A God in Carver (Carver High #1)

by Haven Francis

  “Oh yeah? Well maybe you should start dating Karen Johnson. Her parent’s just gave her their old minivan.”

  “I wouldn’t trade you for anything, Summer. Not even for a girl with a minivan.”

  “You’re too good to me,” she says through her laughter.

  We’re approaching the pole barn when Presley comes storming out of it looking pissed off. Her, with a pissed off expression, isn’t new but Summer can’t stand to look at a dejected face and not stop to try and help. “Hold on a minute,” she says, squeezing my hand.

  “Go work your magic,” I tell her, releasing her hand, telling my body it’s gonna be a while before it gets any kind of release.

  “Hey Presley, everything okay?” Summer asks her.

  “It’s fine. I just need a breather. I don’t know why the hell she insists on dragging me to these things. I just end up hating her even more the next day.” She doesn’t have to specify. She’s talking about her cousin and roommate, Jolee.

  I laugh and Summer shoots me a look of disappointment.

  “It’s okay, he can laugh,” Presley says. “She’s absolutely ridiculous. She knows that he’s dating Tatum now, yet she can’t seem to keep her hands off of him. She doesn’t even care that she might be hurting the girl.”

  “Nash?” I ask, pissed off already. He worked damn hard to get Tatum to commit to him and she’s worth it. He knows that. He better not be fucking it up for that skank Jolee.

  “Who else?” Presley says, annoyed.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Summer.

  “They’re in that back room,” Presley alerts me.

  I head around the girls and into the barn, my eyes searching for Nash or Tatum. I see her sitting up on the hood of a car that’s being worked on. She’s surrounded by some of the football players and cheerleaders and smiling like she didn’t despise all of them a few weeks ago. I don’t know if she’s actually enjoying herself or if she’s only doing this for Nash. Either way, the sight of her makes the adrenaline course through my veins and by the time I make it to the back storage area I’m ready to punch his face in. The door’s locked so I start pounding on it. “Nash, open the fucking door,” I say as loudly as I can without drawing attention to myself.

  A second later the door opens and the smell of weed comes wafting out. “Eastman, is that you? I can’t see through the haze,” Nash says, laughing.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask him, fisting his t-shirt and pulling him to me.

  “Whoa, calm down, man,” he says, pushing me off of him.

  “If you touch him, we’re gonna have a problem.” I turn my eyes to Nash’s brother and realize that Jolee is back here, but so is Nate, Colby, Reggie and Camilla.

  “Shit. Sorry, man. Presley made it sound like it was just you and Jolee back here,” I say under my breath so the rest of the room won’t hear me.

  “Of course not,” he says, slapping me on the back. “You want a hit? Nate just got a new supplier and his shit is unbelievable.”

  “No, man. You know I don’t smoke.”

  “Alright,” he says shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s get you out of here then.” He wraps his arm around me as he walks me out of the room. “Jolee is looking damn fine tonight. I get it… why Presley would be worried.”

  “I really hope you’re not that stupid.”

  “No…I’m not. Look at that girl,” he says, his heavy-lidded eyes staring at Tatum.

  “Exactly. If you’re smart you won’t even look at another girl.”

  Nash laughs loudly. “I can’t even glance at one? Even if she’s got a nice rack?”

  “Especially not if she’s got a nice rack. You’re gonna screw this up, Nash.”

  “She loves me, my friend. She’s not going anywhere. Trust me.”

  “I know the women think you’re pretty damn good looking but you’re not good looking enough to deserve her. Don’t forget that.”

  “Shut up, Eastman. You’re ruining my high.” He takes his arm off my shoulder and parts the crowd that Tatum’s a part of, going to her and wrapping her legs around his hips. I glance at the door and see Presley and Summer in what looks like a deep discussion so I follow Nash into the small crowd.

  It’s still strange to see Tatum at one of these parties, smiling and talking football. I like having her around but part of me is still protective of her. Summer told me that the reason Tatum dropped out of any kind of social circle was because of the rift in our friendship. She also told Summer she was happier after it happened and I believe that. I don’t want Tatum to lose herself to these people.

  “You played a good game tonight, Eastman,” she tells me – the same words I’ve heard out of dozens of mouths tonight, which seems wrong. Tatum’s never been like everyone else.

  “Thanks,” I tell her, my mouth unwilling to loosen up.

  “She was screaming so loud when you threw the game winning pass I still can’t hear out of my left ear,” Macy, one of the spirit girls that Tatum used to detest but now apparently sits by at games, tells me with a giggle.

  Tatum smiles at her and I ask myself why I give a shit that she’s changing, that she’s willing to be a normal high school girl.

  “Well damn, baby, you must have had an orgasm when I intercepted that pass,” Nash says, ducking his head to bury his mouth behind her ear.

  “I’ll definitely be thinking about that when we go to bed tonight,” she says loud enough for all of us to hear which makes all the guys snicker.

