Page 4 of The Game
“Come on. It’s the first week of your senior year. There’s got to be something to share. Girls? Parties? I want to live vicariously through you until I get to go away next year.”
“I don’t have time for parties. There was a girl at the coffee shop today. She was making drinks and this asshole, I mean jerk, was treating her like shit, umm dirt, so I stepped in.”
Her laugh has approached full on cackle zone by the time I reach the end of the story.
“Cole, I’m in my senior year of high school. You don’t need to censor the swearing around me. Trust me. I know assholes, and I’m glad you stood up for this girl. Did you get her number?”
I shake my head. Sometimes it’s hard to remember my sisters are growing up. Liss is in her senior year of high school. Bella’s already in her second year of college. Sometimes I wish I could have convinced her to come to Lakeview with me, but it was New York or bust for my fashion forward middle sister.
“No, I didn’t get the number of the traumatized girl at the coffee shop.” Or any girl, for that matter. Ever since…yeah, dating is not on the table.
“Well, you need to go out and have some fun. Hang out with your team. Don’t waste your entire senior year sulking in your room like you did last year. You need this. You’ll work better with your teammates if you’re, I dunno, nice to them.”
“Aren’t you suddenly all wise and knowing with your high school senior status? What would you know about being on a hockey team?”
“Nothing, but I know lots about being on a soccer team. The worst team I was on had a couple of the best players on it, but since they refused to work together, we didn’t even make the playoffs. Remember Melinda Jameson? She was a nightmare.”
My body relaxes once the heat is off me, and I listen to her babble on about her new team and some new girl in her class she has a crush on. But her words settle into my bones while we’re chatting. Somehow, I find myself taking her advice and joining my roommates at Wright’s Wingers for dinner.
I’ve only been to Wright’s a few times since I started at Lakeview. It’s the closest sports bar to campus with a heavy focus on hockey. The jerseys hung on the wall are the first things that catch my eye as we jostle our way through the crowded tables and people wandering around. There’s an unspoken rule that the two huge booths at the back are reserved for the hockey team, so we settle into the furthest one.
“Glad you came out, Schaeffer. I hope we see more of you out of that room of yours this year.” Beau’s smile is all charmand polish. He’s the only one wearing a crisp black button-up shirt to the casual bar, but he doesn’t look out of place. He looks effortless, as if he could fit in anywhere he showed up.
I nod. “Maybe I will.”
“So, Grant. Do you think you have any shot at living up to Woodsy’s legacy?” Dev cuts straight to the point. Aspen Ellory was the star center, captain and backbone of the team. He kept everyone on track, and he had more talent and dedication than almost any other guy. Except me. I’m determined to live up to his work ethic without taking on the leadership role he excelled at. That’s for Beau.
Grant shoots the question back at him with an arched eyebrow. “I don’t know. Are you?”
Beau laughs, but there’s a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes as if he’s not as at ease with his new captain role as he’s pretending to be. “I think I can handle it.”
I haven’t contributed too much to the conversation by the time the waitress drops off a couple heaping platters of wings and fries, but I’m here. That’s gotta earn me some points, right?
I grab a wet wipe to clean off the mess of sticky wing sauce that’s coating my fingers and face before hitting the restroom. We were making fun of Beau for using a knife and fork, but maybe he’s got the right idea.
“Gotta take a leak.”
“Good for you. Don’t fall in the toilet,” Jenson chirps.
I’m already up and walking away with a shake of my head.
As I’m leaving the men’s room, a hint of blonde hair catches my eye, and a queasy feeling twists my guts up in knots. Whatis wrong with me? There isn’t a chance in hell that’s her. Except. She’s caught sight of me and, with a single-minded intensity, she’s heading in a straight line toward me. My fingers are numb, knees shaky and threatening to give out on me when she stops inches away from my chest. She has no right to be wearing that huge fake smile in front of me.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Charlene?” All traces of the quiet, polite version of my self fled the area at the sight of the crime scene that she represents.
Her shiny pink lips push out into a fake-ass pout. “Surprise. I’m here for you.”
“Go back to Tampa. Go back to fuckface.” He used to be one of my closest friends. Now the thought of saying his name rips at the tattered shreds of my heart. The fragile glue and threads that were finally knitting me back together tear open at the sight of her here. In my new home. The one she drove me to. “You don’t belong here.”
“But I do, baby. I know I screwed everything up, and I’m so sorry. I was all messed up, and it was a huge mistake. But you and me. We’re end game. We were always end game. It was a stupid mistake, but you’ve always been the one for me. Always.” The quiver of her lip and the shine in her eyes are as much of a lie as her words. Once upon a time, I thought they were true. I thought she was my forever, but she threw that all out the window like it was trash.
The laugh that rips from my mouth is bitter. “You and me.” I point to her and back to myself. “We are nothing. We willnever be anything, and I don’t want to see your face ever again. Go back to Tampa.”
Having said everything I’ve got to say about the matter, I spin around, eager to get out of the heat and claustrophobia of the bar. Why did I think this was a good idea? Although this is a scenario I never would have predicted in a million years.
Her fingers close around my biceps, and they feel like claws digging in to my flesh.
“I’m not going back to Tampa, Cole. I transferred to Lakeview.”