Read Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game Online

Authors: Katie Ashley

Tags: #loss, #death, #young love, #Grief, #teenage romance

Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game (15 page)

BOOK: Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game
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“Man, that’s a pity,” Jonathan said.

I quickly sent the five naughty pics to the recycling
bin. Then I emptied it. “Okay, problem solved.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan murmured with a wistful look in his
eye.

I slapped him on the arm. “Dude, quit memorizing the
pictures of Honey Boo-Boo—I mean Avery—for your spank bank!”

He grinned wickedly and waggled his eyebrows. “Sorry
but some pictures can’t ever be erased!”

“Yeah, that sounds exactly like something Jake
would’ve said,” I said.

The mention of Jake brought us back to ourselves. An
awkward silence hung in the air. I eyed the phone and then looked
at Jonathan. “Hey man, would you mind if I took this phone? You
know, for evidence and detective bullshit.”

“Sure. Mom and Dad won’t mind—they probably won’t
even miss it for a while.”

“Okay, cool.” As I weighed the phone in my palm, I
glanced up at Jonathan. “So do you have any idea who the ring chick
might be?”

Jonathan rocked back on his heels before shaking his
head. “I mean, I didn’t know of any specific girls in Jake’s life
besides Honey Boo-Boo and that Presley chick.”

While I bobbed my head in agreement, Maddie’s face
once again entered my mind. “What about Pastor Dan’s daughter?”

With his blonde brows furrowing, Jonathan gave me an
epic WTF? look. “The girl who tutored Jake?”

“Yeah, Maddie.”

“Dude, I don’t think so. I mean, Jake might’ve
mentioned her once or twice to me, but he never sounded like he had
a jonesing for her.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I thought about the many
faces of Jake that Maddie, Pastor Dan, and even myself had seen.
“But what if he was keeping his feelings for her a secret? Like he
was hiding them away just like this ring?”

Jonathan snorted skeptically. “When did Jake ever
hide anything? He said and did exactly what he wanted to.”

“Um duh, the ring?” I argued.

He pursed his lips in thought. “Well, maybe it could
be her. Who knows. I’ll just say I’ll be shocked as hell if it
actually turns out to be her.”

“You and me both,” I murmured. I then started for the
door. Jonathan’s voice stopped me. “Hey Noah?”

I turned around. “Yeah?”

“Blowing up is pretty quick, right? I mean, you don’t
think Jake felt anything on that tractor, do you?”

Anguish swam in his dark blue eyes. I didn’t know
what Jake felt in that last moment—that last second. I hoped he
hadn’t felt anything—that he was here one minute and gone the next.
Maybe in the end it didn’t matter if you knew for sure—maybe you
could just choose to believe what you wanted.

So, I shook my head at Jonathan. “No man, you heard
Bubba when they said it was quick. I’m sure Jake didn’t feel a
thing.”

Jonathan weighed my answer for a few seconds before
nodding. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” I replied.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, I began the task of working
my way through Jake’s phone. His address book was a symbolic black
book like from back in the day. I started with the girls Jake had
labeled “Butter Faces”—meaning everything was hot
but
the
chicks’ faces.

And it was a bodacious bevy of hot bods I
‘interviewed’ that week. Long legs, fabulous racks, Jennifer Lopez
like asses, but none of them had a song with Jake. Well, Libby
Petersen did, but it was
Let’s Get Drunk and Screw
, not
You Were Always on My Mind
.

I started to get discouraged. What if I wasn’t able
to find
her
? Jake had dated and screwed extensively not only
through Creekview, but also at some of the other high school in our
county. It was almost an unending journey—one I might still be on
in my old age where I finally tracked down the girl to a nursing
home.

Thursday as I sat zoned out at the lunch table, I
felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Maddie. The moment I saw her, I
couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread across my face. “Hey,”
I said as I hopped up from my chair.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“I haven’t seen you around this week.”

“Yeah, I’ve been at All State Chorus
competition.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh, huh.”

Maddie and I stood awkwardly at the table. I could
feel the expectant gazes of the guys at my table bearing into my
back. “So did you, like, uh, win?” I stammered.

“We came in third as a group, and I came in second as
an individual.”

“Wow, that’s awesome,” I replied. The back of my
shirt was practically peeling off from the burn from the guys
gaping at me and Maddie.

Maddie must’ve sensed my awkwardness. “Well, I just
wanted to say hello and see how you were doing,” she said, a slight
blush creeping across her cheeks.

My heart jolted a little in my chest. Damn. She was
worried about how I was doing with my grief—so much so she’d risked
being embarrassed or annihilated by the A-Crowd just to check on
me. She started to turn away, but I grabbed her arm. “I’ll walk you
out.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows in surprise, but then she
smiled. “Okay.”

Without a word to the guys, I grabbed my books and
followed Maddie out of the cafeteria.

“What about you?” I asked, as we headed through the
double doors. “I mean, how are you doing?”

She shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess.” Her big dark eyes
widened. “Oh Noah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be talking about how
I feel. I had so little time with Jake, and the two of you were
best friends since you were kids.” She rubbed my arm tenderly,
causing the hairs on my arm to rise. “I bet you’re really lost
without him,” she said.

Damn, she’d really hit the nail on the head. I hated
to admit that without Jake around, I did feel lost—like I didn’t
know who I was anymore. Having those type of feelings running
around in my head made me feel like a total pussy. The world I’d
known had shattered around me in an instant, and now everything
seemed so surreal. People went on doing exactly what they’d done
before while I tip-toed through this new reality.

Once again, the dull ache in my chest radiated at the
thoughts of Jake. “Yeah, I am,” I murmured.

Maddie smiled sadly at me. “I can’t even imagine how
much you miss him, Noah. I wish there was something I could
do—”

“No, it’s okay. Just being here and talking about
him—that helps me,” I answered.

The bell rang shrilly over our heads. “Well, I guess
I better go. It was good seeing you,” Maddie said.

“Yeah, same here.”

“Bye,” she said.

“Bye,” I murmured.

As she walked away, it once again hit me like a ton
of bricks or a swift kick to the balls. I’d been through most of
the girls in Jake’s phone and zilch. When I’d gotten to Maddie’s
number, I’d skipped over it. Why? Because wasn’t she just the
preacher’s goody daughter who was merely a friend and a tutor? But
then I thought about what she’d said at the cemetery, and the
things he’d confided in her—things he’d never told me when he was
shitfaced or sober.

The more I thought about it, the more some of the
pieces starting coming together. The more the pieces started coming
together, the more I felt like a giant dumbass for not seeing it
before. I made a mental note to rule out any form of detective work
in my future since I was pretty suckasstastic at it.

Maddie could be
her
. The more I allowed myself
to think it, the less I wanted it to be true. Something within me
didn’t want Maddie to be Jake’s or most of all that Jake was
Maddie’s.

***

It had been a hell of a week. To get my mind
off of Jake, his harem of women, and Maddie, I decided to go to a
party at Presley Patterson’s house. I knew it was probably a
mistake, but at the same time, I was ready for a little refreshment
to take my mind off things.

By the time I got there, the party was in full swing.
Presley lived in one of the nicer houses on the shitty side of
town. The rumor was many years ago Presley’s mom had a fling with
Elvis Presley right before he died. Then she’d made her rounds
during the 80’s being a groupie for most of the heavy metal
bands—the bigger the hair the better. But I guess she never lost
her love for Elvis because when Presley was born, she named her
after him.

I found most of “the crowd” at the party. I wasn’t
too surprised to find a game of practically naked Twister going on.
Presley’s parties were notoriously risqué, even for our crowd.
“What’s up, Noah!” Blaine called to me, his voice muffled from
underneath a couple of girls stripped to their bra and panties.

“Hey, Blaine,” I replied. I looked around the room.
“Where’s the beer?”

“Kitchen,” he mumbled.

I called hello to some of the other party goers as I
made my way down to the hall. In the kitchen, I found the
mother-load with two coolers of Budweiser. Before I knew it, I’d
guzzled three beers. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect than
the one I desired. I got a raging pain in my head like someone was
stabbing me with an ice pick behind my right eye. The insane
thumping of the party music only made it worse. I couldn’t focus on
any of the conversations, and I certainly couldn’t get into a curvy
freshman who was chatting me up while trying to feel me up.

With my head pounding, I snuck into Presley’s
bedroom. I quickly scanned the room for any couples using the room
to hook up. Fortunately for me, the coast was clear. I was well
acquainted with Presley’s room since I’d lost my virginity to
Presley’s cousin at a New Year’s party sophomore year. Jake had
reacted like a proud father—thumping me on the back and
congratulating me. Of course always the player, he’d lost his when
we were in the eighth grade to one of Jonathan’s
ex-girlfriends.

I rummaged in Presley’s medicine cabinet for some
Advil, Tylenol, anything. Finally, I found some next to a bottle of
Midol. Popping pills and chasing them with beer is never a good
idea, but I did it anyway. I was willing to do anything—including
cutting my head off to be rid of the pain.

I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Being in the
dark was better on my head. I eased down on the bed and draped my
arm over my eyes. Just as I was about to dose off, I heard a noise
next to the door.

“Noah? Noah, are you in here?” a voice whispered.

“Yeah,” I moaned.

Light from the hallway momentarily flooded the room
as someone entered. They closed the door behind them. I didn’t know
who it was until the lamp beside the bed flicked on.

It was Presley.

“Hey,” she said, with a crooked grin.

“Hey.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“My head hurts like hell,” I groaned.

Presley sat down beside me. “Oh, you poor baby. I’m
so sorry.”

The next thing I knew her lips were on mine. I jerked
away. “Presley, what the-”

BOOK: Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game
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