"Not yet, but I want to ask Herring. I reckon I have a shot with her."
"But there are so many hotter girls you could pick from," he shouts over the sound of my engine roaring. "Literally anyonefrom the cheer team is hotter. And guaranteed to put out." He licks his lips at the thought, no doubt wondering how many notches he can add to his bedpost.
"It’s not about that for me, Anderson, and you know it." I’ve never been that guy. I don’t do casual hook ups like every other guy on the team, and I was not about to start with Cassandra Herring.
Hell no.
Rolling his eyes, he grabs my shoulder and squeezes it tightly before shaking me. "You gotta lighten up, man. Not everything needs to be taken seriously all the time. It’s prom, for fuck’s sake. Get your dick wet and have a good time." He laughs as he squeezes my shoulder tighter while I drive.
"You don’t get it. I don’t want to take anyone else. I want to take Cassandra Herring because I like her, and I want to explore whatever she and I could potentially have." I say the words slowly and clearly, speaking to him like he’s a toddler, because apparently, it’s the only way he’ll understand.
"Trust me, she’s not worth it. Wait until she loses her virginity, then go for it. Hell, I might take it from her, then she’s all yours," he jokes, but his humor doesn’t sit well with me. "Prom isn’t about going with the girl you think you love and hope she loves you back. It's about drinking spiked punch, losing and taking virginities, and waking up seedy in the morning. Lighten up, Wingrove. I’ll find you good pussy for the night."
I know my best friend is an asshole, and I know he fucks around with different girls as often as he can. But considering Cassandra, Bea, Austin, and I are all friends, I thought he would have a bit more respect for her.
I guess not.
Gripping my hands around my steering wheel, I continue the drive toward his house in silence.
"Later, man." As he opens my passenger side door and slams it shut, his father, Max, comes out to greet me.
"Hi, Mr. Anderson," I say, calmly, ignoring the fact that my whole body stiffens, palms drip with sweat, losing grip around the wheel.I’m in the presence of a legend. No, aGod. He’s a big deal in the NFL world, so whenever he wants to talk to me, I’m all ears, taking in every single word.
"Hi, son. Listen," he says, looking over his shoulder at Austin, who is spinning a football in the palm of his hand. "I have some Ohio State recruiters coming to the game on Thursday and they are interested in you." My whole body heats.
"In me? How do they even know about me?" I ask, confused, considering I’m not even in my senior year yet.
"I put in a good word." He winks as he leans into the passenger side, resting his elbow on the window ledge.
"Fuck yeah. Ohio State is my top school," Austin exclaims from behind his father, reminding us that he’s still there.
"They would be at the game for Harley," Max repeats himself to his son, but nods his head toward me. "If you impress them, they might offer you a verbal scholarship. It would obviously depend on your performance on and off the field for the rest of this season and the next, but I have faith in you." He smiles, tapping on the passenger side door, before taking a step back from my car.
"You’re going to need to bring your A game, kid." His voice is a little louder now as he tries to speak over my engine and I feel my stomach fall to my feet.
I can bring my A game. I always do.
Nodding, I wave in his direction as a thank you and head to my house to come up with a master plan for my promposal with the help of Bea, while trying to not freak the fuck out about what just happened.
"She isn’t a fan of enormous gestures. Whatever you do, keep it simple. Just the two of you," Bea instructs, giving me some much-needed advice, making damn sure I don’t make a fool of myself.
"Her favorite flowers are white orchids, but real ones can be expensive, so try to find a fake one if you can. They last longer. And honestly, just be yourself."
Keep it private, be myself, and buy a fake orchid.
Got it.
"I listened to Bea’s advice. I had the flower, and I had planned to come past your house the next night after school to ask you on your front porch. Just you and me." I shrug, taking another sip of my wine, thinking about the lone orchid that sits in my office that I’ve kept for fourteen years.
"But Austin beat you to it," she says with a whisper, eyes remaining firmly on mine.
"Austin beat me to it," I repeat, feeling the same sense of defeat I felt back then. "I think the conversation between his dad and I really tipped him over the edge," I admit.
"I know at the start, he was just trying to make me jealous and angry, probably to throw me off my game, maybe ruin my chances of getting scouted. In my head, he was using you to get to me because he knew how I felt about you. But you don’t stay with someone for fourteen years if you don’t love them," I say, hating that I had to admit any of that to her.
"I’m so sorry, Harley. I wish I’d known earlier." Reaching across the rug, she softly touches her hand with mine, tears forming in her eyes.
"Hey, it’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. None of it was your fault," I reply, leaning forward to wipe the tears that have fallen down her cheeks. "You kind of knew, though." I chuckle, remembering my ruined jeans thanks to her drunken night.
