Page 2 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

I worked too hard all summer to lose my progress. I’ve almost convinced myself my ex-boyfriend, Graham, did me a favor. After everything happened, I focused on fitness and foot skills. When my name showed up on the varsity starting roster, jumping from JV, it was worth it.

I sit in silence for the rest of the period, ignoring Charlotte’s side-eye and smirk. Of course, little miss teacher’s pet hadn’t been called out, despite being just as involved in the interruption as I was. Still, I can’t be mad at Charlotte. My friend’s tendency to get a pass on rule-breaking occasionally works in my favor.

When the bell finally rings seventy-six long minutes later and we’re filing out, I say, “It’s going to be a terror of a season. Coach Dixon is gunning for the state title harder than ever.”

“That’s what you’ve been waiting the whole period to say?” Charlotte clearly does not understand the gravity of this situation. I wish Piper was here, if only to commiserate with me.

“What else would I want to talk about?”

“Is it torrid in here, or am I menopausal already?” Anita, the third of our trio, meets us outside the classroom. She’d been sitting in front of Charlotte, so I couldn’t even say hi to her in class. She didn’t even turn around. Anita takes school very seriously. Even more than Charlotte and definitely more than me. She’s aiming for the Ivy League after graduation.

Anita’s curly dark brown hair circles her face in a frizzy halo.

I groan. “Thank goodness, it’s not just me.”

“Air conditioning is on the fritz,” Charlotte says. “They were here all day yesterday trying to figure it out. The Student Council meeting was ridiculous. You should have heard me trying to shout over the industrial fans they had blowing through the conference room.”

“So much for an alluring appearance on the first day back.” Anita squints at her reflection in her compact. “I got up two hours early, and now it looks like I electrocuted myself.”

“At least you made an effort. Unlike some people.” Charlotte flips her hair over her shoulder.

“I feel attacked,” I say, laughing. “There’s no hope for me. I’ll be lucky if I can keep my hair semi-clean for the duration of the season.” I smooth the waves drying in my bun. “Maybe I’ll try in November after we win state.”

Anita and Charlotte exchange a knowing look as we walk three-wide down the crowded hallway. The rush of students muffles our footsteps on the blue and white checked vinyl floor.

“What am I missing?” I ask.

Charlotte leads the way down the hall toward the foreign language wing. She waves at a few kids pulling books out of their bright blue lockers.

“Rhoads Simpson,” Charlotte says.

The best striker on the boys’ team. “What about him?” My sneakers squeak on the polished floor. It even smells clean. Like lemons and bleach. Small perks of the beginning of school. It won’t last long, though. Not with hundreds of kids trudging on it daily and a fickle air conditioner. It’s going to smell like a locker room by lunchtime. “Oh, is he on your Potential Boyfriend List this semester?”

Charlotte laughs. “You’re hilarious. Broody bad boy is not my type. And also…”

“Didn’t you feel his attention on you?” Anita finishes Charlotte’s thought.

A phantom prickle—the Big Moment’s calling card—teases the back of my mind, echoing the one that greeted me when I arrived in econ.

“No,” I say. Heat that has nothing to do with the broken HVAC creeps into my face.

“My hair would spontaneously combust if someone looked at me the way he was looking at you in class. He was captivated,” Anita says.

“By me?” I roll my eyes. “Nope.”

“You’re really going to ignore the chemistry between you?” Charlotte scoffs.

“Weren’t you just saying he’s a broody bad boy?” I shiver. “That phrase makes me want to vomit almost as much as the chain run.”

Anita tilts her head. “His appearance does suggest that’s the case. The leather jacket, the swoopy dark hair, the headphones isolating him from the rest of the world. He’s got Complicated written all over him. Not to mention his indisputable reputation for being anti-commitment.”

“Thanks for agreeing with me, Anita. I think. He’s trouble. And I can’t afford trouble this year.”

Charlotte sighs. “I’m not saying you have to be exclusive or anything. Just have some fun. You’ve certainly got his attention.”

* * *

“Do you mind if I sit here?”