Page 20 of He Hate Me

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I need one too. I’ll be right back.”

In the kitchen there’s a tub with ice and lite beers. I stoop to get us each one and when I turn around Gio has slipped into the room. This is one of those older houses with the kitchen closed off from the rest of the house, and we’re alone in the fairly small room. He steps closer, and I don’t move. I’m standing there, near the back door, holding two freezing cans in my hands, and something about the way he’s looking at my face holds me firmly in place. Gio’s been saying that he likes me, but the heat in his expression makes it real. His dark eyes are filled with intensity. He takes one more step and then his lips are on mine, cool and soft. Why kiss me now? We’ve been hanging out at parties like this before, but this is the first time he’s made such a bold move. I pull away instinctively, not sure why I do it. Don’t I like Gio? Shouldn’t I be enjoying this?

The beer cans slip from my fingers and bang loudly on the tile floor. His eyes search for the cans, and as he bends to pick up the dropped beer, I see that Brandon is standing in the doorway, his expression is stony.

“…beers,” Mello says, appearing behind them in the doorway. His eyes go from me to Gio and there’s a flicker of something that makes my stomach drop, because I invited Mello, and I know he came to hang out with me. Worse, Brandon looks a combination of disappointed and pissed. My body is hot with embarrassment, and there’s something like loss from what I’m seeing on Brandon’s face. Why? I can’t be starting to like him, can I?

And Gio. Why didn’t he even try to kiss me until he thought another guy was in the picture?

I don’t know what I want, and my mind is still whirling while I get Mello and Von drinks, and we all head out onto the back deck at Mackenzie’s suggestion. Gio puts his arms around my waist and asks the soccer players about themselves. Mello’s eyes are practically shooting lasers at Gio by this point, but Brandon is harder to read. Gio’s questions are general and focused on the sport itself, but his attention is locked on Carmello. I let my mind drift, enjoying the way the cold air feels against my heated skin.

“You’re on,” Brandon says, smirking, bringing my attention back to the conversation.

“What?” I blurt, forgetting myself for a moment.

“Me and Von vs you and Carmello,” Gio says, clasping hands with Brandon in that macho way that guys like to do. It’s a quick dap and then they all pile down the deck stairs onto the cold, nearly icy grass of Brayden’s backyard.

“Are you guys kidding?” I say. “You don’t even have cleats.”

“We got everything we need, babe,” Gio says, laughing. “I got mine in my trunk. You guys got yours?”

“Hell yeah, we do,” Mello says.

“This is stupid,” I say to Mackenzie as the boys set up folding nets and shit in the backyard. People start filtering outside onto the deck. I wrap my arms around myself. The cold isn’t as soothing anymore.

“It’s Gio’s fault,” Mackenzie says, as if the fact that he and I are talking somehow makes me responsible for his decisions. “He was saying how Americans can’t play ‘football’ and Italians are the greatest. You know Brandon wasn’t going to take that sitting down.”

But this isn’t about Brandon at all. This is Gio’s roundabout way of starting a fight with Carmello, which is stupid since he doesn’t even know for sure there’s anything between me and him. Gio has been a bit of a Lothario so far, but I wouldn’t have pegged him for a hothead.

They start playing and right away I can tell that this isn’t Gio’s first rodeo. He’s not as tall as the other guys, but he’s fast and agile. In the backyard floodlights I can see Von kind of hanging back and watching his teammate. The first couple of times Gio tries to pass to him he’s a little slow, but it doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm. Brandon and Mello don’t even look at each other, but their big bodies dominate the pitch. It’s not that they’re slow, but their energy is all efficiency and patience. They break up a long pass and nearly score before Gio races like a speed demon to stop them with a wild kick that sends the ball smashing into the side of the house. The loud slap makes me jump, but they all laugh and bump into each other like oversized toddlers.

