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He reaches up and wraps his hand around my wrist, holding on—holding me here. He stands slowly and my hand falls away as his comes up to sweep what I imagine is smeared, crusty glitter from my cheek. His eyes dip to my mouth, briefly, and I see the flash of guilt in his eyes that he would even consider a kiss from me right now. Thing is, though, I still want one.
Lifting up on my toes, I catch his face between my palms and press my lips to his for a soft kiss that lingers, our mouths motionless yet teeming with electricity. I fall back on my heels and look away before he catches the tears threatening my eyes. I don’t run out of the archive room, but I don’t waste time leaving him with his thoughts, either.
Damn me for giving in and tasting him one last time. I like him so damn much—at least the parts of him that are brave enough to be with a girl like me.
As angry as I try to be at him, as much as I want to say no, my body refuses. I’m always left breathless. And alone.
Chapter16
James
I’ve come to learn a few things about places like Welles. Grand schemes and manipulations are everywhere, and they come in all scales and sizes. There are students undermining teachers, and the same goes for the reverse. Some families use their name to hold the school hostage, and the school uses those names to bully other people around.
Toby got what he wanted. He never had some grand master plan to get me off the team so he could take over, though I still don’t believe he wouldn’t squash me like a bug if he had the chance. He only wanted me to hurt. To look bad. To expose a blemish on my character like the rest of them.
And I think a part of him wanted Morgan. She would never give a guy like him a chance, though. Her standards are far too high. They’re too high for me, too, and I accept that. Barely. Begrudgingly. At least, I do for today.
It’s been two days since she walked out of that office. Forty hours since I sent her the longest text of my life, rife with apology and empty on excuses. She hasn’t responded, and I’m honestly not sure how to speak to her face to face. She’s right to wait me out. What she deserves is more than an “I’m sorry,” and she deserves it in person.
I’m distracted, for sure. It’s showing on the field. Yesterday, I hit my targets maybe fifty percent of the time, and today I can’t seem to quit soaring the ball ten yards past the end zone on the special play we set up for this weekend’s game. Toby’s dad is hovering in the stands along with our athletic director, and I know they’re going to give my dad an earful after practice about letting him take a shot at running this since I seem to be such shit at it. He won’t be able to make the pass either, but at that point we’re both garbage quarterbacks.
I take a snap, roll back a few steps, and turn to spot my target. Theo cuts through the end zone and I fling the ball toward the corner. He manages to hang on to my missile and keep one foot inbounds, but not two.
“Fuck!” My frustration echoes off of the stands on the hill. I glance over in time to see Toby’s dad leaning into the athletic director and covering his mouth to share some comment that I’m certain is about me.
“All right, let’s stop there for the day. Theo . . . James . . . Toby!” My dad waves the three of us over and my insides crumple. I’m literally handing this job to Toby.
“Cameron, close us out!” My dad sends him off to circle everyone else up and pack up for the day while he pulls the three of us to the side.
“Gentlemen.” My dad’s stubble is growing out, and it sounds like sandpaper when he runs his palm over his chin. Clipboard hugged to his chest, he looks down at the grass between our circled-up feet. “We’ve got to do better. Saturday is a big game, rivals and all that, and we can’t come out there with the kind of shit I saw today.”
Toby snickers, and my dad’s head snaps up to stare at him.
“I saidwe,Toby. Your footwork is sloppy and you’re going to get our running backs killed if you can’t hand the ball off tighter. And forget about making the run yourself. You’re too slow.”
Toby’s mouth hangs open and for a second his eyes flash in offense. My dad keeps his glare on him, though, waiting for him to argue. My father’s done kid-gloving him because he’s special. And he’s right; all three of us were shit today. Theo should get a free pass, though, because it’s my fault he couldn’t pull anything in.
“James, you’re going the entire first quarter how I have it now—”
“Uhm, what?” Toby cuts my father off. My dad’s only response is to move his clipboard to his right and hold it against Toby’s chest.
“Unless you can’t sort through these yips you seem to have with hitting your target. Lipson Prep is going to be tough. They’re our only real competition as far as I’m concerned, and we are going to have to be our absolute best if we want to win.” He turns to me, taking the clipboard away from Toby’s chest and spearing mine with the corner. “Game time is not the time to practice hitting your targets. Got it?”
My dad’s brow lifts, and he keeps his focus on me a few seconds after I say, “Yes, sir.” This is bigger than him showing favoritism. If I don’t get my shit together, he can’t afford to lose the game taking a gamble on me.
“Theo,” he barks, the clipboard leaving my body as he hands it to Theo instead. “You were great today. I want you to learn these routes. We’re going to need them, assuming someone can throw the ball to you.”
“Yes, sir,” Theo says.
My father turns around and heads up the hill to the locker room where he’ll bury himself in his office and pray that Toby’s dad and the AD don’t come knocking.
“Something in your head today, Fuentes? You were all over the place,” Toby snarks. It’s nothing new from him, and honestly, I was expecting it. Maybe I even wanted it. Because I shove him backward on his ass in a blink and land with my knee in his stomach, pinning him to the ground.
“Hey, cool it! That’s not gonna help anything. James, come on,” Theo pleads at my back. I feel the tug of his hand jerking my shoulder pads upward. I give my knee a little nudge, just enough to let Toby feel it, as I flinch at him.
I get up but he stays on the ground for a few seconds, his usual laughter in the face of my intimidation not there this time. His sneer is tinged with fear, which I like.
“I don’t like being manipulated,” I say, spitting on the ground next to me before turning my back on him and walking toward the locker room with Theo. He doesn’t say a word to me until we’re well out of Toby’s earshot.
