Fake It 'Til You Break It

by Brandy, Meagan

  I offer a small smile and move back to my spot on the turf, Nico sitting once again as well.

  “Should we go over some questions, maybe?” I ask Nico, setting my notebook in my lap.

  His eyes pointedly fall to the matte black cover only to snap right back to mine.

  He goes straight back to silent mode.

  And just like that, Nico’s done being semi-friendly for the day.

  Awesome.

  The class ends not too long later, and lunch follows, the pep rally in the gym right after, so I meet Carley at the door and we file in together.

  We’re playing a rare Thursday game tonight, but it’s still game night, and with our team having had a bye last week, we’re all jonesing for some football.

  I’m in need of some fun after the taxing week I’ve had.

  Of course, as soon as I think it, the cause of my headache struts in, a large number 24 etched across his chest in big, bold, blue letters.

  He’s not even the captain, Trent is as quarterback, yet, there Nico is, leading the team down the bench line, and dropping his ass in the space directly in front of me.

  Yay freaking me.

  She couldn’t hold in her eye roll if she tried – she’d never try, it’s always been her go-to form of sass.

  Not my fault she chooses the second row knowing the team sits in the first. It’s the same shit every week, been this way all four years.

  The difference though, she’d let me ignore her before, never sought out eye contact.

  Now? I swear to god the girl takes pleasure in fucking with my head, demanding my attention without a word, causing me to be more measured and sharper with her.

  She’s testing my patience, and the funniest shit... I’m not sure she has a clue.

  Like right now, she’s pulled her phone out to record her friends who just took the floor to do their little cheer thing, and she’s leaning forward slightly to do it, making her naked knees push into my back.

  I’m tempted to catch her off guard, mess with her by leaning against them. It’s what she gets for not paying attention, but as soon as I think it, she shifts away, knocking Trent in the arm with them instead.

  “She’s killin’ it!” Demi whispers in a laugh.

  He chuckles but keeps his focus on his girl.

  A scoff leaves me, and he cuts a glance my way, his smirk deepening.

  Dick.

  Josie tries to get my attention during the routine, but I purposely avoid her side of the room, and just like that, they’re done and running off the floor.

  Demi’s legs find their way forward again, so fuck it, I push against them, and she tenses.

  I drop my head back, so it’s damn near planted in her lap and those green eyes widen, her hands lifted and frozen a few inches out.

  Her long hair brushes across my cheek so I reach up and move it, and her lips clamp tight.

  “You keep kneeing me and I’m gonna do one of two things. One being lifting you up and putting you beside me so you can’t anymore, or two, plant your ass in my lap, which will either embarrass or entice you. Your call, Davenport.” My eyes move between hers a moment, but the girl is slow to catch on.

  Finally, she jumps, swiftly swinging her body away to the point I almost fall over and have to catch myself.

  Both Trent and Carley laugh, while Demi simply stares.

  “Sorry,” she whispers after a second, and then pretends to be focused on Coach, who gives his speech into the microphone.

  Slowly, I turn back, hiding my smirk as Trent swallows his laughter.

  In the same second, an uglier different shade of blond catches my eye from the opposite end of the bench.

  Alex studies me and my muscles lock, but I make sure he’s the first to break contact.

  Always fucking watching so he can decide what moves he wants to mirror.

  Little punk.

  I don’t speak the rest of the pep rally, and after it I plug in my earbuds and ignore the world until it’s time to meet in the locker room to dress for tonight’s game.

  My peace is short-lived when we start getting into gear and Alex calls me out, like a brave little fucker.

  “So what’s up, Nico, you and Josie on or off this week?”

  “Here we fuckin’ go.” Our boy Thompson shakes his head, dropping on the bench beside me to tie his cleats.

  “You mean you don’t know, Hammons?” I don’t bother looking at him, but keep tying my game pants. “Thought you rode my jock harder than that.”

  “Too busy getting mine ridden by the girls you couldn’t keep satisfied.”

