“I could’ve done that too,” she says, taking the candy from me. “Now a bag of candy that costs a dollar cost us two,” she sasses sarcastically.
It doesn’t go unnoticed that she used the word us and that fucks with me a little.
“But thank you,” she adds, tearing the corner of the bag with her teeth. I watch as she spills some into her palm before popping them into her mouth.
“You’re welcome,” I rasp, clearing my throat before I point to the bag in her hand. “You going to share?”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replies, throwing back another handful.
I laugh slightly as she reaches for my hand, turns over my palm and gives me two M&M’s. She quickly lets go of my hand and tips her chin.
“There,” she says softly.
“Still hate to share I see,” I observe as I pop the candy into my mouth.
“Well, some things never change no matter how much everything else does,” she retorts. The tension between us resurfaces, and she shoves the candy into the pocket of her scrubs. “I should get back to work—”
“Or you could show me where to get a cup of coffee and then go back to work,” I quickly interrupt. “Isn’t there a cafeteria or something in this joint?”
“The cafeteria is closed to visitors at this hour,” she responds, glancing at the watch on her wrist. Lifting her chin, she sighs and tilts her head to the side. “They keep it open for the staff.”
“I bought you M&M’s,” I remind her.
“You never played fair,” she says thoughtfully as she presses the button for the elevator. “Fine, one cup of coffee.”
“Careful, don’t sound too excited or I might think you like me,” I reply sarcastically. She lifts her head and I wink at her as the elevator doors open wide. “Ladies first.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” she smirks, stepping into the elevator. “I feel sorry for you. It seems like my future husband can be a lot to handle,” she jokes as I step beside her and she presses the floor for the cafeteria.
“You think it’s a joke, but he somehow tricked three other women into marrying his ass,” I tell her, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from touching her.
“I met one of them the other day. She brought one of his sons to see him and tried to hit him up for more child support,” she reveals, chuckling slightly. “He buzzed me into his room, asked me to draw his blood so he could give it to her,” she pauses and continues to laugh.
“Sounds like Wolf.”
“Why do you call him that?”
“Like Cobra is my road name, Wolf is his,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders. “None of us really refer to one another by our real names.
“Does it mean anything?”
“There is meaning behind some and others not so much, but it also ties us to our club and that’s something.”
“So, does Wolf’s name mean something?”
“It means he hates the fucking name his mother gave him,” I joke before shaking my head as the elevator doors open. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“What about yours?” she questions as we step off the elevator.
I think about the question and how I should respond as she leads me down the corridor.
“It’s a means to an end,” I say finally.
“The end of Jagger?”
“Something like that,” I admit.
“Does everyone call you Cobra?”
“Everyone except you,” I point out.
She pulls the badge off her scrubs as we reach the cafeteria and swipes it to unlock the doors.
“I can’t help it,” she confesses, turning to me. “You’ll be always Jagger to me.”
The words come softly as she touches my leather vest. Her thumb glides over the patch that reads my name before she drops it and clears her throat.
“Did you want something to eat too, or just coffee?”
I remain rooted in place and watch her walk toward the counter. I’ve been telling myself I need her to see me for what I am and not what I used to be or could have been if I didn’t choose to live life suffering and sinning. Hearing her say those words, knowing I’ll always be the guy she fell in love with makes me want to be the guy she falls in love with all over again.
“Did I lose you?” she questions over her shoulder.
No and I’m wondering if she ever truly did.
“Sorry,” I say.
Sorry I ever made you think you did.
“Do you still take it black?”
I nod watching as she pours me a cup of coffee and then one for herself.
“Sugar?”
Shit, this was a bad fucking idea.
And so is this…
I move next to her, take both cups from her hands and set them down in front of me. First, I fix hers with two equals and milk then I fix mine, securing the lids.
She reaches for her coffee, but I shake my head.
“I remember too,” I say quietly before stepping around her and making my way toward the checkout.
I remember every fucking memory.
Every tear.
Every touch.
Every fucking smile.
Each one mine.
Chapter Eleven
Age: 14
“Richardson, you’re in,” Coach calls from the sidelines. “Get your helmet on and hustle onto the field.”
I’m sure I imagined the order. I lift my head and turn my attention to the junior varsity coach that is commanding me to play. For the first half of the season I sat on this bench, waiting for a chance to prove myself to my team, but it never came. Now was my shot, my opportunity to show my team and everyone in the stands I deserve to be here.
I grab my helmet, fit it to my head and jog onto the field. Reaching the huddle, I listen to the quarterback as he includes me into our play. We all put our hands in the middle, chant and then break apart, moving to take our positions on the field.
