A Whole New League (Briarwood High Book 2)

by Maggie Dallen

  He nodded toward his house. “Let’s talk inside.”

  Nerves, fierce crazy nerves gripped my stomach at the thought of being alone in a house with Brian. Which was stupid. I used to be alone with him all the time.

  “No,” I said.

  He frowned at me. He hadn’t dropped his arms from their crossed position and he was towering over me. “Why not?”

  Something inside me snapped. “Why not? Because it’s Friday night and we’re not at rehearsal so I don’t have to deal with you right now,” I said, my tone too harsh, my throat raw with unshed tears.

  Brian’s frown eased into something less menacing and far more concerned. “Are you okay?”

  I blinked at him. No! I was so not okay, and seeing Brian right now—my former friend who brought up every terrible emotion from the worst period of my life—so not helping. I swallowed down my immediate response. I was barely holding on here. I just had to get away. I had to get inside before I did something awful like cry. “I’m fine,” I managed.

  His brow furrowed but all anger had seeped away in the face of my craziness, apparently. “Then why are you crying?”

  Crap! I blinked rapidly but that made it worse. “I’m not crying,” I said.

  “There are literally tears running down your face right now.”

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “I am not crying.” I was crying, obviously. We could both see that. Was I being insane? Why yes, yes I was. Was there anything I could do about it? Nope.

  I was barely holding on, in case it wasn’t obvious. I was on the verge of losing it completely and the one person who I did not want to witness that was standing in front of me.

  “Um…” Brian was looking around the driveway as if someone might appear to solve this dilemma. The dilemma of course being, what to do with the crazy crying chick in front of him.

  “Look, just go home,” I said before remembering it was Friday night. “Or to a party or to your girlfriend’s house or whatever. Just leave me alone, okay?”

  “Al—”

  “We can talk at rehearsal on Monday,” I said as I turned and walked toward my front door.

  “I’m not coming to rehearsal on Monday.”

  His words made me stop. Even in my crazed state the organized left-brain stage manager in me started flipping through my mental rehearsal schedule. Wonderful. Now I had to rearrange the week’s rehearsals for this guy? What a lovely way to spend my suckfest of a weekend.

  “Fine. I’ll reschedule you for later in the week,” I said as I kept walking. I’d almost reached the front door when he spoke again, closer than I’d realized.

  I guess he’d been following me.

  “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  “Another time, Kirkland.” I opened the door and walked inside but when I turned to close it he was standing in the doorway. I could either shove him and hope to budge that massive body of his out the door, or I could let him in.

  I had a mental image of just how pathetic I would look trying to shove the school’s quarterback, a guy who weighed more than twice my weight and was made of pure muscle.

  It would be pointless and humiliating. One thing I definitely could not handle today was any more humiliation. Besides, my dad chose that moment to come out of the living room where he was watching a movie with my mom. Luckily I’d swiped away any tears before he caught them otherwise I’d never be able to get loose from their concerned questions. My parents were great but they were a little too involved sometimes.

  “Hi hon, you’re home early. Oh, hey Brian!”

  “Mr. Kern,” Brian said with a polite nod.

  My parents had always loved Brian. They’d been almost as heartbroken as I’d been when we’d broken up as BFFs. Now my dad’s face was lit up like a kid on Christmas morning as he looked between the two of us. Finally, he clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Good to see you two together again.” He nodded toward me. “This one missed you something fierce.”

  I was going to die from the embarrassment. When would this day with its nonstop humiliations come to an end already?

  “It’s good to be here, Mr. Kern,” Brian said.

  Ugh. I rolled my eyes behind my dad’s back at Brian’s suck-up tone. Brian saw but he looked away quickly.

  “What are you kids up to tonight?” my dad asked.

  Oh, just had my heart broken, crushed, and stomped on so I thought it might be fun to take a walk down memory lane with my least favorite former friend.

  “We’ve got play stuff to work on,” I said.

  My dad held his hands up. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  Brian smiled and it seemed almost genuine. “Good to see you again, Mr. Kern.”

  “You too, Brian.”

  I’d already turned away, not needing to witness this weird male bonding between my dad and the kid he wished was his son. I headed downstairs to the basement, wishing there was some way I could get Brian to leave me alone, but not knowing how on earth to do that without physically removing him from my house.

  He would leave eventually. I turned on the TV down there and flopped onto the couch, prepared to wait him out in silence.

  “Nice try,” he said. “But I’m not leaving until I know who did this to you.”

  I sat up straight. Wait, what? When I turned to face him he was hovering over the couch and he wore that frown again. Except he didn’t look angry anymore, just…worried. “Who did this? Was it a guy?”

  “Oh my God, I am not talking to you about this.”

  “Is it that guy you’re always hanging out with?”

  “Julian?” I don’t know why I said his name. It wasn’t as if there was some other guy I hung out with all the time.

  “Julian.” When Brian repeated his name, it came out more like a growl.

  What the—What was going on here?

  He took a step closer and now his hover felt more like looming. He was towering over me. I stood up. He still towered over me but at least I wasn’t cowering in the couch. “Brian, go away.”

