“Right,” he humors me, nodding. “Tackling and throwing the ball and running and stuff, that’s definitely what I did or do—whatever.” He chuckles, but it’s a nervous one, and his free hand goes to run through his wet strands, further messing them up.
I casually pop another Altoids into my mouth and chew slowly, buying myself some moments before I have to speak again and hopefully end this horrendous interaction.
“Well, sorry, again,” I mumble, and Erin must finally get the hint because she’s at my side a few seconds later, smile still perched on her pretty little face. I glare at her as we make our way past the other players and toward the parking lot.
“Hey, wait,” football dude calls.
I glance back, tensing, waiting for what more he possibly has to say. “I didn’t get your name.”
“You didn’t ask for it,” I throw back, smiling politely as my stomach clenches with an emotion I’m not quite familiar with, one that sparks with interest toward the guy we’re walking away from.
“You know who that is, don’t you?” Erin asks at the same time that he responds with, “I definitely should have. I’m Julian.”
I throw another wave his way but offer no other words.
Instead, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and getting the heck out of here. As far as interactions go, that was unexpected and weird. He did look familiar though, so I’m sure I’ve seen him before.
“Okay, that was sort of a train wreck, but I am so thankful for the entertainment it provided me,” Erin says when we’re seated in her car.
“You are seriously terrible, you know that?” I ask with a laugh, shaking my head at her. “Let’s just go get ready and head to the kickback. The sooner we do, the sooner we can be done with this night. I’ve done enough peopling for an entire month.”
Her amber eyes roll, and I stick my tongue out in response.
“I’m just surprised you’ve yet to make the connection between Julian and that perfect match of yours.”
“Oh yeah, and what connection is that, Miss Know-It-All?” My tone is mocking, but curiosity craves her response.
“Well, Julian is best friends with Braxton. Everyone knows this,” she shares like it’s a well-known fact. “Do we even go to the same school? I mean, obviously we do, but you’re so out of the loop with things like this that I have to wonder.”
“I get my information from books, and I immerse myself in those worlds,” I start to say before I’m cut off.
“—which aren’t real,” she declares. “You should get your information from the real world and immerse yourself here. At our ten-year reunion, you’ll be full of regrets if you don’t.”
My face contorts at the thought. “Can we not mention life ten years from now? It’s frightening enough thinking about what’s going to happen nine months from now.”
She sighs. “Fine. But back to what I was saying, Julian is your in.”
“My in? With Braxton, I’m assuming?” I sound bored, and I am. What little excitement I felt about this whole prospect of a crush thing is dwindling the deeper into this mission we get.
“Come on, live a little. I love you, but you wanted a crush, and so that’s exactly what we’re going to get you,” Erin spews confidently. “Even if we have to go through your future crush’s best friend to make that happen.”
“Oh, can’t wait,” I voice a little over-joyously so that she knows how unjoyous this is becoming. “Listen, I know you’re invested, but based on what you’ve shared, I’m finding it hard to believe that Braxton is my top match. I can’t imagine based on my traits and whatnot that I’d match with someone as popular and boisterous as he is.”
“Well, the results don’t lie, so there.” She shrugs, lips pursing. “Besides, who are we to question this glorious gift that fate has dropped into our laps?”
Her tone is full of sarcasm, and I roll my eyes. “Let’s just get this night over with. I’m already looking forward to sleep.”
Three
I yawn as we enter the gate leading into the backyard where the kickback will be—where it always is, according to Erin, who’s actually really knowledgeable about the ins and outs of all things social at our school. Good for her. My best friend lives for drama, which I know for sure is the only reason she’s so invested in all things social.
“Are you seriously yawning right now?” Erin’s voice is an appalled whisper, and a pinch meets my side.
I narrow my eyes, resisting the urge to kick her in the shin. “I told you that I was tired, so yes, I am seriously yawning.”
“Okay, well, before we step in, I need you to shake that tiredness away because our mission to snag you a guy will officially commence the second we step into the kickback atmosphere.”
“Kickback atmosphere?” I repeat, confusion drawing my brows together. “Are you sure you’re not the tired one? You’re being a bit more looney—yeah, I said it—than usual.”
When my hand presses against her forehead to mock check for a raised temperature, she smacks it away, mouth agape in frustration. I can’t help but laugh at how serious she’s taking this whole thing.
“I’m just excited, okay? You’ve shown rarely any interest in dating and hookups and crushes in the entire time I’ve known you, so excuse me while I completely milk this and push as far as I can.” She sounds exasperated, and I know by her tone of voice that she’s not genuinely asking to be excused for anything—she’s unapologetic and honest, and if this is what she wants to happen, then far be it from me to resist the inevitable.
I pause, shaking my thoughts as I realize how repetitive they are. Maybe I’m not as cool as a cucumber as I’d like to be.
I sigh, slanting a hesitant, apologetic smile her way. “Alright, tiredness gone. It’s been shaken. Are we doing this thing or not?”
“What kind of question is that? You know damn well we are.”
And just like that, with two measly steps forward, we’re fully in the kickback, completely surrounded and enveloped by it. That kickback atmosphere Erin mentioned before? Yeah, I get what she means. I’d forgotten how intense it can be when you’re not distracted by, say, the Kindle app on your phone. Weird.
