First of Many

by Ashley Suzanne

  His face mask makes it difficult to read his true expression, but with the slight crinkles at the corner of his eyes has me willing to bet there’s a smile under there. Taking a chance that maybe it is me, I return a grin of my own and mouth “Go, fight, win.” Nodding, he quickly runs behind the quarterback as the ball’s hiked, then he takes off like a bat outta hell, running faster than I’ve ever seen someone run.

  Very impressive, Mr. Thorne.

  Jansen dodges what would’ve been a sack and searches downfield for Rowan, spotting him just before the five-yard line. He pulls back and sends the ball sailing through the air. Rowan catches it without difficulty, cradles it between his arms, and swiftly jogs into the end zone before the members of the opposing team can figure out what the hell’s going on. The entire Cougar crowd’s on their feet, stomping the metal bleachers, cheering for the hot new kid. Horns sound as the school song starts playing, courtesy of the marching band.

  “Onward, onward, go you Cougars, fight for victory,” I start singing along with the rest of the attendees on the home side as the players on the field group around Rowan, patting him on the back. We’ve never been a bad team, but we’ve certainly never been this amazing.

  “Touchdown, Cougars!” the announcer yells as the “fight, fight, fight” part of the song strikes, and I can’t suppress the smile on my face. Sheena, lost in the excitement, begins jumping around like the cheerleaders lined up on the track. Polar opposites, we are, but it’s hard to not love her. Even when she goes out of her way to look like a lunatic. It’s hard to not join in when she makes it look so fun.

  “Did you see that? Oh my gosh, that was amazing,” she screams, dragging me to a few seats recently vacated near the front of the bleachers. They’ll be pissed when they get back, but it’s their own fault. Everyone knows to stay put until halftime, then, and only then, go grab a hotdog or pop. Rookies.

  “It was pretty awesome,” I respond, my miserable attempt at playing it cool and concealing how amazing it really was not getting past Sheena. I try to not be salty about it, but I’m a great swimmer and I’ll never get this. We don’t get to hear the yells from the crowd; our validation comes from winning the heat and getting our water-filled ears to pop after a long race. Oh, and the whole school never shows up to watch us—hell, I wouldn’t, either, the pool is humid and hot as hell. Not that I need the attention, but as excited as I am about Rowan’s touchdown, I’d like a little something when I stomp the girls from Salem by more than three seconds.

  Looking back to the field, I zero in on Rowan still celebrating with his team. He’s taken off his helmet, and even from this distance, his glee is evident. I chuckle to myself as a few of the guys slap Rowan on the ass. Didn’t think it was a real thing, or at least for high school boys. Wouldn’t have pegged them to be comfortable enough with their sexuality to put their hands on another man’s butt. When the kicker takes his spot for the field goal, Rowan looks around—first to my previous location then down more until our eyes lock. This time, there’s no doubt he’s smiling at me. The stadium lights click on, creating a magical feeling. The universe is on my side and everything’s coming up Charlie. I’ve always liked flying under the radar, lurking in the social shadows, but not anymore. Stepping into the light feels great.

  “So is that him?” Sheena asks, nudging my hip with hers. I glance over in time to witness her waggling eyebrows. With this girl, if it’s not one boy, it’s another. And God help me if I let my guard slip and she finds out I might have a thing for Rowan. I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “Is that who?” I feign innocence with a slight attitude—maybe indifference—to throw her off my scent.

  “The reason you tried on like three pairs of jeans and a half-dozen tops before settling on this.” She tosses back her head, giggles, and claps her hands together as if she’s found Carmen San Diego, and that bitch has been right under our noses the whole time. Damn her intuition. Nine times out of ten, I love not having to spell everything out for her because she just gets it. But then there’s that one time she’s too close for comfort, reading signals I’m desperately trying to hide.