  This is another part of Tatum I’m not used to seeing. I’m used to the girl who has defenses in place. Who is smart enough to know that openly lusting after Nash Carter makes her look weak and sad just like all the other girls. I’m used to the Tatum who would tell Nash off if he ever tried to touch her in public. The first time I had to see them going at it, since that first time when they were twelve, was at the party after the football banquet. She let him grope her in front of anyone who cared to watch. It pissed me off. The Tatum I knew had more respect for herself.

  “You hear that, man?” Nash asks me through his laughter. “You might make the girls scream, but I’m the one they’re thinking of when they go to bed at night.”

  Jesus, as much as I love the kid he’s such a jackass. How can he be the guy Tatum chose? The one she’s always chosen. I suppress the words I want to say and instead, reach out and slap Nash’s hand. “Thanks for the hospitality. You better have your ass up bright and early for practice.”

  “You taking off already?”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna go hang with my girl for a while.”

  “Hell yes, go get you some of that good girl,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder.

  “Don’t, Carter. Don’t talk about her like that,” I tell him severely before turning to Tatum. She gives me a tight smile that I used to know well. She’s holding back something she wants to say. I look at her for a few seconds, giving her the opportunity to speak. When she doesn’t I give her a stiff, awkward hug and tell her goodbye.

  I walk over to Summer and Presley who are both laughing now. “Everything was cool,” I tell them, wrapping my arm around Summer.

  Presley raises her doubtful eyes at me. “Well it wasn’t for lack of effort on Jolee’s part.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m pretty sure he’s only got eyes for one girl and it’s not Jolee.”

  “I’m sorry, maybe you miss understood me earlier… I was talking about Nash Carter?”

  I manage a laugh.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Summer tells her with a wave before turning me around and heading to my car. “I have to be home in fifteen minutes. I’m sorry, babe.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad I got to be with you for most of the night,” I tell her, but I’m annoyed. Not with her, obviously, but with Nash and the fact that I spent the time I could have had with Summer dealing with his untrustworthy ass.

  16

  I hate Sunday brunch and this is exactly the re
ason why, I think as local business owner, Sonny Nerone tells me, “You played a hell of a game on Friday, son.”

  “Thank you sir,” I tell him, making eye contact and smiling confidently.

  “You have Melborne coming up this week. Best defense in the state is what they’re saying about those boys. Does Coach Mason have a strategy in place?”

  The people in this town are going to have Coach Mason’s head when they find out what kind of strategy he has in place. Jesus. I was the only starter that showed up on time and minus a hangover for practice on Saturday morning. With our winning streak going strong the guys have been becoming complacent and Coach has been slowly losing his patience. And yesterday he hit his breaking point, suspending all the starters besides me. Which will mean that on Friday I’ll be playing with our second string. Which, unless we manage to pull off a miracle, means that come Saturday morning there will be a price on Coach Masons head. God damn it.

  “Coach Mason is always prepared. Don’t worry Mr. Nerone, we’ll still be undefeated after Friday’s game.”

  “It’s good to be confident, boy, but if you let your guard down those Melborne boys will run you over.”

  “My guard is never down.”

  “Okay, son,” he says laughing and slapping me on the back. “Don’t let us down.” He shakes my dad’s hand one last time before walking away.

  I unintentionally flair my nostrils. We’ve been at The End Zone for an hour now and I can’t manage to take a bite of my burger. He’s the fifth person that’s felt the need to come by and let me know that I better not let Carver down. This is after two hours at church where I got the same speeches. Pastor Dahl even included me in his closing prayers.

  “Don’t,” my dad warns me.

  “I would just like to eat my lunch,” I mutter.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately but you better turn that attitude around,” he seethes so close to my ear I can feel the heat of his breath.

  Summer wraps her hand around my thigh and squeezes in an act of support. I take a deep breath and turn to smile at her.

  “Y’all doing okay over here?” Tatum asks with the bright smile she always manages to produce when she’s working.

  “I’ll have another one of these, sweetie,” my mom says, holding up her empty vodka cranberry.

  “She’s good,” my dad tells Tatum. “We’ll take the check.”

  “Sounds good,” she tells him, her eyes veering to mine for a split second. It’s long enough to see the concern there. I shouldn’t have whined to her the other week about my family. As my dad likes to remind me regularly, what goes on behind the closed doors of the Eastman house is no one’s business but ours.

  “I heard you were at her house the other week,” Dylan, my fifteen-year-old brother says with a shit eating grin on his face. “Those Austin girls are hot. Did any of them strip for you?”

  Kellen, my thirteen-year-old brother, holds his fist up to his mouth to mask his snicker. Meghan, my little sister gasps, my mom smirks and my dad, despite the fact that a flare of my nostrils had him all over my ass, ignores Dylan completely.

  “That’s not a nice thing to say,” Summer tells him.

  “Why? It’s the truth isn’t it? Everyone knows what they’re like.”

  “Well everyone is wrong. Tatum is about the most decent girl I know and she has a very nice family,” Summer tells him with hurt in her voice.

  “I don’t want you over at their house anymore,” my dad casually tells me in a harsh tone.

