He hands me a white jersey with the number seven on it.
“Put it on. Or you could leave now, and he will leave you be.”
I stare down at it. I hate him. God, do I hate him. "Wait, where the heck did you even get this from?" I swear I didn't see him holding anything, but then again his hands are always tucked into his pockets…
"Seriously? That's what's on your mind right now?"
"Sorry." I begin to pull it up to my head, and Gage stops me. “If you choose him, Leora, choose him. Because he is in love with you. And I’m not supposed to tell you that, but I am. If you fuck him over, I will come after you.”
“Well, that's terrifying, but you can trust me.”
I pull it over my head, and Gage places his fingers between his teeth and lets out a loud, high-pitched whistle.
Everett turns on the bench. He slowly stands and then pumps the air, like in that 80s movie when the bad boy gets the princess. But I guess, right now, it’s kind of the opposite. Then he quickly clutches his side again, hurting himself by the gesture. Good. He deserves it.
I can’t help but laugh. Did I really just do that? The students’ heads begin to turn, assessing me in his jersey, questioning if I’m good enough for him. The answer is no, 100% not. But I’ll take him till he sees that for himself. What’s that saying about love and loss?
He is back in the game the next quarter, and now I get to see why he is the star. He is flawless. The crowd is wild, chanting out his name over and over again. I am surrounded by Everett Rowan. It doesn’t take long for us to win the game by a landslide.
Gage walks with me to the boy’s locker room, and we wait for the players to exit. After about forty minutes, he comes out. Hishead is sweaty, his golden locks darkened by the wetness and falling in chunks into his eyes. He’s in a pair of gray sweats, slides, and a Nike hoodie. A large black duffel bag is slung over his shoulder. He is perfect. And mine, I guess.
For the first time in my life, I'm proud of who I am because whoever I am, he chose.
He walks up to me, stopping inches from my chest, and stares down at me with a look of pure joy, that goofy grin of his in full heart-melting mode. My little heart-wings wake up and take flight.
“Good game, man. I’m out of here.” Gage slaps him on the shoulder and begins to walk away.
Everett’s eyes never leave mine. He is still smiling like the biggest goof I have ever seen.
I turn my head to look at Gage, who is retreating. “Gage! Thank you!”
Gage lifts a hand in the air, not even turning to look at us.
Everett grasps my chin between his thumb and finger and turns my face to look at him again. “You chose me.”
“You didn’t give me many options.”
He leans in, inches from my lips. I can smell the sweat on him, feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Fuck no, I didn’t. There was always only one option. You’re mine. I’m yours.”
The intensity in his eyes, his voice. I am overwhelmed, so I do what any girl would do in this situation. I smack his chest as hard as possible.
“You idiot! You could have seriously gotten hurt!”
He lets my face go and grasps at where I struck him. “Well, apparently I’m about to! Jesus, woman. Go easy on me. You know I was tackled by two 250-pound dudes like four times!”
“That’s your own damn fault!”
“God, I love it when you're mad at me. Come here.” He grabs me by the nape of the neck, places one hand around my throat, and pulls me to him. His lips slam onto mine, and my world simultaneously numbs and enlivens. I practically fall into him but, as he always does, he catches me.
He is like the sun, his lips burning in the best way, warming me, comforting me, consuming me. Call me Icarus and give me wings because I would blindly burn for him. Next thing I know, I’m opening, allowing him into my mouth, my heart, my everything. It all belongs to Everett James Rowan.
I pull back slightly, until our lips are barely touching.
“I hate you.”
“You’ll love me.”