  “Did you want me to wear my swimsuit? You did my hair and makeup … least I could do was put on something decent. And him? If by him, you mean the dude who just scored, yeah, that’s the new kid. I met him on the track a couple days ago and he’s taking me out tomorrow night, I think. Well, he said he wanted to do something this weekend. I gave him my number, but I’m not holding my breath. Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” I brush off my insecurities and pretend like I couldn’t possibly care less if he calls or not. Truth be told? I really hope he calls. I’m actually looking forward to trying out this dating thing. It’s not every day you actually want to be asked out by a nice guy instead of feeling accosted any time a boy your age comes near you. Players and man-whores be damned. Your services are no longer needed now that Rowan Thorne moved to town.

  “By the look in his eyes, baby cakes, I don’t think you’re getting tomorrow night. He’s staring at you like he wants you right now.”

  I risk a glance to the sideline only to find Jansen and Rowan looking at us, smiling and holding a conversation of their own.

  “Geez, Sheena, calm down. He only smiled. He didn’t declare his undying love or anything.” Then again, Sheena’s been in love. Ten times. Since third period. She’s the one who falls hard and fast. Again, polar opposites.

  “Yeah, well, he’s only smiling at you. Look.” She gestures toward the bench, and before I even turn my head, I know his stare’s locked on me. Gosh, shoulda acted like I didn’t know him. “That boy has it bad for you.”

  “He does not,” I dismiss, diverting my attention from Rowan. “I want nachos. Coming?” I don’t wait for her to respond before I start making my way down the steps. Yeah, yeah, I know we’ll probably lose our seats, but she’s too observant. I haven’t even figured out if I like the guy and Sheena’s picking out china patterns and wedding colors.

  Sheena follows me, gabbing my ear off the entire way about how much she thinks Rowan digs me. She’s sure of it, even though she’s never said two words to him. To be honest, I kind of am, too. If not, why bother looking and smiling and making me feel all important in a sea of eligible bachelorettes? Unless he knows I haven’t dated, therefore haven’t had sex. Is my virginity enticing?

  And there we go … my 4.0 in overanalyzing everything that could possibly happen is fully intact.

  I’m not sheltered by any means, yet I haven’t had much interest in the opposite sex … until now. I’ve tried going on dates a few times with a couple different guys, mostly over the summer, but none of them held my attention long enough to get a second date. As odd as it is, the way Rowan makes me feel—even if we’ve only had two interactions—is different. I just need to be sure it’s real and not just me seeing things that don’t exist so I’m not a third wheel anymore. As nice as it would be to have a guy of my own, I don’t want to settle for something not real.

  “Nachos and a water, please,” I order when we reach the front of the line. I pull out a ten-dollar bill, ready to pay, when Sheena squeezes in beside to me, undoubtedly adding on to my purchase.

  “And a package of Airheads. Oh, and another water.” Sheena smiles sweetly at me; her way of asking me to pay for her goodies.

  “What she said,” I groan, forking over the cash. The booster hands me back my change and our stuff just in time for the mascot—a six-foot-tall cougar decked out in blue and white—to tap me on the shoulder, damn near causing me to drop everything. Rule number one: if girls are alone at night, don’t sneak up on them. Our daddies taught us how to fight.

  “You’re Charlotte Thompson, right?” he asks with a muffled voice underneath the mask. He couldn’t just take it off?

  “Yeah?” I answer skeptically. “Is that why you creeped up on me? To confirm my name?” Nothing good can come from a wild animal asking questions. “You almost got hit with my superb ninja skills, dude.”
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  “Yeah, and my fist,” Sheena throws in for good measure.

  “Rowan wanted me to tell you to meet him at the diner across the street after the game,” he addresses me and ignores my co-signer.

  “Excuse me?” I reply, shocked, and Sheena’s still pissed about being ignored.

  “Diner. Across the street. After the game. Be there. I gotta go now, they need me. Bye.” Like a furry fury, he runs onto the field in time to do a cartwheel as Rowan scores yet another touchdown. Either this other team sucks really bad or he’s just that good. Not even the obvious ass whoopin’ they’re taking is making this any less fun. Watching Rowan play is my new favorite thing.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Sheena laughs as she picks at my tray of nachos. I’m not sure why she didn’t get her own.

  “Oh shush.” I slap her hand away. “Now they can just be my nachos, sassy pants. They all go there after game night, and judging by the scoreboard, the Tigers aren’t catching up any time soon, so a celebration’s in order.”

