“You’ll be begging me to see it soon enough.”
“You wish!” I hop into my truck and give him the finger as I drive past him.
The finger and a smile.
Now there’s something new.
Jet letsme off the hook to go to the game Friday night. I sit next to Ava and Harper, and we scream our heads off for the Whitney Briggs Mustangs. I’m not that into sports, but for some reason, becoming a college freshman has me rooting for my home team as if every one of those boys were family. Ava keeps talking about Grant, keeps shouting his jersey number—twenty-one—like his life depends on her enthusiasm, but my eyes keep gravitating toward number five—the number on the back of a very sweaty, bicep bulging, eyes trained on me for three quarters of the game, Lawson Kent.
“You sure he hates you?” Harper gnaws on her big box of Gummy Bears. Lately it’s her go-to snack. In fact, it’s all I ever see the girl eat with any consistency.
“He hates me,” I affirm. Not really hatehate,but I suppose on some level there is a very real disdain for me. I’m pretty good at rubbing people the wrong way without even trying, and with him I’ve tried and succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.
Lawson runs up and down that court for the duration of the entire game. By the time that final buzzer goes off, he’s glossy with sweat from his efforts, and his hair drips down in strings around his forehead. But, dear God Almighty, there is a very real attraction to a boy who just helped bring home the victory.
We head down to the court, and for some unknown reason, my heart starts thumping like a war drum. Earlier today, Lawson and I drove out to the middle school again like it was no big deal. I’ve seen him around campus so much that I hardly give him a second thought, but something about being here on the court, on his turf, during his biggest victory to date—Ava let me in on that little tidbit—makes me feel lightheaded and my anxiety soars past the domed ceiling we’re under.
“Good show!” Ava flings herself over Grant like an accessory, and their ongoing make-out session resumes. Harper does the same to Lawson minus the kiss. They really seem to be taking their little sister/big brother relationship seriously, which I’m glad, considering Harper is very much in love with the invisible Justin who I’m beginning to doubt exists. It’s been a month, and I still haven’t seen this boy in the flesh. At least Harper has one normal relationship with a male. And just like that, my stomach twists at the thought of Harper having a relationship with Lawson. She stalks off into the crowd before my anger can properly percolate toward her.
“Good show.” I mock Ava’s enthusiasm to Lawson, and he laughs as if we were in on some private joke.
Ava comes up for air and turns to me. “We’re headed to Hallowed Grounds for a round of victory PB and Js. You should join us.”
“Are you kidding? Thanks! I’ve always wanted to be a third wheel on someone’s very first Valentine’s date!” I avert my eyes and shake my head at the idea. “No thanks. That was nice of you to ask, though.”
Ava swats me. “It’s going to be fast. Harper is coming, and we get to meet Justin.” Her eyes widen because we’ve had more than several late night chats regarding the invisible man.
Grant gives Lawson a shove. “This doofus is coming, so you won’t feel left out.”
Ava nods. “It’ll be twenty minutes max, then we’re all splitting up and doing our own thing.” She pulls Grant in. “First Valentine’s Day in the making!”
“Can’t wait to witness it.” I look to Lawson, and he fires off an unenthused wink as if he feels the same.
Once the boys shower, we head over to Hallowed Grounds, get our coffee and requisite PB and Js—a testament to Ava and Grant’s love story since the breaded treat seems to have played an integral part in it. We make small talk about the game, our classes, and even the weather until a shadow darkens our table.
We look up only to find a baby-faced guy who looks as if he could easily show up to Hollow Brook Middle School and matriculate into the student body.
“Here you are!” Harper jumps up and wraps her arms around him with hyper enthusiasm. But the baby-faced boy I’m assuming is Justin doesn’t seem to share her exuberance. Instead, he gives a half-hearted pat to her back before pulling away.
“What’s up, babe?” His voice is brooding and slightly angry, not at all how one might imagine him to sound. And the way he called her babe, it came off greasy than it ever did adorable.
Bleh. There’s something about him that I find instantly off-putting, and I glance to Ava who gives a slight nod my way as if coming to the same conclusion.
Harper does a quick round of introductions, and I scoot over, making room for Justin-the-Visible, which lands me right opposite of Lawson.
Both Ava and Grant and Harper and Justin lose themselves in their cooing and groping—and I find the lack of consideration for poor Lawson and me staggering. They don’t actually expect us to carry on a conversation of our own, do they? I thought the entire point of this little PB and J aphrodisiac run was to congratulate one another on another stellar win?
“So, how about those Mustangs?” I ask, leaning hard over the table to make myself heard amongst the slurping of one another’s faces. “What a magnificent point spread!” I’m just assuming there was one. I may have been enthused about the game, but that is a far cry from understanding it. “Good job decimating the other team.” I look to Lawson who mouths a very politethank you.
Now it’s Lawson’s turn to try to garner the attention of the suck-face society.
“So, Justin—” he says it so loud half the café turns around as if it were suddenly everyone’s moniker—“how do you like Briggs?”
“It’s cool.” Justin actually breaks his suction with Harper to answer, and they both gasp for air as if they were holding one another under water. “Good-looking chicks.” He winks at Harper, but Ava and I exchange another curious glance. “You got yourself some competition, babe.” He thumps his hand over hers, and she breaks out into wild titters.
Ava kicks me under the table, and this time we openly grimace at one another. It’s not that we don’t want to like the guy. It’s just that it’s quickly becoming an impossible feat.
Lawson growls at him as if his big brother defenses are kicking in, and I find the idea of it very sweet. “So, what brings you to WB?” I throw my hat into the keep-them- from-Frenching ring.