  “Why not?” I ask, just as casually, not looking at him.

  “You need to start looking and acting like you’re worthy of the respect you get around here.”

  “And no respectable man would be seen on the south side of town?”

  “Don’t test me, Brandon. If you’re going to start associating with Tatum we’re gonna have a problem.”

  I shake my head and push my chair back. Roger grabs a hold of it, stopping me, and tells me, “You can leave when I tell you it’s time to go.”

  My eyes meet Kellen’s that are big with fear. He cried for an entire afternoon the last time I got into it with Dad. For his sake, and the rest of my families, I move my chair forward again.

  Tatum walks over with our check. “Can I take any of these plates away?”

  My dad takes out a wad of twenties, shoves them in the check holder and tells her, “We’re done here,” throwing it down on the table and standing.

  We all follow him and I avoid Tatum’s eyes as I walk past her.

  “Y’all have a good afternoon,” she says and I can hear the biting undertone in her voice.

  “Drop her off then get your ass back home,” my dad tells me, making sure that I’m the only one that can hear his threat.

  I don’t acknowledge him before getting in my Mustang and slamming the door shut.

  I watch him as he crosses the lot with the rest of my family. He wraps an arm around Kellen’s shoulder and playfully rustles his hair. Dylan’s too self-involved to notice the problems in his own home, Meghan spends most of her time in her room reading or playing with her dolls, but Kellen is sensitive and observant so my dad goes out of his way to make sure he still worships the ground my dad walks on.

  “You okay?” Summer asks from the passenger seat.

  “Of course, life is perfect.”

  “He just wants what’s best for you,” she tells me in her sweet voice while reaching out to take a hold of my hand. Generally, Summer’s positive outlook on everything is good for me. She has a way of making even the worst shit seem okay but lately the way she insists that everything is great perpetuates the gnawing inside of me.

  “He wants what’s best for him and the fact that his son is the perfect model citizen who is carrying the Carver Cougars through a winning season is good for his business and his reputation.”

  “He’s just trying to make sure you stay focused. It’s just what parents do, Brandon. It’s his job to make sure you’re making the right decisions.”

  “And associating with Tatum would be a wrong decision?”

  “No. Of course not. You know that’s not what I think. All I’m saying is that it’s what he believes and he’s trying to protect you.”

  I look at her concerned eyes. There’s never been a girl more perfect than Summer Brooks. She doesn’t have a single flaw. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She treats me better than I’ve ever been treated. She has a strong faith and genuinely likes just about everyone she meets and everyone loves her. She’s smart as hell, a great leader, the most talented cheerleader Carver has. And she’s mine.

  I reach over and pull her to me, careful to keep my kiss gentle. I don’t know what’s gotten into me but every time I touch her lately it’s too rough or too risky, according to her. After I talked to Coach yesterday and got the news about the upcoming game, I went to Summer’s house. I didn’t want to talk to her about what happened, I just wanted to tear her clothes off and forget for a while. When I pushed my hand up her skirt while we stood in her kitchen, her family in the living room, she looked at me like I was a monster and told me she didn’t recognize me sometimes.

  More and more, that’s how things end between us lately. It makes me feel like an asshole. But it’s not something I can help. It’s the first time I’ve felt like I need more from Summer. I need some kind of physical release that I’m not getting from her of football. There’s something building inside of me and I don’t know how to get it out. And I feel like I’m not the guy she wants or needs. When I feel like that I don’t even recognize myself.

  “You’re the strongest person I know and you’re going to be great,” she says after I release her and situate myself back in my seat.

  “You’re right,” I tell her, squeezing her hand that’s wrapped in mine.

  I manage to keep the smile on my face until I have Summer safely delivered home. As I drive the half mile to my house I contemplate turning around. I let myself pretend t
hat I have the balls to drive away from all of this shit, or at the very least stand up to my dad. Or, hell, maybe even quit playing ball altogether. It pisses me off that I no longer enjoy the game that, for at least two years, was the only thing that made me happy.

  When I pull up my driveway Dad is in the sprawling front yard, changed into a pair of jeans and a Cougar’s sweatshirt, throwing the ball around with Dylan and Kellen. He almost looks like the dad I used to have.

  Inside, my mom is at the kitchen table, flipping the pages on some home decorating magazine. She’s got a coffee cup in her hand but I know that the buzz she’s gonna get from the liquid inside isn’t gonna come from caffeine. “Hey, sweetie,” she says, shutting her magazine and smiling up at me.

  “Anything good in there?” I ask, taking a seat across the table from her.

  “I need to redecorate Meghan’s room. She’s too old for princesses but every time I try to talk to her about changing it she gets mad.”

  Meghan has a bed that looks like a carriage and a pink chandelier dripping with crystals. The custom doll house with all kinds of little furniture is her pride and joy but Mom will take it all away from her because it’s “dated” and doesn’t look like an eleven-year-old’s room should look. “She loves her room, Mom. Why don’t you just shut the door when we have people over?”

  “She has to stop acting like a little girl. That room of hers just perpetuates her immaturity.”