The Playmaker (A Big Play Novel Book 1) (7 page)

#11:

The Inevitable

Tori

I skip down the stairs and am nearly out the front door when I’m stopped by my mother’s voice.

“Hey, hey, not so fast.”

I let go of the handle, but keep facing the stained glass panel on our oak door. The morning sunlight is making the red tulip petals glow. Mom made it a few years back. She’s got a thing for tulips.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

I glance over my shoulder. “School, Mom. You know, the big building where we learn stuff.”

She laughs at my playful wink and spins me around to face her. “What about breakfast? Do you want me to make you an avocado and oatmeal smoothie?”

I swallow, willing my mouth not to form a grimace. “I’m good. I’ve got a granola bar in my bag. I really need to get going. I have a huge assignment looming, and I need to get some research done in the library.”

You see, I have to do it in the morning because my afternoons have been spent hanging out with the world’s best-looking human and learning all about how I can score one of his best friends, the whole time actually trying to make him want to score with me. It sounds complicated, but it works in my head.

Pressing my lips together, I swallow down the truth that is invading my mouth. Like I can admit any of that to my mother.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you since school started. You’re rushing in one minute, then dashing out the next. I didn’t think senior year would be this busy.”

I dip my head to hide the heat building on my skin. Tucking a curl behind my ear, I flick the remainder over my shoulder and shrug. “I’m picking up extra hours at the burger house, classes are busier, and I’m really trying to make the most of my year.”

“Okay.” Mom nods, disappointment making her frown. Tipping her head to study me, she reaches for one of my loose curls and lovingly twirls it around her finger. She’s been doing that ever since I can remember. “My little Tori Jane…” She sighs with a smile that withers to a look of sadness. “What are you wearing?”

I look down at the ripped denim shorts I made out of an old pair of jeans last night. I matched it with a short tank that shows off the summer tan on my midriff. Two long necklaces hang low, the large aqua stone and muted silver feathers pressing against my belly button.

“They’re called clothes, Mom.”

“I know that.” She rubs my arm. “It’s just so different than what you usually wear. What happened to my rainbow girl? You’re all about the blues and blacks now. I miss the vibrant colors, the tie-dye. Your look has always been so unique.”

I want to say
exactly
and try to make her understand how much I want to fit in this year, but then she’ll give me her speech about individualism and make me feel bad for trying to fit the mold.

“It’s okay to change my look.” I fiddle with my necklaces, making them clink together. “I’m allowed to try out a new style.”

“Of course you are.” She grins, then looks me in the eye with her pale blue gaze. “As long as you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

Her auburn curls flop over her shoulder as she tips her head again. Her gaze penetrates below the surface, trying to unearth a truth I will never tell her.

“My reasons are good.” I force a smile that I hope looks genuine before kissing her on the cheek and spinning out the door.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” she calls through the open door. “Let your light shine!”

Two middle school guys who are walking past our house pause and shoot me an incredulous look before glancing at my mother. They snicker and I roll my eyes and stalk around to the side of the house to unlock my bike.

“So humiliating,” I mutter as I spin the combination lock. Swinging my leg over the seat, I head for school, enjoying the feel of the wind ruffling my hair.

I’ve decided today is going to be a good day, but that buzzy feeling I’ve been floating on for the last few weeks is harder to find when I have Mom’s words running on repeat in the back of my head.
As long as you’re doing it for the right reasons.

It shouldn’t be bugging me this much. My reasons are good. I want to get Colt’s attention and I totally have.
Operation Fall for Tori
is well underway and, so far, a raging success. He’s given me seven afternoons, two bonfires, and he even raised his chin at me when I walked past him in the hallway yesterday. It was subtle and no one around us noticed, but I did. My insides floated and sizzled for the rest of the day.

I also want to make my year more interesting, and the Raiders’ bonfires alone have done that. Hanging out with these guys is a total trip. I’ve found it intimidating, overwhelming, thrilling, fascinating. Sure, they don’t feel like my kind of people, but I could learn to like them. And yeah, okay, I don’t love the tight, restrictive clothing either, but it’s getting me what I want, so therefore my reasons are good!

I park my bike with a nod and chain it up next to Sam Carmichael’s BMX. Her ever-present smirk is in place as she checks out my
grandma
bike with the basket and my eyes glance over her
I’m a cool skater girl who spends my weekends doing tricks on my bike and board
bike. I can’t believe I’m intimidated by a junior, but come on, the girl looks like an elf from
Lord of the Rings
and has the attitude of Johnny Knoxville. She doesn’t give a shit what anybody thinks about her. I guess I used to be inclined a little more that way, but it wasn’t getting me what I wanted, so I had to change.

With a sigh, I stand tall and adjust the bag on my shoulder. A group of giggling girls move past me and I look up to see Layla’s eyes scan my attire. Her eyebrow arches with approval until she gets to my face, and then her expression crumples to one of pity. I can almost hear her thinking,
“Oh please, Tori. Do you honestly think you’ll ever fit in?”

