Chapter Seven
1263 Words
“Ugh, I don’t want to be here,” I whine as Maya drags me along to the bleachers.
The last thing I want to do, after Tyler all but threatened me, is watch him practice. But my best friend doesn’t take no for an answer.
“You’re always holed up in the art studio; you need exposure to sunlight,” Maya declares as she leads me up three rows, dropping her bag at our feet.
Rolling my eyes, I take my seat on the warm plank. “That’s because painting keeps me sane. This…” I wave at the chaos below. “… does not.”
Helmets flash beneath the stadium lights, and the team is already running drills with Coach Harris’ voice thundering across the field.
My eyes flick to the time on my phone. 4:12 p.m. “I shouldn’t stay long,” I say. “The twins have drama rehearsal today, but what if it ends early?”
“It won’t,” Maya waves me off. “It’s their first rehearsal, right? They’ll be stuck there forever. Didn’t you say you asked their driver to give you a call once he drops them off at home?”
“Yes, but…”
“They’re fine, Lil. Sit back and experience school spirit.”
Reluctantly, I lean into the metal bench. Down below, whistles pierce the air, and I see him.
Tyler stands apart from the rest of the team, his helmet tucked beneath his arm, with the number “one” displayed boldly on his jersey. Even from this distance, I can feel the confidence oozing from him.
Thankfully, we haven’t had any more encounters for two days now. I’ve painstakingly avoided him at school and he’s gone back to staying upstairs whenever I’m at the house.
Maya leans forward. “God, Alex looks good.”
“No, he do…” I start to say, then whip my head sharply to the side. “Did you just say Alex?”
“Hm?” She mutters absentmindedly.
“You said Alex,” I repeat, suspicion clear in my tone. “Since when do you think Tyler’s best friend is hot?”
“I said he looks good, not hot,” she retorts, barely containing her smile.
“Answer my question.”
“Shh,” she taps me gently. “The game is starting,” she says, then proceeds to keep her gaze forward. But the redness of her cheeks betrays her.
I narrow my eyes and look ahead just in time to see the offense line up.
Tyler steps behind the center, claps once, and the ball snaps into his hands. My eyes track his movement as he dodges a tackle before launching the ball in a clean, spiral downfield.
Damn, he’s fast. And I hate that I notice how good he is.
It lands perfectly in the wide receiver’s hand, who so happens to be Alex. Cheers ripple through the bleachers and I look around to see that Maya and I are no longer alone.
I roll my eyes, even though deep down, I can’t deny that it was impressive.
They reset, but this time Tyler doesn’t pass. He keeps the ball, cutting left, then right, until he’s barreling straight through a defensive player instead of sliding. Their collision reverberates through the field.
“Jesus,” Maya breathes.
A whistle shrieks. “Brooks,” Coach Harris yells, and Tyler slows, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. “You trying to kill someone out here?” Coach booms, storming towards him. “This is practice! You do not lower your shoulders like that here.”
Tyler shrugs. “I’m just playing football.”
“Well you better start playing with discipline or I’m kicking you off my field.” Coach scowls. “Now run it again, and keep your head this time.”
People start to murmur around us. And I really shouldn’t care, but when Tyler lines up again, there’s a difference in the way he sets his feet, all coiled and heavy, and the confidence from earlier is just plain arrogance now.
The ball snaps, and he dodges one defender. But he’s too focused on getting ahead that he doesn’t notice another barreling in from his right. He takes a harder hit to his shoulder at the same time he throws, but the pass sails too high and falls flat.
Coach calls Jake in next, and the difference between the two couldn’t be more obvious.
Jake moves with calculation, calmly calling the play. He fakes a move to the right, then pivots at the very last minute, and sends the ball straight down the seam.
Touchdown.
The sideline erupts, just as everyone on the bleachers, including Maya, jump to their feet in celebration. But I remain seated, watching as Jake ignores some of the players pounding on his helmet from excitement and heads straight for Tyler.
He whispers something low as he jogs past Tyler, whose hand shoots out, grabbing Jake’s shoulder pad.
My pulse spikes as they stand nose to nose. None of us can hear the words being exchanged but from the way Tyler’s jaw flexes and Jake smirks, I know it can’t be anything good.
For a brief second, it looks like Tyler might swing. But Coach steps in between them just in time, shoving them apart.
“Both of you, sidelines. Now.”
A hush settles over the bleachers as Tyler rips his helmet off, storming off first. Jake follows slowly, a smug expression on his face.
Then, to my utter disbelief, Alex turn right in my direction and… waves.
“What the hell?” I turn to Maya, who hastily drops her hand, but not before I catch her waving back.
She must feel my eyes on her because she turns to me, guilt evident in her eyes.
“Explain yourself.”
She groans, dropping to her seat. “He joined the music band last week and we’ve been talking, okay? He asked me to come watch him at practice today, and…. Did you know he plays the violin? He’s really good too,” she beams.
My jaw drops in horror. “Oh my god, you have a crush on him.”
Maya turns beet red. “No,” she yells, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. “We’re just friends.”
I smirk, turning to look at the field. “Then you wouldn’t mind that he’scurrently flirting with the girl handing out water on the sidelines.”
Maya practically jumps out of her seat. “What?! Where?”
Laughter bubbles out of my mouth, and I almost tip over from it. “Sorry,” I gasp, struggling to catch my breath, while Maya scowls at me.
“Fine, I have a crush on him,” Maya says as she drops back to her seat.
I immediately sober up. “Jesus, Maya. You should know better.”
“But he’s not like the others,” she laughs.
I laugh without an ounce of amusement. “He’s Tyler’s best friend. Trust me, he’s just like the rest of them.” I sigh when she looks deflated. “I know you think you have feelings for him, but you don’t know him, Maya. You don’t know any of them.”
I turn back to the field, and Tyler’s threats echo in my mind. “Stay away from that crowd, Maya,” I warn, and hope to God that she listens.
Because something tells me getting involved in Tyler Brooks’ world never ends well.
- Writer
