Page 25 of One Bet

“I was just getting to know your…friend.” I could’ve done without the grimace attached to the last word, but I kept my fake, pasty smile in place.

Keaton ignored it and stepped back to stand about halfway between me and his dad. “I didn’t know you were coming this week.”

“Yes, well, we need to talk. Maybe your friend could give us a minute?” He looked at me, smiled again, and lifted his eyebrows.

It was a hint to get out. “I’ll just…” I pointed behind me to the door. “Right.”

Leaving made sense. I walked out onto the deck and left using the small ramp that led from the boat to the dock. I’d almost made it to the bus stop when Keaton caught me by the arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere away, where I can forget the fact that I walked onto your dad’s boat to find him holding up my…” I handed him the stocking and turned to continue walking. “Away.”

Keaton moved to block my path and I swerved around him. “Avery, wait. My dad wants to go to dinner. Please.”

“Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to dinner with you. I’m not the kind of girl you usually date or bring to dinner.” His dad’s words had affected me, and they hurt even though they were his and not Keaton’s. “Or to your boat.”

I plopped down on the bench inside the bus shelter hard enough that the whole structure rattled, and I hurt my tailbone.

He sat beside me. “If you want to get to know me, really know me, this is how you do it.”

I shot him a glare I only half felt. “It isn’t fair to use my own shit against me.”

But I took his hand when he stood and offered it, then walked beside him back to the boat. An hour later, we were sitting at a table in a restaurant with a dress code I violated in about ten ways.

Of all the places I’d ever been and people I’d ever met, I’d never felt so out of my element. Everyone in the restaurant, including Keaton and his dad, was perfectly coiffed in designer makeup and clothes. I had my thrift store cardigan, scuffed heels, and mostly fresh face and it only took about forty seconds after we sat for me to knock my water glass into the candle on the table which fell over. Thankfully, the water doused the flame before I could catch the whole place on fire, but the water was heading right for Mr. Shaw and me, quick thinking, stood and threw my napkin at the moving puddle, but I wasn’t the quarterback at the table so, of course, the napkin landed on Keaton’s dad’s head and the water dripped off the table onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not clumsy. I’m just nervous.” I was babbling, standing and babbling as Keaton’s dad pulled my napkin from his hair, which still looked remarkably good. “Do you use hairspray? Because, wow.”

Next to me, Keaton chuckled, and I sank back to my chair, wishing I could shrivel and die, then his dad smiled. “I use gel.”

Of the three people at our table, I was the only one who didn’t find this funny. I sighed and smoothed my sweaty hands down the front of my skirt, wishing I still had a veil of hair to hide behind. Keaton squeezed my hand under the table as his dad watched us. “So, Ashley, Keaton tells me you’ve been helping him with his classes.”

Did I look like an Ashley? “It’s Avery. And we study together, but…”

We hadn’t studied much, and he didn’t really seem to need my help.

“Yes, well, Keaton’s always been a better athlete than he has been a student.” His tone went dry and the insult wasn’t just implied.

Now it was my turn to squeeze his hand. “Well, the school has certainly benefited from his athletic ability. Three championships in three years.”

“Football isn’t a career, Avery.” As he spoke to me, he glanced at Keaton. “For his brother maybe, but Keaton doesn’t have that kind of talent.”

Thanks to our midnight chat, I already knew his brother had been killed in Afghanistan. Keaton fiddled with one of his three forks, tapping his finger on the edge. “I think Keaton’s talent speaks for itself.”

“Avery, don’t.” I glanced at him, saw the embarrassment, and my heart ached for him. My mom might not have been rich or even had enough money to afford school lunches when I was a kid, but she loved me, and she was proud of everything I had ever accomplished or even attempted. As I was about to inform Mr. Shaw of the error of his parenting ways, Keaton looked up at me and smiled, then turned to his father.

“Julian was a great ballplayer, Dad.” His voice was soft, almost soothing.

I sat back, my understanding of Keaton a little greater, my blossoming feelings a little deeper. He might have had more stuff, but I had the better life.

16

Keaton

I’d forgotten how much I loved being on the practice field at Glouster. Here, I was a god. Celebrated. Revered. Talented. What I wasn’t, was a has-been, not injured or damaged and it felt really good.

It also kept my mind off Avery. Well, mostly, until I looked up at the storm clouds and thought of her eyes. It took me a few minutes to refocus and that was how my afternoon worked. Instead of watching practice, planning how I would help, a hundred things made me think of Avery. And smile. And hope. Until finally I left the stadium. I wanted to find her, just see her. Instead, I walked out of the player entrance to the stadium and stopped.