It works like gasoline on my mother’s questioning, and an internal battle rages inside me for the rest of the day. I spot Colt in the corridor around third period. He doesn’t see me, but just a glimpse of him is enough to remind me what’s at stake. Determination smacks down my doubts, and I hold my chin high for the rest of the morning. At lunchtime, I waltz into the cafeteria and notice Amy in our usual spot. She sees me and raises her hand in greeting. I wave my fingers at her and move to take my usual seat, but am stopped by Finn’s deep voice.

“Hey, Pixie Girl. Want to join?”

I turn to take in the football table. It’s only half full, but will soon be overflowing with coolness. I notice Layla down one end, surrounded by her cheerleading beauties, and spot Mack halfway up the line, laughing at something Roxy Carmichael is saying. Colt’s not there, and that fact douses my nerves with a fresh wave of overpowering jitters.

“Um…” This would be the perfect chance to say yes. Colt will turn up sooner or later and maybe if he starts seeing that I can do this on my own, his motivation for helping me will shift from
being my savior
to noticing how cool I am.

I spin to look at Amy. Her eyes are narrowed as she watches my little exchange with Finn.

“Mind if Amy joins us?”

He looks a little dubious, but then shrugs and nods.

With a gleeful smile, I wave my hand, beckoning Amy across, but she just gives me a look and shakes her head. Not one of those unenthusiastic shakes that you can turn into a nod, but the emphatic kind that leaves no room for argument.

“Oh.” I point to my friend and look back at Finn. “I might have to pass this time. Looks like some serious girl talk is required.”

He glances at Amy and grins. “No worries, shorty. Maybe another time.”

“Okay.” I shuffle away, humiliation burning so bright I’m sure the blush has reached my thighs. I slump onto the bench seat and frown at my best friend. “Seriously? You’re not even willing to sit with them?”

She points her fork at me. “Hey, I’ve gone to two games with you already. I’m not giving up my lunchtime, as well.”

“They’re nice enough people. Come on, help me out.”

Her expression is pointed and absolute. “If you want to sit with them so bad, go for it. I’m not stopping you.”

I tip my head with a droll glare. “I’m not leaving you to sit by yourself. I just don’t like that you’re being a killjoy.”

She smirks at me, then stabs a lettuce leaf with her fork. “I’m not trying to kill any kind of joy. I just don’t want to put myself in the line of fire over there. Those cheerleaders can be vicious. I’m surprised you’re willing to take them on.”

“I’m not taking them on.” I frown as Amy’s eyebrows pop high.

“You’re going after one of their guys. There’s bound to be backlash.”

I swallow, stealing a quick glance over my shoulder. Roxy’s gaze happens to sweep past mine as I look. She does a double take and glares at me. Her smirk is pitiful, just like Layla’s this morning. I swivel back and snatch my yogurt cup off the tray. I wrestle with the lid, trying to ignore the fact that my fingers are shaking.

“I notice you’re upping the ante on the new clothing line. Very scarlet woman.”

“It’s not that bad.” I give up on the yogurt and snatch a carrot off Amy’s plate. “Not that I’d admit this to anyone but you, but the shorts keep riding up my butt. I think I got a little overzealous with the scissors last night.”

“Aren’t you worried that all these changes are turning you into someone you won’t like very much? I’m sure Colt will still think you’re awesome if you go back to your maxi dresses and bell bottoms.”

“He won’t hang out with me if I’m dressed like a hippie freak. I need to conform.”

“Ugh.” Amy pokes out her tongue like I’ve just said a bad word.

“Oh, come on. I don’t look that bad, do I?” I pull back to check out my clothes.

“You could tone it down a little and still look smoking hot.”

“Maybe you’re right.” I pull a face.

She gives me an adoring smile and passes me another carrot. “You’ll figure out the perfect blend. Don’t worry.”

I snag the carrot and give her a doubtful frown before shoving it in my mouth. Her sweet expression starts to fall and my insides pitch with warning.

“Are you sure you really want this? I mean,
really
sure?”

“You know I am.” My voice is firm.

“I don’t want to fight or anything, but come on, making this year completely epic is not going to change the fact that you need to make a decision.”

My mouth drops open. “You think I’m doing all this to avoid thinking about my future?”

“Yes.”

The air in my throat evaporates and I can’t make a sound as I stare at her honest expression.

“You know I’m right,” she says.

I look away from her and grit my teeth. “I’m doing this because I like him.”

“Winning Colt’s heart is not going to stop the inevitable. You still have to make a decision about what you want to do with your life, whether you have a boyfriend or not.”

My throat feels thick and dry, making it hard to swallow. I shake my head, unable to form any kind of argument as my fears for the future rise and swell. I’ve been trying so hard to forget about the fact that I have no idea what I want to do or be. I’ve applied to Idaho State where my sister is studying, but have no clue what I want to study when I get there. I don’t even know if I want to go to college. Why do we have to make such huge decisions when we have the rest of our lives ahead of us? I like my home, my town. I don’t want to leave it. I don’t want to go into the big wide world and discover that I can’t be anything more than my candle-making mother.

Amy’s hand lands on my arm and gives it a squeeze. “I know you hate hearing this stuff, and I honestly want you to have the best senior year ever, but don’t do this for the wrong reasons. That’s all I’m saying.”