  I scoff, pulling my sleeve up and over my bicep. “Tell me, you like what I like, golden boy, or is sticking your dick where I do the only way you can get off?”

  I hear him coming and quickly spin, but Trent’s already between us before we can touch each other, Thompson on the other side.

  A few of our other teammates stand to block the way Coach’ll be coming from just in case.

  “Watch your mouth, Sykes, or you’ll regret it,” he forces past clenched teeth.

  “You gonna run home, tell daddy?” I spread my arms out.

  Try me, motherfucker.

  His nostrils flare with rage as he pushes against Trent’s chest, but Trent nudges him back.

  Alex nods, backing up and yanking his shoulder pads over his head, glaring at me as he buckles them, so I pick mine up, slipping them on, too.

  “You know, I think I’ll shift my energy for a little while,” Alex draws out slowly, looking over his shoulder at me, his spiteful tone causing my neck to stiffen. “Maybe put it into someone new.”

  My eyes thin and in my peripheral, I spot Trent’s head snap toward me.

  The air in my throat begins to burn.

  “Demi’s lookin’ good this year,” he edges as he tries to read me, to see if I give a fuck about my new little partner. “Think I’ll ask her to formal, bet she’d be a lot of fun after.”

  This motherfucker.

  He thinks he can bait me and expects I’ll bite? I don’t fucking think so.

  I take slow steps toward Alex who stands tall.

  Trent follows but lets me get close this time.

  My expression must be a little wild, because the smirk on Hammons’ face grows, but slips just as quick when a snide chuckle leaves me.

  “You slippin’, Hammons?” My lip curls a bit as my glare deepens.

  “Nic,” Trent warns.

  I hold out a hand, not taking my eyes off Alex. I move closer.

  “What makes you think I give a fuck about that girl?”

  His mask slips completely, his eyes flying between mine in search of truth.

  “Why don’t you try worrying about catching a fucking ball instead of how to shove yours inside some worthless chick, and maybe you’d get a chance to receive one more.”

  “Fuck you,” he seethes, his anger coming back. “If you weren’t sucking the quarterback’s dick at night, I’d get the ball way more than you.”

  Trent tries to bound forward when he’s brought into it, but someone grips his shoulder.

  “There you go,” I mock, his lame ass attempt to offend not fazing me. He’s as weak as his words. “Refocus, motherfucker, put more of that energy into your own game instead of tryin’ to copy mine, bitch, it’ll do you some good.”

  His fist flies, catching me in the cheek, and I laugh, falling back a step only to dart in and punch him just beneath his left eye, but that’s as far as it gets before everyone is shouting and pulling us apart.

  Not before I spit in his face though.

  Piece of shit.

  There’s a turnover on downs, and the starting offense takes the field once again.

  Wait, where’s...

  “Has Alex even gone in yet?” I squint, spotting him on the sideline, his helmet in his hands.

  “I don’t think so.” Carley offers me a licorice. “Maybe he’s injured?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” He didn’t mention it, no
t that that means anything.

  “Dude, Demi.” She laughs, leaning back on the bleacher behind her. “Check out your lab boy.”

  I scoff.

  As if anyone could miss him and his neon sleeve and gloves.

  If you didn’t know by word of mouth, you had no question after any single game Nico is the star player – a starting receiver and the go-to man for Trent.

  I swear, even at the away games the announcers love him.

  He’s metal and the ball is his flying magnet, no matter where Trent puts the pass, everyone knows Nico will be there to catch it.

  Too bad his attitude sucks.

  The second the ball is snapped my phone rings, my mom’s name flashing across the screen.

  “Ignore her,” Carley says.

  “She’ll only keep calling.”

  I answer, not getting a word in before she starts yelling.

  “Where are you?”

  I frown. “I’m at the game.”

  Her annoyed exhale isn’t missed. “I need to come and get your card, I have a trip out of town with the girls and I need to make sure I have extra, just in case.”