  “Not until you tell me who did this to you.” He crossed his arms. “Who made you cry?”

  I stared up at him with my mouth hanging open. This was ridiculous. We hadn’t been friends in years and now he decided to get all protective.

  You, I wanted to say. It wasn’t true tonight, obviously, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t shed more than my fair share of tears over him in the past. But I didn’t want to get into that with him tonight. I didn’t want to get into any of it. I just wanted to be left alone to wallow in my misery. Was that so much to ask?

  “It was that Julian guy, wasn’t it?” he demanded, his jaw set in a way that made him look like Superman or something. No mere mortal had a jaw that strong.

  I shook my head to rid myself of that random thought. “Why do you want to know?”

  “So I can beat the crap out of him.” He said it through gritted teeth and I could see his chest rising and falling as he struggled for control.

  I took a step back in shock. Holy cow. He was serious. Brian Kirkland was angry…on my behalf.

  The thought was oddly touching, even as it pissed me off. “You have no right to be all protective,” I reminded him. “We’re not friends anymore, remember?”

  “I don’t care. If that dweeb hurt you—”

  “Dweeb?” I interrupted his tirade because, seriously…dweeb? “Did you study John Hughes movies to learn these kind of King Jock lines or do they hand out a script when you join the team?”

  His eyes scrunched up in confusion. “King Jock? What’s that?”

  I sighed. Of course I’d never called him that to his face before, it would have meant talking…to his face. “It doesn’t matter.” We stood there in silence for a moment and in that brief period of time, my defenses started to crumble.

  This was exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid but unless I could somehow outrun the quarterback, I was stuck in my basement with him…while I had a meltdown. Because the shock of it a
ll was starting to pass and in its place was the cold, hard truth.

  The guy I liked didn’t like me back.

  I started crying for real, dropping my head into my hands. Oh sure, maybe it doesn’t sound all that tragic, but in that moment it felt pretty damn bad. My heart hurt and my pride stung.

  What was wrong with me? Why didn’t he like me? Despite the fact that he’d never made a move or asked me out, I’d thought he’d liked me too. I seriously did. I’d thought he’d had the same feelings and was just worried about acting on them.

  Oh God, I’d been so dumb. I let out a little moan and then froze in shock as big, strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me close. For half a second I resisted and we stood there in this super awkward embrace in which I was a rigid lamppost and he was brutally trying to get me to lean against him.

  Finally, I caved. He won. In my defense, though, he was one strong guy. His bicep was like the size of my head. But while he was all hard muscle, he was still oddly comforting to lean against.

  And he smelled good. He’d always smelled good. I kind of wanted to ask his mom what dryer sheets she bought that made his shirts smell so homey and delicious but then that would kill the mystery. Besides, I had a feeling it wasn’t just his detergent and dryer sheets, or his soap and shampoo—it was the combination that made his scent so uniquely Brian.

  After what felt like ages leaning against him he broke the sniffling silence. “So,” he said gently. So gently it made more tears well up. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “No,” I said. But my voice was wobbly and even I could hear the defeat.

  He waited patiently with his chin propped on top of my head and my nose buried in his chest. I didn’t want to tell him. I mean Brian, of all people. But then again, I needed to talk to someone and let out some of this hurt and there was no one else around.

  There was no one else, period.

  That’s the really crappy thing about falling for your best friend. If he doesn’t feel the same way, who do you turn to?

  In my case the answer turned out to be my former best friend. I reasoned to myself that he was probably the best option anyways since he’d already witnessed my most humiliating moments and since it didn’t matter what he thought anyway. After tonight we’d go back to being the king jock and the loner and my secret shame would be just one more piece of our buried history.

  I knew he’d keep it to himself. Brian Kirkland might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t petty like that. He could keep his mouth shut.

  Between sniffles I told him how the night got started and he interrupted almost immediately. “You still go to the movies alone?”

  I pulled back long enough to glare at him. “Are you going to interrupt to judge me every five seconds?”

  He rolled his eyes with a sigh and pulled me back in for a snuggle. “Continue.”

  When I got to the part about Julian and the girl, he groaned. “Such a douche.”

  I didn’t argue even though he wasn’t a douche. He was a good guy who just didn’t feel the same.

  “But he’s not your boyfriend?” he asked.

  I shook my head, wriggling free once more as I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my cardigan. “No. So, as you can see, this is not a case of him being a jerk. It’s a case of me being pathetic.”

  Happily I managed to keep my voice from wobbling again with that lovely little burst of self-pity.

  He pushed my hair back from my face and that was when I realized just how much of it had fallen out of the buns. Half of my hair was hanging in my face, trying to cling to the wet streaks on my cheeks.

  “Would it be too cliché to say it’s his loss?”

  When I looked up, my heart temporarily stopped beating at the kindness in his eyes. His gaze was so gentle, and sweet, and so…familiar. But I hadn’t seen this Brian in years.

  “Yes,” I finally said with a laugh. “Way too cliché.”

  “But what if it’s true?” he insisted, his tone teasingly earnest.