Adrenaline courses through me as the bright stadium lights try to blind me and I turn my head to the stands before the whistle blows. In a crowd of hundreds it’s easy to spot her—the girl with the biggest smile in the whole damn place. She’s wearing my jersey and holding a sign bigger than her that reads my number.
Since the season began, Celeste hasn’t missed a single game. Normally she’s sitting on the bleachers with my sister, but Alexandria is working tonight. She’s the only one screaming my name, the others have no idea what I’m capable of or how badly I want this. They don’t know I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I first held a football in my hands. But she does…she knows everything about me.
The prettiest girl in the whole damn school is there for me and I’ll be damned if I don’t make her proud.
This one is for you, Cel.
I hear the quarterback shout over his shoulder and I turn my attention to the ball, keeping my eyes on it as I run. Defense works to tackle and block us, but I find the sweet spot in the field and charge for it. The opposing team doesn’t see me as a threat and put their efforts into blocking the first string players they’ve studied in their playbooks. My father’s voice replays over and over, reminding me to follow my gut.
Intuition knows the game.
My eyes lock with the quarterback’s as I run backward and hold my hands out against my chest. He throws the ball; it’s almost as if everything around me freezes except for the ball and the girl cheering me on. My fingers grip the leather as I catch the ball and tuck it safely to my chest and run down the field.
My cleats pound the turf, swallowing up the yards until I’m more than halfway down the field and they realize I’m the guy with the ball—the guy that is forty yards away from scoring his first touchdown. A touchdown that will win the game for his team.
I quicken my speed as the defense from the other team tries to tackle me. My shoulder collides with him and he drops to the ground. I don’t look back, I keep my eyes pinned to the end zone and let my teammates guard me as I sprint forwa
rd.
Cheers implode around me as I score the touchdown and win the game.
My team charges to the end zone and tackles me to the ground gleefully. Not only did I score the winning touchdown, but I secured our place in the state playoffs. The next few minutes are a whirlwind as I’m pulled and pushed in a million different directions and congratulated by my team and coaches. I don’t have time to glance back at the bleachers, but I know she’s sharing my victory.
The celebration moves from the field to the locker room as we change into our street clothes and the coach gives us a final pep talk. Before I leave he tells me to be prepared to play first string at our next game.
No more bench for this guy.
My dreams of going pro are restored and I feel like I’m untouchable—on top of the world. There is only one thing that would make tonight even more perfect than it already is. When I step into the dark night, I seek her out.
She’s exactly where I left her before the game, standing by the gate in front of the field with a smile so bright she could light up the field. Our eyes lock and she pushes off the fence. Running toward me she lunges for me, wrapping her arms around my neck as I drop my bag to the floor and grip her hips.
“I’m so proud of you,” she shrieks.
Her voice is hoarse from all the screaming she did throughout the game.
“Thank you,” I say, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she slides down my body and her feet touch the floor.
“Let’s celebrate!” She grins, throwing her hair over her shoulder before she reaches for my hand and tugs me toward the bleachers.
We should head home, but I don’t want this night to end so I follow her to the bleachers. Knowing the field is closed and we could get into major trouble for trespassing, she leads me under the bleachers. I spot the blanket first then her backpack and I turn to her with surprise.
“What’s this?”
“We’re not going to be kids forever, Jagger. One day you’re going to be a hotshot NFL player traveling the country. I won’t be able to celebrate every win with you, but I’ll always be the girl you celebrated your first one with,” she says.
Her big brown eyes shine back at me and I realize she’s right. She’s going to be the girl I give all my firsts to.
Every last one.
“Come on, I got your favorite,” she says, tugging on my hand. We sit on the blanket and I watch her reach into her backpack and pull out a bag of peanut M&M’s.
“My favorite?” I laugh.
“Okay, so maybe they’re mine, but I’ll share with you.”
“How big of you,” I tease.
“Right? We all know how I hate sharing,” she mocks, treating me to a wink before she rips open the bag and pours a few into her hand. She turns to me, lifting one of the candies to my lips. “Open up,” she commands through a giggle.
Her smile does weird things to me and I decide in this moment it’s my favorite part of her. If she’s right, if I make the pros and she can’t be at all my games, I’ll take her smile with me. I’ll tally all the smiles she’s given me from this night forward and take them wherever I go.
My eyes zero in on the beauty mark placed on the corner of her lip, the beauty mark that disappears when her lips curve. I wonder what she would do if I kissed it right now. She’s my sister’s best friend, but she’s the girl I think about all day long, the girl I want to kiss really badly right now.
“Jagger,” she whispers, holding the M&M to my lips.
My hand reaches up for hers and wraps around her wrist, dragging it down between us as I lean closer to her.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
“Of course,” she whispers.
“You ever been kissed before?”
I know she hasn’t but I want to hear her say it. I want to know I’m the first guy to ever touch his lips to hers.
