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“Gotta find them first.”
Harper holds out her hand. “There are a lot of them out on that floor. I know a really gorgeous girl who wears number two.”
I widen my eyes, but before I can say anything, Jakob speaks up. “Woman, what are you doing? They’re best friends. Don’t meddle with that.” He then leans into me. “She’s stressed cause Chalupa is back in the picture.”
I don’t know why it makes me laugh so hard that Jakob won’t call Ally’s ex Taco, but it does. I prefer Nacho, but Chalupa is funny too. But then I realize what he just said—and now, I’m pissed. “I thought she was calling that off?”
“She says she is, but we all know how that goes.”
I shake my head. “Such shit. She deserves better.”
“Exactly. So maybe you should jump in there?” Harper suggests, and I laugh.
“Harp, come on, it’s not like that,” Jakob says once more. “She’ll find someone good. Asher won’t let her live down dating shit.”
“This is true,” I agree as the game starts.
“I just think you two are great together. Why not take it to the next level?”
I’ve never had a mom openly say she wants me to have sex with her daughter, but I’m pretty sure that’s what Harper is insinuating. Jakob gives her a dirty look. “Can you not pimp out our daughter?”
She shrugs. “Just saying. Sometimes friends are meant to be more.”
I can’t even process what she’s saying before Jakob’s voice turns very stern. “Harper, stop, baby. She’s gonna be fine. Stop putting Asher on the spot. We want him around.”
She looks at me, and I smile. “I’ll always be around.”
She exhales heavily. “I just wish it was in the way I wanted.”
I blink, and then the whistle is blown.
Easy to say, the rest of the game is totally awkward.
Chapter Six
Ally
“Two! Two! I said fucking two!”
When I call my position, I feel I should get the fucking ball. I know that sometimes the ball doesn’t do what my back row wants it to, but I know damn well Nicolette could get it to me. Instead, she passes it to Angie, who does a shit-ass job of setting it, because hello, she’s not a setter, leaving me to make a play out of complete shit.
I succeed, but still, come the hell on!
I tip the ball short, and when the opposition tries to hit it up, she gets caught in the net. Point for the Bullies. It puts us up by four, a good lead, but four fuckups or four aces, and they will catch up.
“We need to keep the lead! Nic, babe, come on!” I yell as we circle up, patting one another’s backs. “I need the pass so I can set. It’s Volleyball 101. Pass it to your setter.”
She’s sucking in breath. We did just have an intense volley, but that’s why we condition like crazy. For the endurance we need to stay in the game. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I pat her thigh, giving her a stern but loving look. “You got this. Let’s do this, girls. Let’s get this set.”
Coach Taylor is yelling something, but I don’t hear him. The gym is packed with students and families. I hear my dad clear as a bell, though, and Asher. They have this weird cheer they do where they spell out my name, and my mom yells the first letter of our last name when they finish. It’s really embarrassing, but it is awesome to hear after so long. I don’t know how it started, the whole Ally T and Ash B thing. Maybe it was back in camp when there was another Ally and Asher. So, we made sure everyone knew who we were. Plus, we were the cooler Ally and Asher. Duh. A grin pulls at my lips. It’s a nice reminder that we had the best time at camp.
It’s the first game Asher has been able to make since he moved back. I was nervous when I saw him come in. He was checking the place out, taking it all in like he always does. His jeans were loose on his legs, as was his jacket on his shoulders. Now, though, he has the jacket off, and the shirt my mom made him back when he was in high school doesn’t fit a lick. I don’t even know why he is wearing it. I’m sure it’s for me, and it makes me all giggly inside. Special. He makes me feel special.
And I am going to win this game for him.
We lose the ball after our libero passes it way too hard to our second setter since Angie and I are blocked, and Jenny’s pass goes right into the net instead of up so her hitter can make it over. They’ve figured out our signature play, so we have to move it to the left. It’s cool; I can set Lisha just fine. I pat my chest and Katie looks confused, but I give her a stern look, willing her to know what I mean. Thankfully, when the ball comes to her, she passes it to me. Angie goes to move as if she is going to hit it, but I pass it backward to Lisha, who demolishes the ball. Point.
