Maybe it’s because he’s the only one who challenges me here. Maybe it’s because I enjoy poking the bear. He’s so easy to rile. Or maybe it’s because he gets under my skin like no one else can.
After class ends, we race to the gym. Yesterday, our PE teacher had us break off into teams and prepare for a volleyballtournament that we’d be graded on. Landon and I picked opposing teams, of course, and today we go head-to-head.
Landon nudges me with his shoulder. “I’m getting that A.”
“Keep your A. I’ll be getting an A-plus.” I flash him a grin before dipping into the locker room to change.
Several minutes later, both locker rooms empty into the gym.
Mrs. Baylor chirps her whistle once, wasting no time. “Group one, take your positions.”
I clap to get my team’s attention as the students huddle around me. “Call your hits. Communicate. Move your feet, and fill in the dead space.”
“And get the ball over the net,” Patrick says.
I gnash my teeth together. “Obviously.”
Two of the girls exchange a glance, eyes wide. “It’s just a game,” one of them says. “It’s not the world championship or anything.”
“It’s for a grade,” I snap, then soften it with a quick smile. “I don’t need PE to ruin my perfect score.”
The whistle screeches again. “We ready?”
I take my spot, glancing over my shoulder to make sure everyone’s in the right place.
Across the net, Landon locks eyes with me.
My eyes narrow as I bend my knees.
Try me, motherfucker.
A wide grin spreads across his face.
The serve comes from their side, clean and fast. My back row barely gets under the ball, and Patrick pops it too low.
“Mine!” I dive forward and tip the ball over the net.
It drops to the floor on the other side.
Point.
Patrick claps me on the back. “Nice, Morgan.”
My team rotates as we switch positions. The game moves fast, as if that first point lit the fire under everyone. Not thatit helps, because my team makes sloppy passes. It’s like they’re one second behind every play, scrambling around like a bunch of chickens.
“Get your hands up!” I shoot a glare at one of the guys. “Be prepared for the ball.”
Or just catch it with your face, dumbass.
Patrick is the only other athlete on my team, and he’s a goalie, so his skillset is different. Plus, he’s too busy staring at the girls’ asses to care. I can’t expect much from this group. Meanwhile, Landon has Evan, and a girl from the soccer team.
Landon rotates to the front, and I’m pissed as hell that I’m not directly in front of him at the net.
“Watch the line,” I say. “He’s going to cross.”
“No one even knows what that means,” Rebecca mutters in front of me.
I blink at her. “We literally learned it two days ago.”
