She misses and I rush to the back door, purse and keys in hand. The paperwork I’ll need for this morning is already filled out and waiting on the passenger seat.
“Bye, kiddo,” I tease. “Dishes.”
“You’re a dictator!” she yells. “Emphasis on the ‘dick’ part.”
“Keep talking and the phone’s mine ‘til Monday.”
“Okay, okay, okay! Stop being so serious all the time!” she concedes, knowing my threat is anything but empty. “Just … download the app. Please.”
She does that stupid puppy dog thing with her eyes that shouldn’t work on a big sister, but like I said, she’s more like my kid than anything.
“Fine …,” I cave, sighing as I close and lock the door behind me.
As soon as I buckle into the Cutlass, I find the app and make good on my promise. A pink and black, tiger-striped icon pops up on my screen, and I’m officially connected to this online world my sister insists I ought to be a part of.
Curious, I nearly open it, but come to my senses and toss the phone to the passenger seat instead. Scarlett will not goad me into following her down this rabbit hole, digging through the digital laundry hampers of the rich, the elite.
Their filth is none of my business.
With that, I resist the urge to pry and start my engine instead, pumping the pedal until she purrs. The day I do more than simply allow this app to exist on my phone to quiet my sister, will be the day hell freezes over.
@QweenPandora: Attention seniors: No pressure, but you might want to put the pedal to the metal. Orientation starts in twenty, and we all know Headmaster Harrison has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to tardiness. To any newbs entering the lion’s den this year, good luck. You’ll need it…
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 4
WEST
Summer basically ended for the team two weeks ago, the moment mandatory two-a-day practices commenced. Since then, it’s been all day in the sun, very few breaks, and zero sympathy. When we aren’t on the field, we’re in the weight room.
With varsity mostly being seniors, we were given a rare pass today for orientation. Then, it’s back to the grind at eight a.m. tomorrow morning for a Saturday make-up practice.
Sometimes I wonder why I put myself through this every year, but then remember the rush only football has ever given me.
I use the ten minutes we have before this thing starts to wipe the water droplets beading down from the mirrors after a quick run through the car wash. If the stars align, I’ll have the Chevelle road-ready soon, too. Possibly in time for Homecoming if I’m lucky.
I glance up every now and then, usually when a short skirt passes by. The girls wearing them wave once they have my attention and, already, I know it’s about to be a good year.
Dane’s in the passenger seat posing. With one foot down on the pavement, he leans until half his face is in the sunlight for a selfie. His vain ass thinks his followers are obsessed with his green eyes. Then again, with how they eat that shit up, I guess he’s right.
“I hear South Cypress High might be a problem this year,” Sterling sighs, resting against my hood.
I peer up. “How so?”
“Apparently, they just had a kid transfer in from Ohio. He’s supposed to be some kind of football phenom.”
“Position?” Dane pauses from his photoshoot to ask.
“Quarterback,” Sterling answers.
“Stats?” I’m curious, but not worried.
“Throws a seventy-yard pass in the air. He’s got a good eye, too. Reads the field like a pro.”
“Big deal. I throw a seventy,” I counter.
“Yeah, but … not coming out of freshman year, you didn’t.”
Now I’m intrigued. They can probably tell because I’ve stopped working on the car.
“I hear they’re getting cocky, too,” Sterling adds. “Whole team’s talking shit about how they have district and maybe even regionals on lock.”
No fucking way. If I ended this season without a championship under my belt, it wouldn’t be because some punk-ass sophomore walked away with it.
While winning is our entire team’s goal, I need this for other reasons. As a safety net of sorts. A reason for the coach at NCU to consider giving me the spot I deserve despite anything else he might hear about me.
Guess you could say I haven’t exactly been an angel.
“We got somebody to go check him out?” I hide that I’m frustrated, but feel the tension across my shoulders.
“Not yet, but I agree we should get on that sooner rather than later. I’ll check with Trip,” Sterling offers.
I nod and toss the used rag into the trunk before slamming it closed. Then, before I can say more, Dane interrupts with a drawn out, “Damnnn…”
Sterling and I follow his gaze until we spot who he’s gawking at. The one who has him rising from his seat and setting his phone aside, despite the thirsty fans he leaves hanging.
This, alone, is no small miracle.
Not sure who I expect to find has stolen his attention, but I definitely don’t expect it to be Joss. Yet, she’s the only girl bounding toward my car at full speed, screeching with a huge grin, arms already stretched this way despite still being halfway across the lot.
It’s understandable why Dane’s caught up, though. A summer spent visiting both halves of her family—first in Haiti, then Cuba—has certainly done that body good. She was smokin’ hot even before she left, but ‘damn’ was the perfect reaction.
A short dress that ties around the waist leaves her golden-brown legs exposed underneath it. Sunlight shimmers over her skin with every step she takes. It does the same with the gold highlights twisted into the braids piled on top of her head.
I can practically hear my brother’s heart beating, and it’s pretty damn pathetic. No Shade to Joss. It’s only pathetic because Dane’s loved the girl since we first met her at age twelve and dude still
