Falling for Ben & Other Impossible Things (Garcia Brothers Book 1)

by Yesenia Vargas

  Uh oh. That’s right. The halftime show.

  I ran beside Rachel, who gave me a thumbs up. “Break a leg!”

  With a half laugh, half cry, I replied, “I hope not!”

  That made her cackle, but she quickly became quiet as she found her spot. I found mine in the row behind her.

  Head down, hands at my side.

  The crowd in front of us went from a loud buzz to a quiet murmur.

  The last thing that flashed through my mind was that at least the football team was too busy reviewing the playbook to be out here watching us. Knowing that Ben wasn’t watching definitely helped my chances of not landing on my butt or face at some point.

  The music boomed through the stadium, and I moved, not letting myself think too much. Thinking too much made me mess up. So instead, I moved with the music. Sometimes dancing, sometimes chanting at the top of my voice, and sometimes pumping my fist into the air.

  The first stunt was coming up. I prepared myself mentally and then it was time. The girls pushed me up in one fluid motion. My smile grew wide at the sound of the crowd screaming for us. My right leg went up at the same time as the girls to either side of me.

  More screams.

  I came back down, and we continued moving, dancing, screaming.

  Yes, this was scarier, crazier, riskier, but somehow, it was also ten times more exhilarating than dance.

  I got ready to go up again, but this time, I didn’t just go up. I flew. I kept my legs and head tucked in, wanting to scream like I was on a rollercoaster but stifling the urge.

  Especially when I fell back down.

  Before I could even wonder if the girls would be there to catch me, they had.

  Not perfectly, but good enough.

  Rachel met my eyes for a split second and winked before moving to her next position.

  At the end of the show, the crowd screamed and cheered like we’d just scored another touchdown.

  Afterward, in the locker room, Rachel gave me a slap on the rear. “See, and you were worried! You killed it out there!”

  I gave her a hug. “Thanks! And thank you for not letting me fall to my death,” I said with a laugh. Then I took a long and deep breath. “Wow, that was awesome.”

  “Right?” She bumped her hip with mine. “We’d never let you fall to your death, silly. Broken leg, though? Maybe.”

  I bumped her back. “Oh gosh.”

  She winked again. “Kidding.”

  We took a break, got a job well done speech from Mrs. Collins, and headed back out onto the field.

  The boys were already there.

  Rachel must have seen me glancing around because she leaned into my ear. “Number 28 is right over there,” she said, nodding her head in the opposite direction I’d been looking.

  Sure enough, Ben was there, chugging down some Gatorade. But I tried to play it cool. Putting my hands on my hips, I said, “I was just admiring the team.”

  Rachel cackled again. “I know what you were admiring.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud with her.

  Then I wiped the sweat from my brow, fanning myself.

  “Here,” Rachel said, handing me some of her sports drink. “We’ve got another half to go.”

  Another thing about cheer? It was a lot more grueling than I could’ve imagined.

  We cheered through another touchdown from the opposite team.

  The crowd cheered and screamed for Jefferson, but things weren’t looking good.

  At least until we got an interception.

  I knew enough about football to know what that was. During the second down, our quarterback managed to make a pass just before getting hit by the other team’s elephant-sized defender.

  The crowd groaned in worry for him, but we all kept our gaze on the ball arcing through the air. Number 28 ran to meet the ball, but he had two defenders on his tail.

  He wasn’t gonna make it…

  Ben jumped, landed on his side, and rolled.

  The crowd erupted into screams.

  It was easy to see why. They were just twenty yards from the end zone.

  During the next down, Jefferson scored a touchdown.

  We did our special touchdown cheer, and I got thrown into the air again.

  Our team needed one more touchdown, though, if we were going to win this game.

  I checked the time on the clock and saw the coach doing the same. Just twelve minutes left.

  The boys continued playing their hearts out, and the girls continued cheering.

  With five minutes left on the clock, Jefferson managed to intercept the ball again. This time, though, they made it all the way to the end zone.

  “Touchdown for Jefferson!” the speakers boomed.

  I flew into the air again.

  Finally, the whistle blew for the last time. The boys all ran onto the field, screaming and jumping. Lily gave us a wave, and we did the same.

  Rachel found number 29, whose jersey also said Garcia. It was Aaron, Ben’s brother.

  She gave him a big hug, and I noticed the way he hugged her back. Like he’d been waiting all night to do it.

  I smiled and turned away, scanning the crowd and refusing to admit to myself that I was searching for Ben.

  Ah, there he was.

  Speaking to the coach, his helmet still in his hand. Had that uniform been tailor-made for him or was he just born to rock a football uniform?

  The rest of the team continued to mill around, laughing and talking. Several parents joined us on the field, finding their player and going in for hugs.

  It had been a good game, a good night.

  I ached to have someone to talk to, but Rachel was still talking to Aaron, and I didn’t want to be a third wheel.

  Mom had wanted to come out tonight and see me perform my first half-time show, but an urgent and last-minute deadline meant she was still at the office.

  My gaze went to Ben again. He was on his way back to the locker room, his head down.

  Part of me wanted to run up to him and congratulate him on a great game, but I was way too chicken to do that.

