“Ex,” I snapped.
She stamped her foot. “I swear it’s like you don’t even want to be with me.”
I threw my hands up. “And you’re not listenin’ to me.”
“It was a fight. A stupid fight.”
“It was much more than that. And hell, even if it had been a stupid fight, it doesn’t change the fact we’re not good together.” I gestured between us. “This is over.”
“It’s not like you’ve got a ton of other girls after you. You’re friend zoned by everyone except me. If I spread one word about your issue getting it up Saturday night, you’ll be the biggest joke in school too.”
I dropped my jaw, speechless, shocked. My what? This girl was insane. Not a shred of her could admit she’d come on way too strong. So strong I’d had to fight her off, for fuck’s sake. No, all she could see was me being the issue?
Un-fucking-believable.
“You should be proud to stand beside me on that field, Cal.”
“The only reason I’ll be on that field is because of the game. And the only reason I’ll stand next to you is if we’re elected.Pride won’t have nothin’ to do with it, but I won’t make a scene if you don’t.”
She barreled right on, never listening to me, just like Momma and Daddy.
I hung my head as she listed all the reasons I sucked. The reasons I should be grateful to be with her.Just let her go, man.Let her wear herself out.
The me over the last year had accepted these rants of hers, because maybe I did suck. Maybe I was boring beneath the smiles. Maybe I couldn’t be interesting enough for anyone to want to know more about me. Hell, even my parents didn’t have time for me.
Jack.
I shook my head. He hated me. He despised me. He’d punched me, then fucking stared at me as if he didn’t even know me.
But his brand of attention, no matter how he gave it, had never hurt like theirs.
Homecomingwasanoddtradition that seemed important for two groups of people: girls and their parents. I was pretty sure no guy cared if they were crowned homecoming king, some pleaded with people not to vote for them. Such was the case with Ty. Naturally, I voted for him.
He didn’t win.
Cal Winters won with his bitch of a girlfriend.
He marched at her side with an uncharacteristically stoic expression on his face, while Sasha beamed as if she’d just been crowned Queen of America. The only time he didn’t look like he was zoning out, he glanced at his teammates waiting on the sidelines for the halftime show to end.
Not once did he scan the stands. Not once did he search for me.
Not that I expected him to, but my bitter heart surewantedhim to.
And why shouldn’t I be bitter and jealous? After that kiss, I could give less than two shits about his girlfriend. I’d branded him mine. He probably still had the bruise to prove it.
For what had to be the longest, most punishing fifteen minutes of my life, Cal paraded around the field arm in arm with Sasha while I could do nothing but sit on my hands. I didn’t even cheer and shout obnoxiously for Ty as I’d planned.
I begged the fates for her to trip and fall. I begged for rain. I begged for Cal to toss off her arm and come for me, whisk me away like the princess he’d called me.
None of it happened, but when Sasha bounced beside him, tugged him lower, aiming and puckering for a kiss in front of the cameras, Cal denied her. He gently let go of her, said something that put a frown on her face, and raced for the sidelines, where his team waited.
That … Okay, that was—something.
Ty joined Mom, Dad, and me as soon as his homecoming court duties were over, and we stayed for the last half of the game. No matter the play or the rallying of the crowd, I never took my eyes off number thirty-one. He raced to the end zone. He play faked. He drank Gatorade. He wiped sweat off his face. He stretched his quads. He scanned the crowds when he ran to the sidelines.
Jesus, fuck.
The flutter in my chest said he searched for me. The realist in my head said it was only so he could scowl.