“No,” she admits.
“Good,” I reply as I lift my hands to her face. “I really wanted to be your first.”
My lips touch her beauty mark first and I hear her gasp slightly. I pull back to make sure we’re on the same page. Her eyes close and her lips pucker with anticipation, causing me to grin as my lips descend onto hers.
At first I brush my lips against hers softly. I let her get used to the feel of me before my tongue sneaks out of my mouth and touches the seam of hers. She opens for me and I slide into her, tasting her for the first time. She doesn’t respond with her mouth but her hands grip the front of my shirt and I hear a little moan escape the back of her throat.
“Kiss me back,” I say against her lips.
I repeat my actions and this time when my tongue slides between her lips it’s greeted by hers. Finding her groove, she kisses me back and I wrap my arms around her waist. Leaning back, I lie down on the blanket and bring her on top of me. Our lips don’t part and our tongues continue to get to know one another for what seems like forever.
When we finally come up for air, she touches her forehead to mine and smiles.
It’s the first smile I tally.
“We completely blew curfew,” she states.
“It was completely worth it,” I retort.
“Yeah, it was,” she laughs, snuggling into me. “I don’t want to go.”
“We have to,” I remind her.
Her father will lose his shit when I walk her to the door. He might not make headlines like his brother, but Mr. Spinelli is a big dude who wouldn’t think twice about smacking me around for keeping his little girl out. I really didn’t want to leave either.
I trace my finger over the number on the back of her shirt…my number.
“Hey,” I start and wait for her to lift her head before I continue. “Say you’ll be my girl.”
Her eyebrows knit together as she studies my face silently.
“Or not,” I add when she doesn’t respond.
“You want me to be your girlfriend?”
“If you want to be. I mean you already wear my jersey,” I say with a shrug before my grin spreads wide, matching hers. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Celeste.”
“I’ll be your girlfriend but that doesn’t mean I’m sharing my M&M’s with you,” she warns.
“As long as you give me your smile you can keep your M&M’s.”
Right there she gives me another and I add it to the count.
Chapter Twelve
Age: 15
Lying on my bed, I throw the football in the air and catch it. It’s funny how our lives can change so quickly. Last year at this time I was wishing and praying for my coach to put me in the game. Now a sophomore, I don’t play anymore. I didn’t even show up to tryouts. I’m lucky if I make it to my classes.
I gave up on my dreams the night my sister’s future was stolen—the night she stopped dreaming.
I can still see the flashing lights that crowded the streets the night everything changed. I remember holding Celeste’s hand as we walked home from the football game and the way her small hand squeezed mine once we realized the cops were in front of my house. My first thought was something happened to my parents. Then I heard my mother cry and my father order everyone to stop asking him questions and go find his daughter.
For days they asked us the same questions over and over, wording them differently every time. They went door to door asking the neighbors if they remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary and lined the pizzeria she worked at with caution tape.
Some said she ran away.
Others said they saw a black van on the corner of the pizzeria.
My parents mortgaged their house and put a reward out for anyone who might have information regarding her disappearance. All they got was a bunch of lowlifes calling the hotline with false information—using my sister’s life as a ploy to make a quick buck.
We posted her picture on every corner, telephone pole and bus stop, praying that someone would come forward or that she would miraculously reappear one day. That day never came and every lead the cops chased wound u
p being a dead end.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months.
Now a year later, she’s still missing and my life has completely changed. My parents fight day and night, blaming one another for her disappearance and when they’re not fighting they look at me wishing I was her.
At school everyone talks behind my back, including my teachers. They pity me and try to get me to talk to a shrink. My friends or the people I thought were my friends like making up stories about how she went missing. Then there are the ignorant pieces of shit that never spoke to my sister, who probably didn’t know she existed until the day she went missing. Those assholes like to tease and torment Celeste, tell her it should have been her because she was supposed to work that night.
It’s a living hell and I wish I would disappear too.
Something smacks against my window, jarring me away from my pity party and I turn my head. I toss the ball aside and walk toward the window. Pushing aside the blinds, I glance down and see Celeste staring up at me. I pull open the window and stick my head outside.
“What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t show up to school,” she calls up to me.
Guilt fills me as I stare back at her. I know she hates going to school as much as I do these days. Most days I always show up, if for no other reason than to walk her to each of her classes, making sure no one fucks with her. A part of me does it because she’s been the butt of many jokes, the center of a shit ton of insults and the outcast of our entire high school.
“Did someone mess with you?” I ask quickly.
“No,” she replies just as quickly. “Are your parents home?”
“No, meet me in the front,” I tell her.
I make my way through the empty house that acts as a shrine to my sister and pull open the front door to find Celeste shivering outside. I grab her hand and pull her inside before closing the door and locking it.
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