Ali & the Too Hot, Up-to-No Good, Very Beastly Boy: A Standalone Sweet YA Romance (Jackson High Series Book 1)

by M. L. Collins

  I threw myself onto one of the lounge chairs and stared up at the sky. The light scattering of stars overhead were a painful reminder—a pale mockery—of what I’d had with Ali.

  What I couldn’t avoid was the fact that Ali did dislike me at first. Strongly disliked. But I would have sworn that changed. Grown into something altogether different. Two people caring about each other. Slowly and tentatively spreading roots deeper. Stronger. Dazzling in the starlight. Being with Ali had felt like fresh air and sunshine. Honest. Real.

  That’s what got me—everything with Ali had felt real. The joke was on me because based on her video and that photo it had all been a lie. Dammit. It hadn’t felt like a lie. And just like that, anger horse-collared all my other emotions, clawing its way up my chest like a hulking monster.

  “Hey, Dax.” It was Paige, standing a few feet away. She moved closer until she stood right next to my chair. “Are you okay?”

  “Yep. Absolutely fine.” I moved quickly, swinging my legs around until I was sitting on the side of the lounger, legs splayed in a “V” and feet on the ground ready to make a quick exit. Paige was the last person I wanted to talk with right now. Okay, maybe the second to last.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened.” She sat next to me, so close our arms rubbed together. “It wasn’t your fault. She fooled everyone, but a person can’t hide who they are.”

  “No, I guess not,” I said.

  “It always comes out in the end.” Paige slid her hand onto my thigh, moving closer until our faces were only a foot apart. “You’ve got to be careful who you trust.”

  Needing space, I leaned forward away from her touch, rested my elbows on my knees, and stared down at my hands clasped in front of me.

  “You think you know someone and then they show you who they really are.”

  You know me. You do. You know me.

  “That girl has some nerve. To think you lost the game because of her. I know how much you hate to lose. You have every right to be angry. The whole team is pissed about it.”

  No kidding. My stomach clenched thinking about the conversation still to come with my teammates.

  “I guess the rumors about her were true,” Paige said with a shake of her head.

  “What rumors?”

  “That everyone at Cox hated her. She must get off on attention. Why else risk becoming the most hated girl at Jackson too?”

  “Not to be rude, but I don’t want to talk about it.” I turned my head to glance at Paige, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. “I don’t even want to think about it right now.”

  “I understand. But if you ever need someone to listen, or you know, whatever, I’m here for you.” She rubbed her hand on my shoulder and then slid it down to squeeze my biceps. She leaned in close, so close I could feel her breath on my face. “I’m always here for you, Dax.”

  Whoa, no. If someone yelled snake, I couldn’t have stood any faster. I mean, I flew out of the chair and put lots of air between us. I knew what she was offering. You know what she was offering, right? You might find this hard to believe, being that I’m a jock and all, but I didn’t even have to think about her offer.

  Not for a second.

  Sure, I was an angry mess right now, but doing “whatever” with Paige was the last thing I needed. Or wanted. Ali had run a stake through my heart. It was going to take time for my heart to heal. Especially because right now, I wasn’t sure she hadn’t delivered a fatal blow.

  28

  That’s Not How This Works

  Ali

  11:05 p.m.

  I’d taken an Uber home since Dax was supposed to be my ride. Maybe I’m some sort of masochist because I spent the duration of the ride scrolling through all the lovely comments and suggestions about what I should do to myself, where I should go, and basically what an all-around horrific person I was on my Facebook page. There was something about all that ugliness that took my mind off of Dax.

  I’d hoped to slide quietly in the door and disappear in my room, but Dad was sitting at the kitchen island eating one of his three-inch-high sandwich concoctions.

  “Hey, Ali-Cat. I thought I wouldn’t see you until after midnight.”

  “Well, here I am. Ta-da.”

  “How was it? Did you have a fun time?”

  “The dancing was fun.” That was true.

