, my control over my thoughts slipped, taking me back into dangerous channels.
Did Brielle know he’d come to my game? Did he care if she did?
Was there a chance that he still liked me? I’d figured that protecting Brielle from Troy had made him realize how much he actually cared for her. Whatever he’d felt for me had just been some passing flirtation that he’d moved on from as soon as he realized what his true feelings were.
But him showing up to watch my game did not mesh with that theory.
Arg. I could obsess over it all day. But I’d iced my ankle long enough, and a hot shower and my bed were calling my name.
After dropping my ice pack in the trash and pulling on a clean T-shirt, I slipped my feet into some slides and grabbed my bag. But when I exited the locker room, Jason was leaning against the wall, just as he’d done last week.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you play.”
“Okay. You saw me. Why’d you wait around?”
“I want to talk to you.” His voice had a flick of sarcasm in it.
I raised an eyebrow. “Do you?” I kept walking. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I’d be surprised if you did.” He fell into step beside me. “So they call you The Hammer?”
“Yeah. So?”
“After watching you play, I can see why. Dang, girl. Were you trying to take off the other team’s heads or something?”
“Something like that.”
“That was hotter than—”
It was too much. I spun toward him. “What do you want, Jason? Because trust me. You don’t want to mess with me right now.”
He almost smiled. Almost. “Don’t be too sure about that.”
I dropped my bag on the ground. “What is this? Stop screwing around with my feelings.”
His eyes lowered, and his jaw flexed tightly. “Sorry.” Then he looked down at me, his blue eyes sparking fire. “Look, there’s a lot I can’t say right now. Too much. I didn’t think you’d care so much, but now that I know you do, it changes everything. Just…can you give me some time?”
“Time? For what? For how long? And what happens at the end of it?”
He flinched as I pelted him with questions. “I don’t know. Just...don’t give up on me.”
He turned away then, striding to his truck. His stupid ugly truck that I knew would smell like old leather and his cologne. As he drove past where I still stood like an angry statue, he tipped the bill of his ratty ball cap at me.
If I’d had something to throw right then, I would have.
Thoroughly confused, I went to my car and sat there in silence, afraid that if I moved I would break. I hated when he spoke in riddles. Why couldn’t he just speak clearly, tell me what he was thinking? If I was going to get over this, I needed to know what was going on, what had happened. Dealing with the pain of rejection would sting, but this not knowing was worse somehow.
Being the glutton for punishment that I was, I got out my phone and looked at the picture of us again. The orange glow of the campfire on our faces was cool compared to the expression on his face when he looked at me. It gave me butterflies just looking at it. Was that really the way a guy looks at a girl if he’s just flirting with her?
Curious now, I pulled up the photo of Jason and Brielle that Maddie had sent me that morning. I’d been too focused on his hand holding hers and the hurt that nearly choked me to look at their faces. But now I did.
Something warm burst in my chest.
There was nothing on his face. Nothing. It was the look he got when he was hiding his feelings. If he liked Brielle, wouldn’t he look happy to be with her? Or something?
My eyebrows twitched together. What had he said? Don’t give up on me.
I tossed my phone onto the seat and started my car. No. I wouldn’t give up on him. But I wasn’t going to just sit around either while Brielle did whatever she wanted with my guy.
11
The next day after practice, I hurried out to the parking lot. I didn’t want to see Jason in the hallway. No, this next conversation was going to happen on my terms.
I knew Jason well enough by now to guess that he didn’t keep his truck locked. I was right. Slipping in the passenger door, I put my bag on the floorboards, got my phone out and leaned back in the seat with my feet up on the dash to wait for him.
I waited a long time. All around, I heard the sound of cars leaving. After a while, I chuckled, realizing that maybe he was waiting inside for me. “What are you doing, Jason? Waiting around to see me even when you have a girlfriend?”
After a while, the driver’s door jerked open. I turned to face him in time to see the grumpy expression on his face shift to surprise.
“Hey,” I said. “I’ve been waiting for you. Drive me home?”
He turned around and looked at my car, which was parked near his truck. But he didn’t argue.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, I watched him out of the corner of my eyes. He kept looking from my long bare legs to my face and back to the road. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I have a hoodie on,” I pointed out.
“I noticed. It’s mine.”
I looked down at it, pretending to be surprised. “Oh yeah, huh? Besides, I always need to cool down after practice. Don’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “Today more than usual.”
I smiled, enjoying the victorious satisfaction that swept over me with his implication. Yeah, he wasn’t immune to me at all.
“Amber, what are you doing?”
“Funny how things flip. Now it’s you asking all the questions and me keeping the secrets.”
He gave a frust
rated sound. “So this is payback? Revenge?”
I let my feet slip down to the floorboards and sat up. I put the visor down and reached into my—his—hoodie pocket for the lip gloss I’d put there. Leaning forward, I put the gloss on my lips with careful attention, as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Only when I was done, did I turn and answer him. “Not at all.” I turned in my seat, angling towards him.
I’d spent a lot of time the night before researching how to flirt. Body language, smiling, touching, teasing, and using your eyes were universally recommended. But facing him, the tricks I’d been practicing the night before to make my eyes look luminous and innocent but interested all got lost. Instead, I just kept focusing on the features that made him so attractive to me…the boyish spikes to his hair where he’d run his fingers through the sweaty strands, the sculpted lines of his cheekbones, and his square but full lips. Apparently utter fascination did the trick too because he blew out a frustrated breath.
He stopped at an intersection and looked at me. “Okay, look. Maybe I deserve this. I don’t know. But can you just take it easy on me? Huh?”
“What are you talking about?” Yeah, I noticed the way he kept focusing on my lips. It was working.
He shook his head and thumped his hand against the wheel. “You’re driving me crazy here, woman.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have felt such a thrill when he said that—the way his voice rasped over the word ‘woman’—but I did. He felt this magnetic attraction too. But I needed to know more. Was there something more here than just physical attraction? I opened up the locked door to my deepest emotions and fears. “We’re still friends, right? I hoped we’d have at least that much.”
“Friends.” He said the word like a curse.
I turned away, looking forward. “Okay. Got it.”
His hand shot out, but he caught himself and dropped it onto the steering wheel again. “Wait, no. Yes. Yes, we can be friends. I don’t know how to do that, but I’ll try.”
In any other context, that would have hurt my feelings. But I knew what he meant. “Good. It probably works out better anyway.” I stared at him until he gave in and looked back. “I don’t think you’re a safe person to fall in love with.”
Flirting with the Bad Boy Page 7