  I pretended to mull it over as I toyed with the frayed edges of my sweater. “Still too hokey.”

  He winced. “Damn.”

  I nodded, pretending to be serious. “Sorry.”

  He grinned and I found that I was smiling back. What were we even talking about? I’d totally lost track.

  But then the moment passed and I found myself back in reality. What prompted this plummet back to the real world? I’d caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror near the TV. Oh good God.

  I swiped away the last of the tears and turned partially away. The lighting down here wasn’t the best so maybe he wouldn’t notice the red splotchy patches and the swollen nose.

  “So, what about you?” I asked. Distract, distract, distract.

  He sounded taken aback. “What about me?”

  I turned back. “What are you doing here?”

  For a minute there I think he forgot too because he clearly had to think and then…oh yeah, then I saw guilt.

  Oh Lord, save me from any more drama. But putting this off wouldn’t help anything. In fact, focusing on the play and his scheduling issues might actually be a good thing. Better than wallowing alone in front of a sappy movie, I supposed.

  He scratched the back of his head and my anxiety went on high alert. Oh no. He couldn’t be—he wouldn’t do that—

  “I’m quitting the play.”

  He did it. This was what I’d wanted from day one. I’d been secretly hoping he’d show his flaky nature and his lack of commitment to this play, and now that he’d done it?

  I was disappointed.

  Not disappointed that we wouldn’t be working together, obviously. That was a relief. But disappointed in him. For the first time in years I’d caught a glimpse of my former friend beneath that awful quarterback image of his that always made me want to smack first and ask questions later.

  I have no idea why that little glimpse made me think he was different…or that he wasn’t different? I was confusing myself. All I knew was, he was still the jerk quarterback. He was just a self-absorb jock who didn’t respect anything but football.

  Anger coiled inside me and that brief moment of closeness we’d had felt like a lie. “Of course you are.” My voice held every ounce of my disgust and I saw him flinch before hardening in the face of my anger.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

  I shrugged. “I mean I totally expected this from you.”

  He shook his head quickly. “What are you talking about? You have no idea what’s going on in my life.”

  I crossed my arms. “Enlighten me.”

  He hesitated and in that brief hesitation I caught a flicker of the old Brian. My Brian. Then it was gone and he was an ass. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I just wanted to give you a heads up so you could start finding my replacement.”

  He started to walk away and that made me even angrier. My emotions were all over the place tonight and I couldn’t rein them in. I was pissed that he was walking away from me, that he was walking away from the play and all the people who were counting on him without even an explanation.

  I knew he’d only been doing it for Hayley, but still. He’d committed to me…to us, I meant. The whole cast and crew. And now he just thought he could walk away?

  “What’s your girlfriend going to say?” I asked. I’ll admit it, my tone was antagonistic. I sounded childish. But then again, I felt childish whenever Brian was around. I felt like that pathetic junior high kid who just wanted to be enough for her friend.

  But I was never enough. Brian Kirkland would never choose me.

  He stopped but his back was still to me as he hovered before the steps leading upstairs. His hands clenched into fists at his side. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

  The silence in the basement was made that much more awkward by the sound of romantic music swelling. My parents always turned the volume up way too high and right now we could hear the romantic crescendo as I t
ried to figure out what to say to that. I was torn between curiosity, sympathy, and anger.

  Sympathy won out. Here I’d been crying over a guy who wasn’t even my boyfriend and Brian had gone through an actual breakup. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged but he was still standing with his back to me.

  “What happened?”

  “She broke up with me.”

  Boom. Just like that. His voice held no emotion, but without seeing his face I couldn’t tell how upset he was. I took a step closer, awkwardly clasping my hands together because I wasn’t sure what to do with them. Did I reach out and touch him? Pull him into a hug like he’d done for me? I settled for placing a hand on his arm. “Would it be too cliché to say it’s her loss?”

  He turned around and I was relieved to see him smiling at my lame joke. “Way too cliché.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough.” I bit my lip, wishing I had something to say that would make him feel better. “I am sorry, though.”

  He gave me that trademark cocky grin. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  I searched his eyes, studied his expression, searching for some emotion behind that smirk. Nothing. Nada. I took a step back, inexplicably irritated that he wasn’t hurt, and feeling more than a little stupid that he’d seen me cry.

  “You’re serious,” I finally said.

  He lifted one shoulder as if that was an answer. Maybe for him it was. He was so far from heartbroken, it made me annoyed with him all over again. How was he not upset? He’d just gone through a breakup with a girl he supposedly liked. A girl who’d called him baby—ugh—and who made a production out of kissing him in the hallways every single day, as if they were out to set some sort of mission to set a new world record for PDAs. “So what happened?” I asked again.

  His grin faded and he looked exasperated. “Doesn’t matter. I should never have joined this play in the first place. I need to focus on my team.”

  “I could push off most of your rehearsals until after playoffs if that’s the issue.”

  He widened his eyes and I couldn’t blame him. I’d kind of surprised myself with that offer. Why was I going out of my way to keep him in the cast? Especially when he was so incredibly bad. His mind seemed to be going in the same direction.