  “And?” He had his proud papa grin on his face. “Are you going to tell me who won Mr. and Ms. Jackalope?”

  “Oh, I have no idea. I left before it was announced.”

  “Why would you do that? Both you and Dax were nominated.”

  “About that…Dax and I are over.”

  “Over?”

  “Yep.” My lips didn’t even wobble and my voice was steady.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Nope. Not really.”

  “Al—”

  “Honest, Dad. I’m good.” I faked a yawn and walked down the hallway to my room.

  If you thought I was escaping to my room to cry—you’d be wrong. No tears. No anger. No anything. I was downright stoic. As I changed into sweats and a T-shirt, I mentally prepped for the solo expedition I’d be making through the rest of senior year. Brick by brick, I’d rebuild the wall around my heart. The one I’d torn down to let Dax in.

  I fell face first onto my bed, like a falling tree after a chain saw slices through its trunk.

  This was nothing new. I’d been here before.

  So Dax hated me.

  So the football team hated me.

  So the whole school hated me.

  Whatever.

  I only had to get through—how many more days? I had no idea. When had I stopped counting? I did some quick math…one-hundred five more days.

  “Ali?” Dad knocked on my door. “Someone’s here to see you.”

  Dax? My heart lurched and I flipped onto my back, blinking up at the ceiling while something light and frothy bubbled up in my chest. Until I recalled his cold, hard eyes staring into mine. No. It wasn’t Dax. “I’m not really up for—”

  “Giiirrrl, I’m not leaving.” Shani sounded like she had her face pressed against the other side of my door. “So either let me in or I’ll hang out and watch the Say Yes to the Dress marathon with your dad.”

  “Ali, honey, if you have any love in your heart for me, you’ll open the door.”

  I opened it to save my dad and let Shani in, only all the girls spilled in behind her.

  “How are you doing?” Mari ran her worried gaze over my face.

  “I’m fine.”

  “She’s not fine,” Bhakti said.

  “Why wouldn’t I be fine?” I grabbed Mr. Pinky, the stuffed rabbit I’d had since fourth grade, hugging him into my chest. “I lost a guy I should never have been with in the first place. The entire school hates me for selling out our football team. Due to the photographic evidence, there is a one-hundred percent chance I’ll be having a heart-to-heart talk with Principal Barstow on Monday.”

  “I doubt everyone hates you,” Gaby said.

  I picked up my phone, brought up my Facebook page, and handed it to Gaby. They all moved in to look.

  “Oh boy.” Rowena frowned.

  “Oh my. Okay, so you’re right. Everyone hates you,” Bhakti said.

  “Who cares if everyone hates her?” Shani asked.

  I shrugged. “Well, it’s not fun…”

  “What I mean is we’ve got bigger things to discuss,” Shani said.

  “Um…bigger than Dax DeLeon turning out to be a jerk and”—Mari grabbed my phone from Gaby—“two-hundred thirty seven hate filled comments on her Facebook page?”

  My stomach churned at the number. Déjà vomit.

  “Yes!” Shani said. “Who swapped out Ali’s video and how did they make that fake one?”

  I cleared my throat. “Those were clips from my video diary. Random clips spliced together to make it sound, well, not random.”

  “Isn’t that on your private YouTube channel?”
Rowena asked.

  “Yeah. And you guys are the only ones I told.” My gaze ran around the room, looking at each face, wondering if one of them was involved. My gut said no, but my head…

  “Whoa, Ali. You can’t think one of us told anyone about your video diary.” Gaby frowned at me. “We’d never do that.”

  “You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s okay,” I said. “It’s done. I’ve been through this before. I’ll be fine. You all should go home.”

  “What are you talking about?” Shani asked.

  “I was the only one in the photo. You guys are out of it.”

  “That’s not how this works,” Bhakti said. “We’re your friends. Good times. Bad times. You’re stuck with us.”

  “Ugh.” I threw my hands in the air which accidently sent Mr. Pinky sailing across the room. “I don’t want you all to become targets because of me.”