  So I went over to Rachel instead.

  She turned to me and smiled. “There you are. We’re all going out to eat. Probably Bobby’s Cafe. Are you in?”

  I nodded. “Sure. I just need to check in with my mom.”

  “Cool,” Rachel replied. She linked her arms with mine and Aaron’s. “Because I could go for a large order of fries and a chocolate milkshake.”

  “Anyone else coming?” I asked, also being too chicken to ask specifically about Ben.

  “Oh, I’m sure the entire football team and cheer squad will be there. It’s kind of our thing on the nights we have home games,” she replied. “By the way,” she stopped. “This is Aaron. Aaron, Scarlett. She’s new this year.”

  Aaron held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Scarlett.”

  I shook his hand and grinned. “Same. You guys played great tonight. Good game.”

  He smiled back. “Thanks.”

  Like his brother, he seemed kind of soft-spoken and quiet. They even looked kind of alike, but Aaron’s eyes were hazel instead of green and he wore his hair differently. Ben was also taller, but both brothers had a knack for wearing a football uniform like it was made for them.

  “Do all of you play football?” I asked as we resumed walking. “Your brothers, I mean.”

  He chuckled. “No. Ben and I do, and our youngest brother does too. But not Cade and Drake.”

  Cade and Drake. Huh.

  I counted in my head. “So there’s…five of you?” I asked, definitely sounding surprised.

  He chuckled again. “Yep. And yes, we get that a lot.”

  Rachel gave me a knowing smile, probably guessing exactly what I was thinking.

  Five brothers? Were they all as handsome as Ben and Aaron?

  Something told me the answer to that question was a resounding yes.

  But as handsome as the other four brothers might
be, my heart was set on the one I couldn’t have: Ben Garcia.

  I was in trouble.

  9

  Because the boys had crushed the first football game, Lily insisted we show up to school on Monday with something special.

  The group chat pinged with so many messages on Sunday that I could hardly keep up.

  Meanwhile, Mom finally had a day off, and we’d decided to order in, catch up on laundry while watching the latest rom-coms, and just be kinda lazy in general. Plus she was begging me to give her the play-by-play from Friday night.

  My phone dinged again. It was Rachel suggesting brownies or cookies as a treat for the boys.

  I gave that a thumbs up. Her idea was better than the one Lily was suggesting, which was to show up on Monday with custom hand-painted t-shirts.

  No, thanks. Between laundry, homework, and watching Noah Centineo on our large flat-screen, I wasn’t about to leave the couch to head to the arts and craft store across town on a Sunday afternoon.

  Apparently, most of the squad agreed to baked goods.

  Baked goods were easy.

  My mom and I had frozen cookie dough in the freezer all the time.

  Just as Noah’s beautiful smile made its appearance on screen, my phone dinged a few more times.

  I glanced at the steady stream of incoming messages.

  Something about a spreadsheet with something.

  But the gist was we had to bake a dozen cookies or half a dozen brownies for our assigned player by tomorrow.

  Plus something about doing a cheer for them before homeroom.

  Got it.

  I went back to my main priority: Noah.

  And telling Mom about the second half of the game on Friday plus hanging out after. It had actually been a lot of fun. More fun than I’d had in a long time, AND Ben had been there.

  I’d come home exhausted but happy.

  After the movie was over, I got up, put away my laundry and books, and headed to the kitchen.

  Mom followed me, her laptop in tow. “Whatcha doing?” she asked.

  She sat down at the counter, plopping down onto a barstool.

  I pulled out the cookie dough.

  “Ooh, good idea,” she said excitedly, clapping her hands.

  But there were just enough cookies to cobble together a dozen. Ben would get a nice mix of peanut butter, double chocolate chip, and good old oatmeal raisin.

  The oatmeal raisin were our diet cookies…

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve gotta make these for Ben tomorrow. We’ll be lucky if we have a couple of extra cookies left over.”

  Mom pouted. “Aww, okay. I guess I’ll settle for a cookie. Probably don’t need more than that anyway between all the takeout I’ve had this week.”

  “Me too,” I said, preheating the oven and grabbing a cookie sheet.

  The next morning, I walked into Jefferson with a Ziploc bag full of cookies baked to perfection, along with a congratulatory note taped on the outside and a big and bright BLUE number twenty-eight.

  I yawned and looked for Rachel, Audrey, or Nora. Mom and I had stayed up way too late watching funny movies. Worth it, though.

  My phone pinged with a text message, and I switched it to vibrate before reading the incoming message.

  Rachel: Where are you? Squad meeting in the hallway by the gym.

  Oops.

  Is that what the twenty new group messages this morning had been about?

  I scurried toward the gym.

  A couple of minutes later, I was there—and completely out of breath. I shoved my things in my locker and joined the rest of the squad. We’d worn our cheer tops along with our favorite pair of jeans.

  The morning announcements began, and the first thing the principal said over the loud speakers?

  “Congratulations to our boys varsity football team. They won their first game of the season on Friday night in an outstanding victory against Chestnut Mountain,” he said, sounding as proud as if we’d just been declared the national champions of football.

