Just Me (9 page)

“
Do you guys play shirts against skins?” I asked.

“
Yeah, why?”

“
Please make sure you're a skin.”

His chuckle rumbled through him. He kissed my forehead. “For you, anything.”

***

As I watched practice, I realized Bastian was good, in fact, he was really good. Why wasn't he pursuing a career in soccer? Was soccer not an acceptable occupation in the world according to Mr. Ross? It was baffling, how the Rosses saw their son. Ignoring his obvious attributes, he was exceedingly bright, breezing easily through his honors and AP classes. Whether he was talking to guys on his soccer team or members of the faculty, he was equally comfortable with both. What he could do with a car was as impressive as it was enviable. And to top all of that, he was just a really good guy. How anyone could look at him and see anything but perfection just pissed me off. And more, the fact that he didn't allow it to get to him—the neglect at home—and could live his life despite having to do so on his own, showed his incredible strength of character. It was just one more reason why I was so completely drawn to him.

Kira and a few other Cheers were on the sidelines, drooling shamelessly, but they tried to camouflage their lusting behind a weak attempt at cheerleading practice. I wanted to call over to them and say they weren't fooling anyone, but then I was ogling too.

A few times Kira actually engaged Bastian in conversation despite the coach shooing her away, and even from my distance, I could tell there was an easiness about the exchange which I guess would happen when you'd practically grown up with someone. I wondered what he was like at six or ten, or fourteen? Was he always as confident as he was now? Did he always have such a strong sense of who he was?

My thoughts turned to the scholarship. I was going to take it; I’d known it as soon as Ms. Whitney mentioned it, but I hated that I was going to lose that time with Bastian. We had only just started dating and I wanted as much time with him as possible.

I pulled myself from my thoughts when I saw that the team was getting ready to call it quits. Bastian looked seriously overheated. I had spied the cooler earlier, had watched as the team's manager filled several coolers with icy cold water. I stood and made my way over to him.

His hair was pulled back from his face with a bandana and his muscles were all flexed and hard from the exercise. When he saw me, he separated from his team and started toward me in that most excellent swagger of his. I asked when he was just in front of me, “Thirsty?”

“
Yeah, thanks.”

He reached for the cooler, but I was faster. I lifted it up and dumped the entire contents over his head. I dropped the cooler and ran. I got a few seconds head start, but I could have had a few minutes head start, and it wouldn't have made a difference.

He moved with the speed of a cheetah, those strong, inked and extremely wet arms wrapping around my waist. He hauled me back to press me against his very wet body. “Brat.”

I was laughing too hard to reply until he kissed my neck, right in the spot that caused those delicious little chills. My body went boneless and his grew harder. He seemed to realize where we were and loosened his hold.

He pressed his lips to my ear. “I can't get enough of you.”

A shiver went through me that had nothing to do with being cold. “That makes two of us.”

He lowered me to my feet and I wasted no time turning to face him, because the boy was shirtless, wet and sexy as hell. I liked the bandana especially with the tats. Yeah, he was magnificent.

“
What are you thinking?” He asked.

“
You should dress like that more often.”

“
In private, for you? Anytime.”

Well, hell, I might just swoon right here on the soccer field. I grew exceedingly hot under my suddenly constricting clothing.

“
You look flustered.” He said.

“
I'm suddenly very warm.”

“
Really? I'd offer you some water, but...”

“
I'll take being parched, because the visual of you getting doused with water is already stored in my happy place.”

“
Happy place?” He asked.

“
Where all my good memories go. I don't have many, but the ones I have are perfect.”

He linked our fingers and a tender smile touched his lips. “I hope I fill your happy place with memories.”

“
You're doing really good so far.”

His hold on my hand tightened and though he didn't say anything, I had a feeling he was thinking a great deal. “I should get you home.” He said. “But Lark?”

I looked up into those eyes and saw mischief brewing. “What?”

“
Paybacks are a bitch.”

After school one day, Bastian took me to the local diner for dinner. Once we were seated across from each other, the waitress, Peggy, came over to take our order and as she walked away, I wondered if her red hair was natural.

Bastian's attention was on me when my focus turned back to him. He seemed a bit off—distracted might be a better word. “What's wrong?”

He fiddled with his fork, but when I asked this, his fingers stilled. He glanced up at me. “My birthday is coming up, which means I'm required to go to the club with my parents for dinner.” Another hesitation before he added, “I know it's sort of sudden, but any chance you'll come with me?”

“
When's your birthday?”

“
October 6th.”

“
Good to know. What's the club?”

“
Pearl River Country Club.”

Ostentatious was the word that came to mind in regards to the club and certainly not the place I would picture Bastian. “And you want me to have dinner with you and your parents there?”

He didn't answer with words, but then his direct and searching gaze was answer enough. I couldn't lie—I was thrilled that he wanted me with him. The heady sensation didn't last for long though because the thought of meeting his parents terrified me. “When?” I asked warily.

“
In two weeks.” He reached across the table for my hand, “What's wrong?”

“
I've never met parents before and I suspect that yours aren't going to like me.”

“
Why do you say that?”

“
Because they're pro-Kira.”

“
Pro-Kira’s parents, not so much Kira.”

“
Well, my aunt and uncle are middle-class. My mom was a drug-using alcoholic, so I'm guessing I'm way down on their list of eligible ladies.”

“
Do you really care, Lark?”