“Okay, I’ll admit, as far as kickbacks go, this one doesn’t look like it’ll completely suck,” I voice, eyes roaming the expansive space of the backyard where the bulk of the get-together appears to be. A quick look at the house and its windows confirms there are a few stragglers inside, but outside is clearly where it’s at.
It seems like half the school is here, and most people are in small groups talking with drinks in their hands while others are crowded around the few tables set up and playing a drinking game or something.
“See, told you it wouldn't completely suck.” She sounds proud, of course. “Kickbacks are more laid-back and chill, hence the not-too-loud conversations and low music. Plus, the last time I took you to a rager, it did not end well.”
I shiver at the memory and roll my eyes at how hermit-like she makes me sound. I’ve been to kickbacks and other parties with her before. I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I hadn’t? Still, I laugh at her reminder.
“Yeah, it sure did not. But to be fair, what did you expect would happen when we decided to take a shot every time someone, anyone, said the word ‘like’?”
“Okay, that memory needs to go away because there’s no place for it here,” she playfully snaps.
Once we’re both settled with drinks in our hands, me with a 7-Up and her a White Claw, we both peruse the room. I sway my body to the low tones of classic Drake—“Shot For Me,” anyone?—and listen as she grumbles in frustration at not having found the guy we’re here for.
I smirk as her body perks up when a girl in a dress too short for this cool fall breeze walks by.
“At this rate, you’ll be the one with the crush by the time the night ends,” I muse, quirking a brow at her as I take a sip of soda.
“Please, like I’d ever leave here with just o
ne crush.” She scoffs. “You know what? This waiting in a corner is doing nothing for our mission, so I’m going to go find Braxton and bring him to you. Uh-huh, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Be right back.”
“Sure thing,” I start to respond, but she’s no longer beside me when the words leave my mouth. Instead, she’s walking fast-paced toward the girl who walked by moments ago, no doubt about to not find Braxton and bring him straight to me.
And now I’m all alone at a kickback where mostly everyone is already locked in groups, completely comfortable with one another. I envy that. I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
After a few more minutes of people watching and the realization that Erin is going to be occupied for the night—if her flirtatious, loud laughter that I can hear even several yards away is any indicator—then the mission is moot, right? Because no mission can ever truly be completed without one’s trusty sidekick.
Right. I nod to myself and take the opportunity to slip out. Only I don’t slip out because once I step through the barely open gate, I’m fully rushed into by a strong, solid guy.
Typical. Cliche. Seems about right for how this night is progressing.
I’m definitely falling butt first onto the concrete beneath my feet. In three, two, one…
Except I don’t fall. No, instead I’m gripped on either side of my body by someone I’d already had one too many run-ins with tonight alone.
A sheepish smile graces his handsome features, and I feel his fingers flex against my body, his grip tightening gently to ensure I’m upright before he lets go.
But he doesn’t let go. No, his tightened grip stays rooted for a few excruciatingly long seconds before he slowly pulls his hands back and shoves them in the front pockets of his zip-up, a nervous smile playing on his lips.
“Sorry about that,” Julian says, lips twisting in what looks to be amusement now. “I was running through just as you were stepping out, and then clash we went.”
A laugh bubbles in my chest, and I shake my head at his choice of words. “We clashed, did we?”
His head lowers just a smidge. “Well, what else would you call it?”
“I’m not sure I’d put enough thought into it to classify it as anything, to be honest,” I respond bluntly, tone remaining playful.
“You gonna give me your name yet?” he asks, body moving mere inches from mine. People squeeze by us, and I should feel bad for blocking their way in and out, but I don’t feel anything but bold curiosity for the guy standing in front of me.
I pull on my bottom lip, mulling it over. My name, that’s all he wants. No need to be nervous.
Sure, reiterate that to the nerves building in your lower belly.
“Devon,” I tell him, voice laced with a nervous raspiness. “Satisfied?”
“Devon,” he repeats, rolling my name off his tongue like it’s been there all along.
My stomach somersaults, and I curse my teenage hormones, the need to pop an Altoids strong in this very moment.
I swallow back the nerves, fingers twitching against the cup of 7-Up somehow still in my hands.
“Well, Devon, the best parts of the night haven’t even happened yet. Why are you leaving so soon?” His deep voice makes the small hairs on my arms stand on end, and he isn’t even doing anything special with his tone, he’s just talking.
Even though the heroines in my favorite romance novels would be proud at the way I’m reacting, it doesn’t sit well with me. It’s too foreign, and I’m not used to it, so I clear my throat and toss a question back his way, purposely ignoring him. “And what are these so-called best parts that you’re referring to?”
“The ones where I retain my crown as king of beer pong and flip cup—I’m a multiyear champion, ya know—and give everyone something to talk about at school for the rest of the week until the next game and kickback or party or whatever.” His tone is confident but not in a cocky way, just in a way that proves how sure of himself he is.
“Oh, you’re that good, huh?”