  “Sorry, but it’s not up to you.” Gaby plopped onto my bed, making herself comfortable like she wasn’t leaving any time soon.

  “But—”

  “Nope.” Mari shook her head. “We’re all in this together. But here’s the thing—you’re going to have to trust us.”

  I still felt beat up from the last time the people I thought I could trust had abandoned me. My friends. My own mother. Trust never worked out well for me. Except for my dad, not ever really.

  “Hey, don’t look like that. You never talked about it, but we heard the rumors about what happened at Cox. We’re not like your old friends.”

  “That’s right! We don’t abandon our friends. That’s a promise.”

  Not once during this whole evening had I broken. Not one single tear.

  Until now. Cue the waterworks. Pressure built behind my eyes and my throat felt like the time I’d accidently swallowed a cherry pit. My vision blurred and before I knew it a tear escaped. And another. I brushed them away with a shaky hand, trying to keep it together.

  “You guys—” My throat went tight as more tears fell. I was overwhelmed by their friendship.

  “This feels like a group hug moment, only we don’t have time,” Bhakti said. “We’ve got to fix this. Whoever had access to your diary helped make the fake video. We know none of us told anyone about your video diary. Did you mention it to anyone else?”

  “No. No one.” I leaned against the wall, and slid down until I was sitting on the floor. “I think I’m going to have to suck it up and take the blame.”

  Shani frowned.

  “That stinks,” Mari grumbled.

  Bhakti huffed out a sigh.

  “This is so not fair.” Gaby slapped her hand on the bed.

  We got quiet. What else was there to say?

  Except for Rowena. Ro sat hunched over her phone watching some video.

  “Rowena!” Mari said. “If you’re watching last week’s episode of The Voice while we’re trying to help Ali I will be most perturbed at you. Especially because we’re supposed to watch it together.”

  “Not The Voice,” Ro said without taking her attention from her phone. “I’m watching Ali’s video. Someone posted it online.”

  Ugh.

  “Why? Why would you watch it?” Shani sounded mad. That giiirrrl had my back.

  “So I can take a screenshot of the photo. I thought there might be a clue about who the goons are.” Ro held her phone up and we all moved in to look. “But the background is too blurry which sucks because the camera caught their car.”

  “I appreciate it, Ro.” I sent her a smile. “It’s okay. Honestly. Actually, I’m okay with how this has turned out.”

  “I’m not,” Shani said. “I’m pissed that Dax broke up with you.”

  “Yep. He did. And I’m going to be fine. I won’t pretend I didn’t like him a lot, because I did. The way I see it, maybe he didn’t deserve me.”

  “Amen, sister.” Gaby pointed at me.

  “I think it’s horribly unfair that the whole school hates you,” Bhakti said.

  “Still okay,” I said. I looked around at each of their faces, thanking my lucky stars for them. “Because I’ve got you guys: the best friends in the world.”

  “Awww, you’re going to make me cry.” Mari sniffed. “Now it’s time for a group hug!”

  We did. We joined into a huddle, with our arms wrapped around each other. All of us laughing and crying at the same time. It was everything I’d needed a year ago. There was a lot to be said for the power of friendship. For having people you could trust absolutely. Maybe even something magical about it because as we stood celebrating our bond, a thought flashed through my head like a lightning bolt.

  “Hang on. Let me see that photo again.”

  29

  What Does Your Gut Say?

  Dax

  Close to Midnight

  “Dad, got a minute?” I leaned in the open door of my dad’s office, a room right off the foyer. I’d caught him just hanging up the phone. He was a former Air Force pilot turned corporate pilot; the odds were slim he’d be on the phone for work this late on a Friday night. I only needed one guess as to what the phone call was about.

  “Sure. Is this about the playbook mess? I’ve already had calls from two other parents.”

  Called it.

  “Yeah.” I slid my gaze down to my hand, fidgeted with my keys for a moment before looking back at my dad. “If someone showed you photographic proof that someone had done something bad, but your gut instinct told you it couldn’t be true… What would you do?”