  I turn away from Carley, lowering my voice. “I have Krista’s party this weekend, I need it.”

  “I’ll bring you the cash I have, and Demi, don’t mention this to your dad. He’ll deduct it from my spending again.”

  As he should.

  “Whatever,” I mumble. “Call me when you get here.”

  “No, come out into the parking lot now, so I don’t have to wait around for you later.”

  “Are you already on your way?”

  “Yes, yes,” she huffs. “I’m on my way.”

  The line goes dead.

  With a sigh, I stuff my phone back in my pocket and let Carley know I’ll be back in a few minutes.

  As I should have expected, a few turns into more, and before I know it, the scoreboard sounds, indicating the end of the fourth quarter, and still, my mom isn’t here.

  I try calling her for the third time, but she doesn’t answer, so I text her.

  Of course, she responds to that instantly.

  Mom: sorry, be there in five.

  I scoff, shoving it in my pocket.

  It’s not long before Carley steps out the gate, followed by a crowd of other game goers. “She’s still not here?” she snaps.

  “Says she’ll be here in five.”

  She shakes her head. “Tell her I’ll take you home right now to meet her, she’s probably still there.”

  “It’s fine.” I pass on the offer. “She’ll just get stressed out and act like an asshole.”

  Macy and Krista are out the gate in the next second, their bags slung over their shoulders.

  “Hey!” Krista smiles. “You guys ready to go?”

  We’re supposed to be going out for pizza and talking final plans for her birthday, but I’m annoyed now, and my head is pounding. “I’m bailing, I have to wait for my mom. Call me if you need me, though.”

  “Are you sure?” Macy asks. “We can wait or you can meet us later?”

  “I’ll only be a buzz kill, and who knows what kind of mood she’ll be in.”

  “How you gonna get home?” Carley asks.

  “She can drop me on her way out. You guys go, I’m fine.”

  They nod, move in for a hug and then they’re gone.

  A half hour later, when the parking lot is near empty other than the cars of the senior players, the clean-up crew, and traveling team’s bus, my mom sends another text.

  Mom: found the cash in your drawer, so I won’t be stopping by. Be safe, have fun.

  “Ugh.” I roll my eyes at my screen, shoving it in my pocket as I kick off the fence.

  Love you, too.

  “I make you that sick, Little D?”

  My head snaps left to find Nico walking out from the other side of the building, his football bag hanging from one hand, protein shake in the other.

  “Parents.” A tight laugh leaves me, and I glance away with a frown. “They’re... annoying.”

  “I heard that,” he says, and my stare moves back to his. “Where’re your friends?”

  “Gone. Where are yours?” I sass back, glancing behind him, but nobody follows.

  “Getting chewed out by Coach.”

  “Yet here you stand.”

  “I don’t make mistakes,” he says straight faced, giving a simple shrug.

  “Right.” I nod and keep past him. “Well, see you tomorrow.” I guess.

  “There’re no cars in the parking lot the way you’re walking, Davenport,” he calls out after a few seconds.

  I spin around as he steps closer to his truck.

  “Because I’m doing just that, Sykes. Walking.”

  He tosses his bag in the back, leaning his forearms on the bed. “I’m taking you home.”

  “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  “I didn’t ask you.”

  My head tugs back. “Excuse me?”

  He ignores me, walks around his truck and pulls the passenger door open, his eyes cutting back to me. He lifts his chin expectantly.

  This guy.

  “I said I was fine.”

  “And I said I wasn’t asking,” he snaps back, stern-faced. “You’re not walking home alone in the fuckin’ dark.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “You’ll get in.”

  When I don’t move but cross my arms, his eyes narrow farther, his words as sharp as his gaze.

  “I’m going the same way. I live right fuckin’ behind you.” He’s annoyed. “We don’t even have to talk. In fact, I hate talkin’ after a game.”

  “As opposed to what, your usually chatty self?” I joke.

  He blinks. “Game’s over, your friends are gone. Let’s go.”

  That’s right, the game just ended...