“Oh, yeah, so you really can’t leave.” His brown eyes seem to be pleading with my own, and as easy as it would be to walk right on past him and wait for Erin to be ready to leave, it would definitely be considered taking the easy way out. That’s not something I want to do. I mean, it would defeat the purpose of senior year and being seventeen and young and—and what would a night of truly letting go actually do? Not end the world, that’s for sure.
“What do you say, Devon? Want to hang with me for a bit?”
I don’t give myself any more time to think it over, don’t let myself overanalyze a situation that is innocent. Besides, if what Erin said is true and he is Braxton’s right-hand guy, then it’d be the perfect opportunity to get closer to snagging that number one match of mine. Right? Right. Maybe. There’s really only one way to find out.
He extends a hand, and I accept it, letting him lead me through the still-open gate toward the crowded beer pong tables at the far corner of the backyard.
It feels both foreign and comfortable, the feeling of his hand holding mine. Different but somehow not, if that even makes sense. I assumed it’d feel warm and clammy, maybe even sweaty, but it doesn’t mirror any of those things. Instead, it’s safe and welcoming, something I wouldn’t mind doing again after this night is done. My chest doesn’t tighten with unease, and my body doesn’t quiver at the thought of the unknown—which is exactly what this is—it just remains as it was.
Still, despite nerves being quiet at the initial act of holding hands, the closer we get to his—our?—destination, the more anxiety threatens to pull me under. I push against it, or try to, and down the rest of my drink in one go and wish there was something stronger mixed in.
As we pass Erin, who is still flirting with whoever, and everyone else, no one pays us any mind. I release a breath of relief, grateful for the attention we aren’t getting. This entire night has been one of back and forth and uncertainty, but I’m going to stop thinking and just enjoy this for what it is—seventeen.
Four
“So, you know how people get really brave when they drink alcohol, liquid courage and all that?” I ask tentatively, hyperaware that Erin wants to be anywhere else but with me in the corner of a crowded backyard right now—like with the person she was all but lip-locked with when I dragged her away.
Embarrassing as it is to admit, the second we neared the game tables, I pulled my hand from Julian’s, muttering something about needing to find my lost scrunchie—the one currently wrapped around my wrist—and booked it back to my best friend. I didn’t give him time to respond, didn’t glance back as I sought her out, I just needed her reassurance and confidence on what I was about to partake in, so that took precedent in my mind.
Which leads to our positions now.
Erin groans, eyes blinking rapidly with impatience as she stares across at me. “Sure. What about it?”
“Well, I have—had?—that same bravery, only without the alcohol,” I rush out, internally kicking myself for being so wishy-washy.
Get it together, girl.
“Okay, where are you going with this?” she questions, head tilting.
I sigh, more than a bit frustrated with myself and my apparent inability to make a decision and stick with it lately. “This whole crush-seeking thing is making me a little, or maybe a lot, more anxious than usual. It was a fun idea, but the deeper we get into it and the more real this becomes, the more up and down with it I am. And then there’s Julian, who is unexpected and surprisingly kind—though that’s judging a book by its cover—and I may want to get to know him more. And by may, I mean that I’m pretty sure I do. I just, I had no idea any of this was going to unfold the way it has so far, and we’re not even, like, two feet into it.”
A sympathetic look enters her eyes. “Just don’t think so hard about it. Sure, Braxton is your number one, but I haven’t seen him since he slipped out a few minutes ago, and not by himself, mind you, which is pretty typical for him i
f we’re being super honest right now.”
“So, best friend of mine, I know his popularity is alluring, but is he really the type of person you want me going after?”
Erin huffs, head shaking vigorously. “Ugh. No, he definitely is not. I’m sorry for being so cuckoo about this. I’m just so stoked that you want to put yourself out there and find someone.”
I open my mouth to speak, but her eyes widen with excitement and she speaks up again before I have the chance.
“Besides,” she starts, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, rambling just a bit, “there were nine other names on that list. Who's to say one of those guys—or girls, since the list could be used for friendship as well—regardless of how compatible they rank with you, isn’t the person of your dreams? I mean, sure, it’s all a mystery, really, but I wanted this so badly for you, and I wanted it to be fun, not anxiety-inducing.”
I laugh, an invisible pressure lifting from my chest. “Sure. I mean, I haven’t fully looked at the other names on my list yet because you freaked out over Braxton and his place on it, so I am curious as to who else is on there. Who knows, maybe my next BFF will be on there, too.”
“Excuse you,” Erin spits, clearly appalled, though I can’t tell whether she is joking or not. “Take that back before I have a major public meltdown, please.”
I toss my head back and laugh before pulling her into a tight embrace. “I love you, dude, you know that? There’s no one else I’d rather be best friends with.”
“Oh, I do.” Her arms wrap around my body, hugging me back and whispering in my ear way too obviously for comfort. “Also, Julian is walking our way now, so maybe you won’t need that list to find what you’re looking for after all.”
My heart rate speeds as we pull apart, and I turn to find Julian staring at me, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk lifting his lips. He offers a way-too-confident wave, his lips changing from a smirk to knowing smile in less than two seconds. I blink, head tilting in acknowledgement as I bite back an unexpected smile of my own, before turning back to my best friend.
When a Heart Trips Page 2