  “I guess your little stud muffin couldn’t wait until tomorrow night to take you out. Who would have thought?” She giggles again. I can’t lie; inside, I’m giggling, too. When she’s right, she’s right.

  “Or maybe he just wants to hang out. Chill with people he knows? You ever think of that? He is new here and can’t possibly know many people.” Is this a girl thing? Finding every excuse to think the boy doesn’t like you when he really does? If so, we’re all stupid.

  “Nope.” Sheena winks as she pops a piece of candy in her mouth. “He wants the goods and he wants ‘em bad. And P.S., Charlie, football players in every school in the history of ever know everyone. It’s written in the rules.”

  Again, when she’s right, she’s right. Who thought it was a good idea to let me teenage girl for the first time ever?

  We walk back to the bleachers side by side, me refusing to entertain her wild ideas about Rowan’s recent request because, duh, dumb girls. Instead, I overanalyze each word spoken by the man-cat, wondering if he got something lost in translation somewhere. I mean, it can’t be easy to hear inside that costume, especially a man who was speaking through a helmet. And his talking was awfully muffled. Maybe I’m the one who heard wrong. On the off chance we are invited to dinner, Rowan’s probably being nice after seeing Sheena and me in the stands and didn’t want us to feel left out of the unofficial victory party. Yeah, that’s it. He’s just being a gentleman. And I kind of like it. I’m gonna start blaming my new attitude on hormones, heat, and chlorine poisoning.

  *****

  I try, and I mean really try, to go straight home after the game. Sheena, my driver for the evening, wasn’t having any of my introvert tendencies, literally forcing me to leave her car behind in the school parking lot and hoof it across the street to the diner. The noise inside’s deafening. The small building has to be pushing max capacity. Damn near everyone came to congratulate the boys. Hell, even parents are at the counter putting money down on the players’ tab.

  “Doesn’t look like there’re any tables, dude. We should head home, it’s getting kind of late.” I try again to reason with Sheena and get out of here, but still, no such luck. Looks like the universe finally got its shit together. All’s right in the world.

  “Nobody has a table, Charlie. It’s a free for all. Hang out, meet new people, have a little fun.” The jukebox plays a Top 40 hit, barely audible, unless you’re Sheena, who starts wiggling around while searching for her other friends. And her latest love interest—Jansen Avery.

  “I know all these people. So do you. We’ve known them since we were five. They’re not new to us.” Am I supposed to get chummy with the staff? Coaches? My phone?

  “Oh, okay. Try this one on then. Pick out five people, other than me, who you know but haven’t talked to in a while. And by a while, I mean more than asked for a pencil during class or did a skit with in fourth grade. Like, someone you haven’t hung out with since freshman year. Just loosen up, Charlie. And go …” She hardly finishes her sentence before she’s off chatting with a group of kids across the room.

  Glancing around the small, crowded area, I can’t pick out anyone I really, truly know. Sure, I’ve got their names down pat, but that’s about it. If I didn’t think Sheena would interrogate me later—since she knows everything about everyone—I’d just make up a conversation. I can’t handle the Rowan thing, the Sheena catching me in a lie thing, and the all-knowing Oz calling me out for having a Rowan thing to begin with all in one night.

  “Can I get a pop, please?” I ask the middle-aged woman behind the counter.

  “Sure. A buck fifty,” she responds while adding ice and cola to the glass. Handing her the change in my pocket from the concession stand, I exchange it for my drink.

  Obviously, this isn’t as easy as Sheena’d like to believe. I look more foolish than cool, standing here, waiting for something exciting to happen. Instead, I start eavesdropping into other’s conversations while Sheena flits around the room like the social butterfly she is. It’s easier for some of us, what can I say? My bedroom and a book, or maybe some summer assignments, sound more fun than this. The older I get, the more internal I become. Usually, I don’t mind, but tonight, I wish I had the confidence of Sheena instead of my social awkwardness.

