Page 34 of Hateful Liar
A smile spreads across her mouth, and I debate covering it with my hand, but she’d probably just bite the shit out of me. “Oh, I was thinking about someone other than myself.” She nods to me. “But he was a little scared to perform with a live audience.”
“Will you please stop now?” Coach lets out a frustrated breath. “It’s all water under the bridge, but we need to focus on the game. Can we do that?”
“Sure,” Morgan answers too quickly. “I’ll go see if the other team needs some hand jobs to get their engines revved up.” She steps past her dad and bails from the bus.Okay. Now Coach is looking at me, and I have no clue what the hell to say.
“She’s out of control. Can you try and get her to calm down?” He sounds desperate but I don’t feel sorry for him because I think he helped create the monster she’s become. Maybe not directly, but he’s had a significant part in it.
“She’s your daughter and you can’t control her. How the hell am I supposed to?”
He looks a little surprised by my blunt response, but it’s the truth. If he can’t rein in the hellcat, how does he expect me to do it?
“Are you good for the game? I need your mind on that field, not on what’s under her skirt.”
Yeah. Maybe more than a small hand in it. “Did you just refer to your daughter as a piece of ass? Maybenotdoing that should be your first step in getting her to calm down. But yeah, I’m good to go. Mind on the game.” And ready to get off this goddamn bus.
“Good.” He slaps me on the shoulder and bounds down the steps. Apparently, he only heard the latter of what I said. Now I know why she’s so bitter about his love for football. He doesn’t simply care more for it, he truly cares about nothing else.
When I step off the bus, I involuntarily search for her but don’t spot the demon cheerleader on the loose. I tell myself she was only trying to piss her dad off with the cavalier comment about hand jobs for the other players. But the only thing I’m certain of now is that she only wants me. It shouldn’t thrill me, but it does. When I thought she might elevate her crazy display on the bus and let someone else touch her, it’d made me insane. Because if that’s what she wanted to do, she would. And there’s not a damn thing I could do to stop her.
I follow behind Coach as we enter the locker room. Red and black cover the walls, reminding us we’re not on home territory. I don’t need a reminder. I don’t feel home even at Saint Juliet. But I pull the green-and-gold uniform on over my pads and wear the jersey anyway.
It’s not long enough when it’s time for us to hit the field. We’re announced first and get a mixture of boos from the home section but there’re cheers from the visitor’s stand that drown them out. Saint Juliet is serious enough about football that the stands are nearly full with a sea of green and gold to cheer us on. For a second, I study it until I remember Dustin saying him and Dad are coming to the game. I’d rather pretend Dad flaked out and he’s not here. Because the bastard doesn’t need to see me. He doesn’t need to cheer for me. I can do this without him.
Scarily, I search out someone I should be afraid to make eye contact with but I’m not. Morgan doesn’t have her usual sinister, devious smirk. Instead, she’s standing on the track, her arms tucked behind her back, her legs in a shoulder-width-apart stance.
She might be on our side of the field, but I can guarantee she is hoping for us to fail. And right now, I’m worried we might do just that.
Once the coin toss is over, the home team wins and opts to kick to us, which means I’m going in the game and have no choice but to be ready. I don’t feel it, but I jog out to the ten-yard line.
The first down goes off as planned, the handoff to Becks gaining four yards. The next is a fake to Becks before a hand off to Topher. We only get a yard. Third down, and now it’s time to work for it. The ball is snapped, my fingers grip the pigskin as I shuffle back until I spot Smith and throw the ball to him seconds before a red-and-black wall sacks me.
The blow takes my breath away for a few seconds, and I struggle to regain it. Slowly coming to stand, I see Smith made the catch at the twenty-one-yard line. It’s not great, but it’s enough. That’s all I need for now as I take in a few deep breaths and step to the line of scrimmage.
And it really is all I need. After the fourth quarter ends, the scoreboard reads 14–13, Wildcats for the win. The second for us this season and still plenty to go.
Every bleacher seat on the visitor’s side remains occupied as Wildcat fans continue to cheer from the stands. I watch Morgan. She’s still in her spot on the track, arms folded over her chest as she makes no effort to take part in the celebration. It should make me happy that I’m making her miserable. But I’m not as good at this as she is. I don’t want it to be like this. It just is.
27
MORGAN
By the time I arrive at Neil’s, the place has people everywhere. I head inside and find the party host has Savannah on his arm. Another reminder that Cade thinks I’m an evil bitch. I am. But noteverythingis my fault.
“Another party, huh?” I yell over the thumping music.
Neil nods his head. “My parents travel a lot, but they found out about the last one. The neighbors snitched. I thought my mom would be pissed, but nope. She was happy about it and said I was finally being a ‘normal teenager.’” He holds up his drink to an invisible toast, then downs it. “A fucking house party.” His mumbles don’t seem happy or cheerful. I don’t care. The one I want to use tonight should be around here somewhere. But first, I make my way over to the drink setup and take a bottle of tequila to pour myself a double, then down it before I pour another and down it too. After I make myself a proper drink, I spill a bunch as I push through the crowd of bodies. I don’t give a fuck about the nasty looks aimed my way. Get in line. Everyone hates me. Clearly not enough, though, because when I make my way up the stairs, Lenny is right behind me. He places a hand on the small of my back as I walk up the stairs.
“I haven’t seen you all night.”
“Lucky me,” I reply, taking a look over the balcony. I don’t spot Cade, so I take the chance of him being in his room and head that way.
“That thing you did on the bus. That was so fucking hot, Morgan.” Lenny stops beside me as I side-eye him. He doesn’t catch my vibe as he continues, “I’ve thought about it ever since.”
“Okay.” I continue walking and find his bedroom door open, so I step inside, Lenny still on my heels like a bitch in heat.
“You know, if Crawford won’t help you handle that tonight. I’m available.”
“I’d rather finger fuck myself again,” I admit aloud.