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3 I Am Machine
Junior Year, Rob
My shiny bluemuscle car purrs as I pull into my usual parking spot at school. All the other students loiter around their vehicles, stalling as long as possible before starting another lousy day filled with teachers, assignments, and the usual high school bullshit. Their words come out in clouds of white that remind me of comic strip speech bubbles. They huddle together for warmth against the frosty winter air rather than take shelter inside the building. While they stand in groups and talk excitedly about their plans for the weekend, I hide out in my car until the last possible minute.
I’m not in the mood to fake it today with my teammates. Hell, I’m not even in the mood to hang out with my friends. Their constant looks of pity and words of encouragement are getting on my last fucking nerve.
If I have to hear one more time about how I’ll get over it, and it’s her loss, I will lose my shit.
The loss isn’t hers alone. It’s definitely mine, too. And it hurts more than if I’d lost the biggest game of my life.
My head falls back onto the leather seat with a dull thud that echoes around the interior of the Mustang. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a few deep breaths of the faint scent of Pops’ aftershave, which fades away a little more every day. If you’d have told me a couple of months ago that two of the few things I truly love and admire in this world would be ripped away from me, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Yet here I sit—my grandfather, mentor, and overall hero six feet under after a suicide no one saw coming, and the girl of my dreams dating someone else.
Life is such a fucking bitch sometimes.
Especially when hindsight is 20/20, and you know damn well you could’ve prevented or— at the very least—changed the outcome.
All I had to do was pick up the phone that fateful night six weeks ago. Maybe if Pops had heard my voice, had someone to talk him through his grief, he’d still be here. If I’d noticed how much he was missing his own girl, I wouldn’t have gone on and on about mine every time I visited. Instead of listening to his advice about how to win over my crush, I could have listened to more of his stories about the love of his life. Maybe if I’d just paid a little more attention when he came to see me play for the state championship, I’d have noticed he was off. But, no. I was too busy celebrating. Too busy searching for the gorgeous, blue eyes I fantasize about every night in the sea of fans and exhausted, sweaty football players.
I never did find her in the crowd that day.
That was another missed opportunity. With all the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I would’ve finally done it. I would have kissed the fuck out of her and, hell…probably asked her to marry me. Then she would’ve laughed, and we both might have brushed it off as a joke and byproduct of the euphoria of a big win. The biggest win.
Followed by two of the toughest losses I’ve ever had to choke down.
It’s fucking ridiculous that I was more concerned about landing a date with the girl who doesn’t give a damn about me instead of spending time with my grandfather. My priorities have been fucked up for way too long. I just never imagined she’d force me to set them straight, but only after it was too late. Pops is gone. Evie’s moved on. And I’m just…left behind.
My door abruptly swings open, which nearly causes me to fall out of my seat and onto the pavement.
“Get your brooding ass out of this fine car and into the building, Falls.”
I roll my eyes and stifle a smartass retort, choosing to reach over to the passenger seat for my backpack instead of punching Alex. He’s been an unfailing rock of support for me since Pops’s funeral. His methods of trying to cheer me up where Evie and her new boyfriend are concerned aren’t as welcome, but they’re still well meaning.
He keeps stride with me as we cross the parking lot to the entrance of hell, a.k.a. Ironville High. “So, I was thinking tonight after the game, we hit the diner and see what single chicks take the bait. Then head back to my place for some real fun.”
I don’t even bother to hide my scoff. “Real fun” to Alex means making out until he at least reaches second base. Or more.
“Wait a minute.” I study him as we walk through the double doors. “How do you not already have a date lined up for tonight?”
His sharp, blue eyes gleam with excitement even as he shrugs and tries to play it cool. “I don’t always have something planned. Sometimes it’s good to just fly by the seat of your pants and see where things take you. Ya know?”
Yeah. I see what he’s doing here. Trying to get me to buy his line of bullshit and make me believe everything will be okay. Same fucking song and dance I’ve been hearing for the past month. Whatever. I’m over it.
“So, what you’re really saying is that if you snag a girl at the game, I can do what I really want to do tonight?”
A voice booms behind me. “No. We’re not letting you sulk in your bedroom for another Friday night.”
I whirl around only to be met with Mike’s hard stare as he walks toward the junior wing of the building with us.
He’s probably the only person in this building more pissed off than I am that Eddie got to Evie before I did. I’ve been avoiding his inevitable dressing down over the whole situation as much as possible, but it looks like my last thread of luck has finally worn thin.
Alex claps my shoulder as I turn around. “Come on. You need to get out and live a little, bro. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”
“We don’t need girls to have a good time.” Mike falls into step on my other side. “It can be just us guys tonight.”
“I don’t think your girlfriend is really going to be cool with you ditching her for a guys’ night.” I don’t have the energy not to snark back at both of them.
