Page 37 of Love Me Not
But empty wasn’t a bad thing. I liked my space. My solitude. After the noise overload at school, I needed the silence to restore my sanity. No one ate my food when I was gone, or moved my stuff. I never had to negotiate what to watch on television, or make excuses for staying up too late on weekends.
As I turned into the alley behind my apartment, I realized my life wasn’t boring. It was peaceful. Which was exactly how I intended to keep it. Adventure was another word for drama, and not the good kind. Trey Collins could chase down all the adventures he wanted, but none of them would involve me.
“Think of it as an adventure,” Megan said as we trudged along with a few hundred other people.
I was starting to hate that word.
“There isn’t much adventure in being a spectator,” I pointed out.
We were in line for tickets into the last Carnegie High football game of the season. If the team won tonight, they would carry on into the playoffs, which had caused a complete frenzy at school.
The gang was all present and accounted for. Except Noah, of course, who was with his grandmother, and Calvin’s event venue had their largest wedding today, complete with a live band for the reception, so he wanted to be on site to deal with any hiccups.
The rest of the guys were here to support Trey, while the women went along for a bit of nostalgia. None of them had attended a high school football game since they were students themselves. Needless to say, I never attended the games, so this was proof that peer pressure still worked, even in your thirties.
In truth, I was there to support Aiden and Burke. Despite working hard at practice, doing whatever it was football players did, they showed up every day for rehearsal. Aiden had even learned his lines already.
They’d also brought a couple more newbies to the cast. Leo DeStefano showed up on the second day of rehearsals. A trainer and glorified water boy—his term not mine—for the football team, he’d always wanted to join the play but thought himself too awkward to be on stage. When the players joined, he figured we were desperate enough that even he could get in, and the boy wasn’t wrong.
Except about being too awkward. He and Hannah hit it off right away, and by the end of the first week, Leo had not only helped design a three-sided spinning backdrop, but learned all of his five lines, as well as those of any character in a scene with him. He took the police officer role, a small but substantial part as the play unfolded.
Kandace Akina appeared out of nowhere on the fifth day. A senior, a cheerleader, and one of the popular elite, the sudden interest in acting was unexpected to say the least. Fifteen minutes into rehearsal and the mystery was solved. Kandace had a thing for Aiden, while Aiden had eyes only for Emma.
Teachers knew never to meddle in the interpersonal relationships of teenagers. However, this one looked like potential trouble for the show. By the end of the second week, a clear love triangle was afoot, and I could only hope that three would whittle down to two before the dramatics moved off stage, forcing me to step in.
Step in how I had no idea, but I’d protect the play by whatever means necessary.
“Here you go,” said Jacob as he passed out the tickets Trey had left in an envelope with Jacob’s name on them at the ticket window. “We’re right on the fifty yard line.”
His tone implied this was a good thing. The men marched down the hill to the entrance while the ladies fell into step around me.
“Your first game,” Josie said. “How does it feel?”
“It’s not as if I’ve never attended a football game before.” I tucked the scarf closer against my neck. Three days ago we had temps in the sixties, and tonight we were facing low forties that felt much closer to the freezing mark. “I just haven’t gone as a teacher.”
“Or as the coach’s crush,” Megan teased.
My friends were having far too much fun with this crush mess, which I could safely say had been a figment of Becca’s imagination. There’d been nothing more than casual greetings in the hall since the day I locked myself out of my car. Trey dropped in on a few rehearsals, but always stayed in the back and left before the end. I was a big enough person to admit that his sudden avoidance annoyed me.
Why was he all chatty that day in the truck, but barely said hello since? Not that I wanted him to talk to me. I just wanted to know why he suddenly wasn’t talking to me. Essentially, I’d regressed to middle school brain. Maybe this was the start of my mid-life crisis.
“Hey, Ms. Pavolski,” said a student from my third period Lit class as we stepped through the gates. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m supporting the team,” I replied, trying to sound convincing.
“Right.” He did not look convinced and immediately turned to the student next to him, who then looked my way with a curious gaze. Why was my presence such a shock? I wasn’t a complete recluse.
When we reached our seats, Becca spread out a blanket to protect our bottoms from the cold bleachers, then Donna spread the one she’d brought over our laps. Josie passed out the hand warmers, and Megan directed Ryan and Miles to stand between us and the wind whipping from the east.
You’d never know we weren’t professional spectators.
We used the time before the game to catch up. Becca was nearly back to full speed at work, Megan’s library won a grant to expand the children’s reading program, and Donna’s new home studio was working out just as she’d hoped. So far, no one had had trouble finding the place, and with the parking pad in the back, there were no complaints from the neighbors about random cars taking up spaces on the street.
Josie was having fun with her niece, and had taken on two new bookkeeping clients in the last month. Everyone was in a good place, rolling into the next phase of their lives. And then there was me doing the same old thing.
A month ago I’d been happy with my life. Content, even. Now Trey Collins had me second guessing my choices, and that was an unforgiveable offense.
As I was losing feeling in my toes, the band finally rolled onto the field to perform the National Anthem. I didn’t notice until the song ended and the crowd went nuts that they’d formed a sort of human tunnel, through which the football team made a very loud, very enthusiastic entrance.