Great. Now I have two mothers.

My smile is so tight it almost hurts, but I force my lips north and murmur a word of thanks. Only a best friend calls you on your crap. I suck in a breath and glance over my shoulder. Colt is sitting next to Mack now, chatting with Roxy. My heart does this big hiccup then relaxes with a swooning sigh.

Maybe some of my reasons aren’t great, but the truth still remains: I think I’m in love with Colt Burgess, and I don’t want that feeling to ever go away.

#12:

Double Threat

Colt

I hate this feeling.

It’s plagued me all my life. I want to run from it, sweat it out of my body, but the truth will always remain the same: I’m a complete dumb-ass.

School is getting harder by the day. I’m doing okay in a couple of subjects, but this massive history assignment is looming and I haven’t even started it yet. It’s too big. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s easier to pretend it doesn’t exist and pour all my energy and focus into football. Surely if I play my best, Coach won’t mind if my grades slide…but it’s not up to Coach. Dammit.

I sprint a little harder, pumping my arms as sweat pours down the side of my face.

“Go, go, go! One more! One more!” Coach Watson yells at us.

I spin and hurtle down the field, determined to reach the end zone before anybody else. I dash across the line and fumble to a stop, bracing my arms on my knees while I suck in a lungful of air. Finn comes to rest beside me, slapping me on the back.

“I don’t know what demons were chasing you today, man, but that was good running.”

A broad smile lights up his face. I raise my chin to acknowledge his praise before standing tall and pacing around the end zone. I wish I could tell him that it doesn’t matter how fast I run; I can’t shake my impending doom.

“All right, guys, good work today.” Coach jogs up to us, the hint of a smile on his wrinkly face. I have no idea how old the guy is. My guess is that his weathered skin and lined face are a result of hours outside, coaching and yelling at his players. “I want to see that kind of energy tomorrow night, Burgess.”

“Yes, Coach!” I’m still pacing, trying to regulate my racing heart. The pounding in my chest won’t ease, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with my fitness and everything to do with the fact I’ve wasted half my allocated assignment time coaching Tori, working on the school work that isn’t so painful, and basically pretending American History doesn’t exist. Come tomorrow, I’ll have one week to research and write a two-thousand-word essay. It’s not going to happen, and then Miss Wilder will flunk me. I’m only just scraping by in my other classes, so my progress report will suck, which means I can kiss the rest of this season goodbye, and potentially Boise State. If the Broncos’ scouts don’t see me play, they’re not going to offer me shit.

My parents would love that.

I grimace, a bitter acid burning my insides.

“Burgess! Back into the huddle. Let’s go!”

I grit my teeth and put on a brave face before spinning and pacing back to the team. I hover behind the offensive line while they stand there listening to Coach Watson go over details for tomorrow night’s game.

“It’s going to be a tough one. We’re playing the Bears.”

A collective groan ripples through the team, and my gaze snaps to Mack. His expression is hard and grim as he takes in the news.

The Bears are from Brownridge, the next town over. They play dirty and are our closest rivals in the division. We beat them into the playoffs last year and they warned us they’d be after blood next time around. I will never forget Quaid Miller ripping into me as I loped off the field. “You’re mine next time, Burgess.”

The venom in his voice riled me, but I didn’t go after him. We’d just won, and I wasn’t about to shit all over it with a fight. I’d bumped into him a couple of times over the summer and he took great pleasure in goading me. Finn had to pull me away one time. The guy’s verbal onslaughts took me right back to elementary school in Seattle. But I wasn’t that sniveling kid anymore, and I would have taken great satisfaction in slugging him and his asshole friend, Derek Wiseman.

I glance at Mack again. His dark eyes are stormy. He and Derek have history. We’re not allowed to talk about it, but I know Mack hates having anything to do with his stepbrother. His mom married Mr. Wiseman the summer I met Mack, and he was in a pretty dark place when it happened. It didn’t help that he was expected to befriend the world’s biggest asshole. Thankfully, Derek lives with his mom in Brownridge, and Mack only has to stomach the guy two weekends a month. I don’t envy him. I hate playing the Bears, and Quaid and Derek are the reasons why.

“We all know they’re our toughest competitors. So I want you to play smart and keep your cool. Finn, you make sure your offensive line protects the backs at all costs. They are not to breach.”

“Yes, Coach!” Finn towers beside me like the freaking Empire State Building. “We got this. Right, boys?”

His line all whoop while Darius shouts, “Hell, yeah! Dem bear cubs ain’t touching our boys.”

We all grin, even Coach. He then turns to the defensive side and gives them a rousing reminder of sacking the quarterback any chance they get and not letting the Bears gain a single yard.

“We’re going to go out there tomorrow night and we’re going to beat them fair, beat them good, and be the best damn team in Idaho.”

“Yeah!” Tyler punches the air and starts chanting, “Raiders! Raiders!”

We all join in…except Mack. I catch his eye and we share a silent look. He nods at me, clenching his jaw and turning for the locker room. The guys follow their captain off the field as we all mentally prepare for one of our toughest games of the season.