I cared how I would become one more thing in his life that they'd find unacceptable, particularly since we were just getting to know each other. “I care how being with me will come back on you. Maybe you should take Kira.”

“
I'll take you or I'll go alone.” The belligerence in his tone made me cave. He was adorable when grumpy.

“
Okay, I'll go with you.”

Surprise flashed over his face in response. “Are you sure?”

“
Yes.”

The smile that took over his entire face formed his only reply.

All through dinner, I tried not to worry about meeting his parents and failed. Bastian, sensing my mood, reached across the table for my hand again. “Are you okay?”

“
Yeah.” I tried for a smile but it wasn't a very convincing one.

Bastian knew where my thoughts were when he said, “It's just dinner. The rest doesn't matter. They don't matter.”

I wanted to believe that but I had a terrible feeling that we were going to be over before we ever really had a chance to get started.

***

Pep rally. Two small and innocuous words, but at my school, pep rallies were anything but. The coach of the football team, Coach Farlay, had taken the concept of school spirit and turned it into something very similar to the pagan rituals I imagined the gods performed in the days of old. No one died during these heathen gatherings of the student body, but someone was always sacrificed. In truth, it was the coach's wife who was behind the theatrics of the pep rally. She trained as a thespian, but when her dream of Broadway didn't pan out, she pursued her second passion, teaching. Through the years she managed to take over directing the school's musicals. Clearly it wasn't just the musicals she had an influence over.

The football team selected one unsuspecting female from the audience and she became Victory. She was dragged from the bleachers and a football jersey pulled over her head before being lifted into the air by the football team to the cheers and chants of the entire school. That wasn't all, oh no. Then a boy was selected as the Guardian of Victory. They were handcuffed together—this was really just symbolic since the handcuffs didn't require a key which made it easy for Victory and her Guardian to separate when nature called—and for the rest of the day Victory and her Guardian had to go to one another's classes. As her last act of school spirit, on the night of the game, Victory led the football team out onto the field. In all honesty, the student body loved the entire practice and most were eager to be Victory or her Guardian. I, however, was not a fan. Although I did love that it was all so left of center, and that it wasn't just the students but also the administration who ate it up.

I had somehow managed in my high school career to avoid ever being Victory—yet another benefit of blending into the woodwork. So there I sat, continuing to blend into my surroundings, sinking just a little bit lower on the bleachers to avoid eye contact with every person on the gym floor.

“
This is so exciting. I hope they pick me.” Sophia was practically jumping up and down.

“
Sophia, stop drawing attention.”

“
It's all in good fun. It wouldn't hurt for you to be Victory just once.”

“
I'd rather have back surgery.”

As I sat there wondering just how painful back surgery was, I felt a warmth shimmy down my spine and looked up to see Bastian making his way up the bleachers to me. What the hell was he doing? Not that I wasn't happy to see him, especially since he was coming to sit with me, but he was drawing attention which made my attempts at invisibility moot.

“
Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing?”

He only answered by grinning. Coach Farlay's voice echoed throughout the gym.

“
It's time to pick Victory!”

Everyone launched to their feet, screaming like they were being murdered, while I tried to sink even lower. I felt Bastian's hand wrap around mine and at first I felt a wave of warmth over the gesture until a moment of clarity filled me. He wouldn’t. I tried to pull my hand from his, but couldn't. My gaze flew up only to see him smiling down at me like a lunatic.

“
What are you doing?”

He leaned over so that our mouths were almost touching. “Payback, Victory.”

“
But how? You aren't even on the football team.”

“
No, but several of the guys on the team owed me a favor. I cashed in.”

“
You're new. How could they possibly already owe you a favor?”

No reply, but he looked really pleased with himself.

“
Not fair!” I tried to dig in my heels, but Bastian had almost a foot and a hundred pounds on me. He started dragging me down the bleachers to Coach Farlay, while I plotted his murder: something painful and bloody and slow.

There I stood, next to Coach Farlay, as the gym went berserk. I glanced at Bastian who looked downright diabolical. “I'm going to cut you up into very small pieces.”

He leaned over so our eyes met. “Do your worst.”

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Moments later, a jersey was being pulled over my head seconds before I was lifted off the ground. This mortification had me rethinking Bastian's death. Death was too easy. No, I was going to chain him in a dungeon and torture him for the rest of his natural-born life. Yes, that sounded perfect.

When my feet finally hit the floor, I was ready to dart for the closest exit. I felt the handcuffs click closed over our wrists. All of a sudden, an entirely different emotion filled me at the sight of being tied to this boy. Despite the humor I saw burning in his eyes, I saw something else infinitely more exciting.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “We get to spend all day together.”

And just like that, I didn't mind at all being Victory.

After the assembly, Bastian and I were nearly the last to leave, but before we did, Brad, the captain and quarterback of the football team, joined us.

“
Thanks for being Victory.”

“
I didn't really have a choice, but you're welcome,” I said.

“
I'd love to know what you did to him that this was your payback.”

“
It was nothing as drastic as this, but I'm already planning my revenge.”

“
Sweet. See you guys tonight.”

Bastian's voice grabbed my attention. “Our paybacks are like a snow boulder picking up speed downhill.” The hand that wasn't linked to mine reached out to touch my cheek. “I look forward to your next move.”

I smiled sweetly, but said nothing.

“
So, Victory, whose class should we go to now?”