They go back and forth for a little bit, Brandon and Mello clearly dominating, and finally kicking the ball into one of the little nets. I see Gio spit on the grass and wipe sweat from his forehead and then his eyes lock with Mello’s. I can’t say what passes between them, but it’s not good. Gio rolls his shoulders and pulls his long-sleeved t-shirt off, leaving his surprisingly toned torso bare to the mid-40s air. Mello follows suit, those acres of amazing skin and rippling muscles sheeted with sweat. Brandon and Von exchange confused looks and then Brandon shakes his head, locking eyes with me. Whatever happens now, he’s going to blame me.

Eight

Deja

More than anything at this moment I want to turn on my heel and run. Straight through the house, out the front door, and into my car. Forget that I’m Shelby’s ride. Forget that these are my friends. Just turn away from whatever is about to happen in my name and drive away as fast as I can. Instead, I fold my arms and cock my head nonchalantly, looking for all the world like I don’t particularly care about what’s happening in front of me.

Brandon’s lips tighten and he drops back into a defensive position. Gio whispers something to Devonte and they slap hands. The next few skirmishes are quick. Gio pushes forward towards the other goal, almost like he’s playing 1 on 2. Von gets into position for a pass a couple of times, but Gio ignores him, losing possession twice to Brandon. The lack of teamwork makes them easy to dominate, and it should reassure me, but I just can’t shake the feeling that something is going to happen that I won’t like very much. Finally, Gio acknowledges Von, passing the ball forward to him. He dribbles, eyes focused on Brandon’s approach. His foot snaps and the ball sails across the yard to Gio, whose body seems to float upwards, his feet off the ground as he heads the ball towards the goal. It’s a crazy move with the little practice goals they’re using, but the ball drops like it’s being drawn forward by a magnet. Brandon throws himself sideways, trying desperately to intercept, but it’s too late. The score is tied.

Shelby shoots me a nervous look. There is a smattering of applause, and I think this is where most people were expecting this impromptu backyard soccer match to wrap up, but the four guys don’t look like they’re ready to quit. Mello flexes his muscular shoulders and spits on the grass. Mello and Gio stare at each other intensely, eyes narrowed, and jaws clenched. I’ve heard that some women are flattered by having men fight over them, but I’m telling you this is not it. Take away Brandon’s annoying ass and I’d still be unhappy about this. It’s a fine line between people seeing you as a hot girl that guys want and seeing you as a duplicitous bitch who leads them on. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wanting to shut out the whole situation.

There’s a collective inhalation and I refocus on the guys. I missed whatever caused the group to react, but now Mello has the ball and is spinning around, his long arms swinging outwards from his body. He kicks the ball down the grass and chases after it, no one in position to stop him from scoring. Just as he closes with the ball, Gio slides in at an angle, clipping Mello at the ankle and entirely missing the ball. I’m not an expert on the rules of the game, but based on everyone’s reaction that is not an okay thing to do. Mello’s legs fly out from under him, his body flipping up into the air. He lands awkwardly on his right side, and Gio turns the ball around going for the other team’s goal.

Only no one is paying any attention to Gio anymore. Brandon and Von are rushing to check on Mello, whose face is twisted in agony. I’m down the stairs too, before I can really think about it. I get there just as a couple of other guys from the soccer team do. Brandon shoots me a hard look as I crouch next to his friend. Mello is sitting up, but his ankle does not look right. His breaths are coming fast and sharp.

“What do we do?” Someone asks, above my head.

“Is it bad?” another voice says.

All I can think is that Mello is hurt, and that it’s my fault. I didn’t tell Gio to do any of this or even give him a solid reason to think that there was something between Mello and me, but if I wasn’t talking to both of them Mello wouldn’t be lying on the ground right now with an injury that’s probably going to keep him from playing the rest of the semester, if not longer.

Just like that I lose it. I’m on my feet and in Gio’s face forgetting for the first time in a long time that everyone is watching me. I jab him in the chest with my forefinger and he jerks backwards, a confused look on his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell, shoving him hard. “Are you crazy?”