  “You know what,” I think out loud. “I’ll wait for Trent, have him drive me.”

  Nico frowns. “Trent got a ride with someone else.”

  He moves his hand to the rim of the door, eyes on me as a cloud of warning settles over him.

  He won’t ‘allow’ me to walk.

  With an annoyed growl, I cave.

  It’s not like I wanted to walk home, I’d have brought my own car had I known the night would end like this. Still, riding with Nico isn’t the ideal way home.

  He makes me anxious... or something.

  I walk over, slide into the seat and glare up at him when he blocks me from reaching for the handle to yank it shut. “Happy?”

  “Why would this make me happy?”

  “Because you win.”

  He lowers, bringing his face even with mine, and I pull in a lungful of air.

  “I always do.” His voice is a sultry whisper. “Might wanna get used to that, D.”

  He slams the door.

  Cocky bastard.

  I begin buckling as he steps around to climb into the driver’s seat.

  Right as Nico shifts the truck into drive, the rest of the team spills around the corner, but we’re out of the parking lot before they reach the curb.

  My phone rings a minute later.

  Great. My mom decides to come now?

  I don’t look but answer as I bring it to my ear.

  “Yes,” I drag out, aggravated.

  “Demi?”

  I pull it from my ear, glancing at the screen and my eyes widen.

  Oh shit.

  “Hey,” I say, internally cringing as I clear my throat.

  Nico’s frown slides my way, but I pretend I don’t notice.

  “It’s Alex.”

  A light laugh leaves me. “Yeah, I realize that now. Sorry, I thought my mom was bugging me again.”

  He’s quiet a few seconds before he asks, “Are you still at the school?”

  I turn away from Nico. “No, I just left.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh?

  “I didn’t see your car,” he says.

  “Yeah, I got a ride home.” />
  “Huh.” He pauses. “I was thinking, maybe I could stop by a minute, you know, if you’re going home right away...”

  I squish my lips to the side to fight a smile. “I am. I was supposed to hang at Krista’s awhile, but I decided not to.”

  “Cool.” Alex is quiet a moment. “Text me when you’re there?”

  “I will,” I tell him, nodding even though he can’t see me, and hang up.

  “Who was that?”

  Nico fires off, maybe even before the call is ended, and my head snaps toward him.

  I scowl. “Thought you didn’t like to talk after a game, or you know, ever as far as I’m concerned?”

  A bored glance is his response.

  Now that I’m closer to him, and there’s a little light in here from his dash, a small bruise beneath his right eye reveals itself.

  That wasn’t there in class today...

  I don’t know why, but after an uncomfortable minute of silence and convincing myself not to ask him about his battle wound, I decide to answer his question.

  “It was Alex.”

  “I told you he was talkin’ to someone else.”

  Another instant response...

  His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

  I glance from his hands to his face. “You mean the same person you’re more than talking to?”

  “I’m not.”

  His eyes, dark and full of something indefinable, meet mine for a short pause before he focuses his frown on the road.

  Nico licks his lips but doesn’t say another word, and low in my gut, there’s a sudden pull.

  A minute or two later, he’s parking in front of my house, not bothering to look over or acknowledge my thanks as I step out.

  He does wait until I’m in the door to drive away, though, which was more than I expected.

  As soon as I’m locked inside, I quickly send a text to Alex letting him know I’m home.

  I find my way to my bed and lie there wondering why Nico decided to share he was no longer sleeping with Sandra and accidentally fall asleep.

  “Demi,” Miranda, my school dance coach, calls. “Get lower on the second count, your booty needs to be an inch from your ankles. You’re the most flexible person in here, don’t go half ass on me.” She claps and moves to the next group.

  My friend Ava looks at me sticking her tongue out as she rolls her eyes making me laugh.

  Miranda is a stickler for perfection, but it’s good. It’s what I want, so I like when she calls me out if I’m being lazy. Today, though, I’m so exhausted I almost wish she wouldn’t.