  My dad leaned back in his chair, taking his time before answering.

  “You’ve always had good instincts, Dax, on the field and off. I can only think of one time recently when your mom and I thought your instincts might have failed you. But only once in seventeen years is a darn good track record. So, trust your gut. Trust yourself.”

  “What was the one time?”

  “I’ll just say it involved a girl.”

  “A girl.” Huh. Recently? There had only been two girls in my life in the past year. “Are you talking about Paige? Or Ali?”

  “I think you know the answer, but what does your gut tell you?”

  I loved my dad, but he could be extremely frustrating when he went Yoda on me. I sighed. “For the record, this becoming an adult thing isn’t always fun.”

  “Welcome to the party, pal.”

  I turned to go, but stopped, turning back to face my dad. “Would you be disappointed if I didn’t end up following in your footsteps and playing for your alma mater?”

  “No. Is that what you’ve been thinking? That I’d be upset?”

  “Yeah. We’ve talked about it almost as long as I’ve been playing football.”

  “Only because you said that’s what you wanted. Your mom and I only want to see you happy. Happy and successful at whatever you choose.” He stood, walked from behind his desk, and put his hand on my shoulder. “You could quit playing football altogether and we wouldn’t be disappointed. We don’t need you to be a star quarterback. We’re proud of you—who you are as a person.”

  The tightness in my chest eased and for the first time in over an hour it felt like I’d make it through the night without my lungs exploding from all the pressure.

  “Is that what you want to do? Quit playing?” Dad asked.

  “No,” I said. “But I’ve only ever had one plan for my life. One vision. Recently someone suggested if I had options—you know, like a backup plan—it might take off some of the stress.”

  One short knock on the front door had me swinging around as TJ entered carrying a pizza from Leroy’s Pizza Palace.

  “Hey, Mr. DeLeon,” TJ said.

  “TJ. Good game tonight,” Dad said. “That catch in the third quarter was stellar.”

  “Thanks.”

  TJ’s catch had been stellar. Especially because I’d overthrown him by a couple feet. Another thing that was weighing me down. Man, when life goes south, it does it with a bulldozer not a shovel.

  “We’re going to hang out by the pool
,” I said.

  “No party I hope,” he said.

  “Just us.” That was the point of hanging out at my house. To get away from all the gossip flying around.

  I detoured to my room to change out of my suit and into jeans and a sweatshirt before heading out the back door. TJ had grabbed us sodas from the fridge and turned on the outdoor gas fireplace to offset the chilly West Texas night. We sat at the wrought iron table with the pizza box between us.

  “That was a great catch, by the way. I knew it was a bad pass the second it left my hand. The loss is on me.”

  “First off, you aren’t the only player who made mistakes tonight, so shut up. Second, maybe they were the team who got our playbook. Did you think of that?”

  “Oh, I’ve thought of it.” I grabbed a slice of pizza, polished it off, and reached for another while replaying the night through my head for only the millionth time. “Damn, TJ, I still can’t believe it.”

  “You and everyone else on the team.” TJ paused for a few bites of his own piece. He shook his head. “It’s not the first time there’s been cheating in high school football but…”

  “But who would have thought my girlfriend would be involved?”

  “Girlfriend? Pretty sure you and Ali broke up when you said you didn’t believe her.”

  “Right.” I tossed my half-finished piece back in the box, suddenly not hungry. “Ex-girlfriend. If I’d stuck to my no-girls plan this season, I might not have gotten the team into this mess. So much for a distraction-free season.”

  “I don’t know. Until tonight, Ali was cool. Paige was a ten on the high-maintenance scale and happy to cause a scene when things didn’t go her way. The word manipulative comes to mind. Ali seemed like the complete opposite. She was there for you but did her own thing too. The playbook thing is weird.”

  “Agree. Stealing playbooks is old school. A rival team is more likely to sneak into the bleachers during practice and videotape our plays with their cellphone.”