Page 32 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

It hardly feels like the right time to get into our history, with my hands covered in soap and Graham’s salty muscles staring me down. But I can’t help remembering all the time I spent in this Jeep, back when I adorned Graham’s arm like a bracelet, dressing him up for the party of the week.

My mind slips back into a memory, to the first time I went with Graham to a party my parents would not approve of.

“Hey, beautiful. Ready for an evening of exciting teenage mayhem?” Graham said, extending his hand for me to grab.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I laced my fingers through his and walked, slightly behind him, out of the stadium. It was fall of freshman year. Graham and I were headed to Zeke’s house. Graham’s upperclassman football teammate always threw parties when his parents were out of town for the weekend. I’d never wanted to spend my weekends hanging out with a bunch of strangers, really. I’d have preferred to stay in, order pizza, and watch a movie. But people expected Graham Carmack to be there.

I wanted him to like me, so I went, too.

Graham and I weren’t official yet. We’d hung out a few times, but we weren’t using labels. It was fine. I was just excited he asked me to come with him.

“Zeke’s got a new sound system that is out of this world. Like, the Best Sound System ever.”

“Cool,” I said, sliding in the front seat of the Jeep.

“And I think some of the lacrosse guys are coming, too, and their girlfriends. I’m excited for you to meet them. I think you’ll really hit it off.” Graham flashed a smile and put the car in gear.

The October night was unseasonably warm, and the air conditioner squeaked as we drove. “Thank you, mister hamster,” we said in unison.

I couldn’t help but smile. It happened every single time Graham turned the air on.

The uneasiness in my stomach subsided. I always felt weird about going to parties where I didn’t really know anyone. I usually ended up sitting on the couch, wedged between gossiping girls who complained about their boyfriends.

Graham generally offered to get me a drink, got distracted on his way back from the kitchen, and ended up playing a video game with his teammates and other friends. I would wait until eleven and then text one of the upperclassmen on the varsity soccer team, who would come pick me up.

Graham parked in the side yard at Zeke’s, and I pushed my door open. Mud puddles speckled the ground. Good thing I hadn’t worn heels. By the time my aqua Converse had found the sidewalk, Graham was already on the porch.

“Come on!” he called, opening the screen door and disappearing behind it.

“Great. Now I get to be the random girl no one knows. Again.” I hadn’t expected him to throw down his jacket for me to walk on. By now, I knew that chivalry wasn’t Graham’s color, and that was fine. But he could have at least waited so I wouldn’t have to go inside alone.

He’d be halfway through his first round of Flip-Cup before I caught up. I considered getting back in the car. I could feign illness and have Sophie pick me up early and take me to Anita’s. We’d be able to get in at least two rom coms before falling asleep.

But between our practice schedules and homework, I wouldn’t get to see Graham much over the weekend and the following week. Being with him pushed me outside my comfort zone. And wasn’t that the point of high school? Big Moments like this. Football games and parties with the Best Sound System and catching the eye of the most attractive guy at school.

I took a deep breath, pausing on the porch.

Before I could open the door, a male voice said, “Are you going in?”

I turned. A tall, shaggy-haired guy stood on the porch behind me. He played on the boys’ soccer team. A striker, I thought. They were usually the most arrogant. Cocky goal-scorers. I’d seen him running drills but didn’t know his name.

“Umm, yeah. I guess I am,” I said, entering and letting him pass before I closed the door behind me.

I wiped my feet on the large rug and stepped onto the dark hardwood floor. The house was the kind of place that I’d expect to see in Better Homes and Gardens, not littered with soda cans, Solo cups, and half-eaten bags of Doritos. The kind of place where my mom could host a charity event and charge two hundred dollars per ticket just for a tour.

Groups of familiar, but not necessarily friendly faces dotted the hallways and rooms, laughing at jokes I hadn’t heard and probably wouldn’t understand even if I had. Casual acquaintances, all of them. And I hesitated to even use the word acquaintance. I doubted any of them knew my name, not that I remembered theirs, either.

Winding around couples making out near the stairs, I squeezed through a crowded hallway and found a pocket of uninhabited air in the kitchen. I breathed and leaned against the wall, scanning the room for Graham.

“Drink?” a guy asked me. The guy from the porch. He handed me an unopened can of Coke.

I took it automatically, the cold condensation slicking my palm. “I’m looking for Graham Carmack. We came together, but we got separated.”

“Right.” The guy shrugged, shaking his head. “Haven’t seen him. Sorry. Do you want something else? A beer?” He nodded at my drink, his dark hair falling over his eyes.

“Oh. I actually don’t drink soda during soccer season. Or alcohol ever.” I handed him the can, and he traded me a bottle of water.

He smiled, and for less than half a second, I wondered what it would have been like to be at the party with him instead of Graham. And then I mentally deleted that thought, because who was I to reject Graham Carmack even in my own mind?