  A few guys to my right are talking about the great plays during the game, fully animated with high-fives and chest bumps. The girls next to them are discussing how cute they are—probably their boyfriends—and the woman behind the counter continues to take orders. When Jansen walks through the front door, Sheena wastes no time cozying up to his side like they’ve been dating for years, when in all actuality, they only started “talking”. I’m not sure if Jansen’s ever had a girlfriend. I bet if you ask the girls they’ll say they dated him, but Jansen has a totally different end game, as noted by the endless trail of broken hearts.

  I hate that term, by the way. Talking. You’re either just hanging out as friends or you’re dating. To me, talking means something more along the lines of “we can sleep together every once in a while, but I don’t really want to have a serious relationship,” and it makes me angry for Sheena, but she’s not stupid by any means. She knows what she’s getting into. With long, gorgeous blonde hair and bright-blue eyes, she’s the object of many suiters’ affections, but she never pays any one person more time than the other. She claims to be a free spirit, and because she’s my best friend since forever, I know that means she’s a little on the slutty side, but whatever makes her happy, right? Provided she’s careful, which by all accounts and the gory-detailed stories, she is. So maybe, even though she falls for boys like I brush my teeth, she falls out just as fast, and Jansen may have just met his match. Sheena has a trail of brokenhearted suitors just as long.

  “Hey.” Rowan sneaks up next to me and whispers in my ear while I’m lost trying to find the deeper meaning to Sheena’s relationship status. What’s with everyone trying to give me a heart attack tonight? Can’t a girl get a warning?

  “Hey.” Turning, I smile up at Rowan, truly taking in his features. Dark hair with eyes to match, a large frame, but not too large, and the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. “Great game tonight.” I don’t bother bitching about the scare since, well, I’m enjoying looking at him. “Thanks. Wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow. Welcome surprise.”

  Before he can get a word in edge wise, I continue with my babbling.

  “Not that I mind,” I add, doing my best to recover and not sound disappointed with the change of plans. I’d do a lot better if I stopped talking altogether, I bet. “What was with sending the carrier pigeon … errrr … cougar?”

  “I guess when you see a pretty girl watching you play, and you don’t want to wait until the next night to spend time with her, you send in the mascot. What other purpose could he serve?”

  It’s scary how easy it is with Rowan. One second I’m a ball of nerves, then he hits me with a little humor and I relax.

 
“You’re adorable, you know that?” I suddenly want to pull my shirt over my head and disappear. Adorable? What is he? Five? Alright, maybe if he does all the talking it’ll be easy. I’ll just nod every once in a while. Toss in a laugh here and there, too. Reminder to self: apologize to Sheena for making fun of the way she interacts with boys. She’s right … again.

  “Ahhhh, so you do think I’m attractive. I was wondering.” He chuckles, grabs onto my hand, and begins weaving us through the crowded diner. So awkward works for him? Put that on the “Pro” list.

  Near the back, by the restrooms, a four-top table with only two seats occupied by Jansen and Sheena is where we end up. How he was able to know exactly where our friends were without ever taking his eyes off me, I’ll never know.

  “Jansen has a table after every game. He knew I’d invited you to come, and since you’re his girl’s best friend, we get a table. Hell, from what I can tell about this town, if you wear a jersey and play ball, you get preferential treatment.” He’s not wrong about that. And awesome mind-reading trick.

  “She’s not his girl,” I retort defensively, remembering his statement about Sheena.

  “Then what is she?” Rowan points at the pair, who are locked at the lips, and I have zero interest in finding out where their hands are since they’re hidden beneath the table top. “Sure looks like his girl to me.”

  “They’re just talking.” Resisting the urge to tell him his quarterback and captain is a whore of epic proportions, I shake my head, disgusted that I used the exact phrase I complained about only moments before.

  “Which one’s the slutty one?” he casually asks in a hushed tone, obviously feeling the same way about the “talking” verbiage as I do. “I got my money on Jansen.”

  “Right, but also wrong. If I had to guess who wanted this arrangement more, therefore the sluttier one, I’d say Sheena, but if you tell her I said that, I’ll kill you,” I warn, gaining me a sinfully handsome, perfectly straight and white-toothed grin.