  The entire squad cheered, and the boys made their way down the hallway in a loud pack. Several students cheered or high-fived.

  Almost as an after thought, the principal added in a monotone voice, “And a great job to our cheerleaders, who pulled off an amazing half-time show.”

  We all dispersed, but the boys continued soaking in the love and attention for a few more minutes.

  Rachel found Aaron and handed him several frosted brownies and a nice number twenty-seven sign for his locker.

  I looked around for Ben, not realizing when I’d been baking these cookies last night that I’d have to actually go up to him and talk to him.

  Easier said than done, that’s for sure.

  I made my way through the crowd of student athletes, regular students, and teachers trying to get everyone to homeroom.

  There he was, standing at his locker, grabbing his books.

  I blew out a breath, ran my hand through my hair, and made my way over.

  Just a few feet before reaching him, I opened my mouth only to realize I had no idea what to say.

  Hi? Hello? Hey? Good morning?

  Here, take some cookies.

  Oh yeah, good job on Friday.

  No, I needed a minute to think about what to say without stuttering out incoherent sentences again.

  I spun around, only to hear a cool, “Hey.”

  My eyes widened, and I froze.

  Um…

  I turned around slowly, the bag of cookies still in my hands.

  Ben glanced down at them then at me. “Scarlett, right?”

  I nodded. “Hey. Yeah, that’s me.”

  That’s me??

  Really?

  I stuck out my hand, practically shoving the cookies in his perfect face.

  His mouth twitched a little, like he was holding back a grin.

  “Uh, these are for you,” I said, trying to recover and making a mental note to speak first and then hand him the cookies. “Great job on Friday night,” I added, finally sounding kind of like a normal person.

  He took the cookies, his fingers brushing mine and sending my insides into a tizzy. “Thank you.” He gave me a small smile this time. “I heard you guys killed it at half time.”

  “Thanks,” I replied with a smile of my own.

  His smile grew a little wider. “And it was really cool how you flew into the air every time we made a touchdown. You guys are really good.”

  My smile ached to reach cheddar-level cheesy, but I kept it under control. For the most part. “Thank you,” I managed.

  We stood there for a second, neither of us really knowing what to say next.

  “See you at the next game,” I said. “I hope you like the cookies.”

  He held up the bag for a second. “Thanks.”

  I spun around in a flash, itching to find Rachel.

  Or at least get out of the ten-foot radius of Ben that drove me a little crazy.

  The bell rang for first period, but I knew Mrs. Collins would excuse me for being a little late since I was on the squad. I found Rachel exiting the girls’ bathroom.

  “Mission accomplished,” I told her.

  She joined me as we walked. “I was going to ask you what kind of cookies you made for Ben. Like, did you find a recipe online? I always opt for brownies just because it’s easier with the peanut allergy they have—“

  I stopped dead in my tracks and took her by the shoulders. “Rachel, what peanut allergy? Tell me you’re joking.”

  She blinked back at me, not looking like she was joking in the slightest. “Didn’t you look at the spreadsheet?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. I thought it was just a list of who got what player and stuff.”

  She nodded. “And it lists other important stuff, like injuries and allergies.”

  My hands came to my mouth. After a second, my voice came out in a croak. “How allergic is he to peanuts?”

  Now Rachel’s face turned white. “Dea
dly.”

  I nodded slowly, like this was just a regular piece of non-life-threatening information. “Okay. What homeroom is he in?”

  “Chavez,” she replied, somewhere between calm and utterly panicked.

  Before I could even ask her where the heck that was, she added, “Around the corner. Right hand side.”

  I didn’t stick around to see what else she said after that because I was too busy high-tailing to Mr. Chavez’s classroom.

  Not to mention imagining how much the football coach, the football team, and the entire school would hate me after they found out I’d killed their star football player.

  I pictured handsome Ben’s face puffing up after taking a bite of those cookies. Then his throat swelling up…

  Was it too late to ask Mom to transfer to another branch, preferably several states away?

  Tears filled my eyes as I rounded the corner and saw the sign hanging from the ceiling that read CHAVEZ.

  Just a couple doors down.

  The door was still open.

  I practically came to a screeching halt in the doorway, scanned the class for that familiar face.

  There.

  First row.

  Standing in front of a guy I recognized from the football team.

  Reaching into the bag for a cookie.

  Then that cookie going straight for his mouth.

  No!

  I had no idea if I screamed just inside my head or out loud too.

  It all happened so fast and yet so terribly slowly.

  I ran and tackled Benjamin Garcia straight to the ground.

  Landing right. On. Top. Of. Him.

  His green eyes stared up at me, his mouth hanging slightly open in utter shock.

  I had no idea where that cookie landed, but it was no longer in his hand.

  Neither was the bag.

  He glanced around for a second, like he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for a cheerleader tackling him to the ground and then staying there, completely frozen. “Um, are you okay?” he asked awkwardly.

  I came back to my senses then. Scrambled to my feet and offered him a hand up. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

  That’s when I heard the snickers and laughs erupt all around us.

  A few people even had their phones out.

  I fought the urge to run away and instead pulled Ben up to his feet as best I could pull up a built varsity football player.