I’d started to freak the fuck out when my feelings for Zoey started to change. I couldn’t control the things I started thinking about her. We’d been friends for so long.
I’ll never forget that day. I close my eyes and remember the look on her face when she tried to sit next to me. The words that came out of my mouth haunt me every single day of my life. I sit up quickly, not wanting to think about it again. But it doesn’t work. The memory of me telling her to get lost plays over and over in my head.
And she did exactly as I said. She stayed the hell away from me. I rub the area over my heart, hoping the ache I always feel when I think about what happened with her will go away. The only thing that makes me feel better is knowing that I’ll have her for another four years at least. I’m not sure I can keep going on like this. I also know that college is a whole new playing field. It will be too fucking big for me to make sure that fuckheads stay the hell away from my girl. Because she is my girl. Always has been and always will be.
“Fuck off,” I tell him. “Are you going to the party tonight?”
Jackson shrugs, not caring if we do or don’t go. I lie there waiting to hear other sounds from next door. When I hear a car pull into the driveway, I start to get up but stop when I hear the garage door open, knowing her mom is home. I’m on edge. It’s the same way every time she goes out.
“I think we should get out of here for your own sanity,” Jackson says, looking up from his phone.
“Let’s eat,” I agree. I grab the keys to the truck, making sure I lock the house up behind me, not sure when my pops will be back. His work hours can be all over the place. He owns a mechanic shop. I help out from time to time, but he’s always riding my ass about my grades, saying that school is where my mind should be. I shouldn’t get mad because I know he does it because he wants a better future for me.
He’s likely right, but my mind is always on two things, and those are Zoey and football. Part of me working so hard at football was for Zoey. I figured that if I went all the way to the NFL that our lives would be made. I’m always planning ahead for our future.
Even though Zoey doesn't spare me a glance anymore. Her best friend Willow looks at me like I’m something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That’s on a good day. On others she looks at me as if she wants to murder me. It doesn’t upset me in the least. It makes me happy knowing that Zoey has such a good friend.
We drive toward the square. There are a handful of places to eat there. When I spot Willow’s car, I park a few spaces away from it.
“Fucking hell,” Jackson mutters, knowing exactly what I’m doing. I’m torturing myself. I’m a masochist. I want to look at her. I want to know what she’s doing. I can’t help it.
Thing is it’s getting worse by the second. With football I had somewhere to take my aggression out. Right now, I feel as though I’m a caged beast, and there is only one thing that will calm me.
Zoey Hawthorne.3ZoeyI snap a picture of Willow as she takes a bite of her burger. She doesn’t say anything, used to me always snapping random pictures.
We split a cheeseburger and make sure we get an extra order of fries. The Burger House’s burgers are the size of my head. I’m already digging into mine when I see Reid push in the front door. The place isn't packed, so it’s not as if he’s not going to see us.
The hostess puffs out her chest, wanting to show Reid and Jackson what she has to offer as she talks to them. A few moments later they are sitting in a booth behind me. My back is to Reid. Just freaking great. I put my burger down, losing my appetite.
My stomach grows tight. Or maybe it’s all of me that tenses up. Willow fills the air with chatter, trying to distract me. I know what she’s doing. She’s making it seem as though we don’t notice they are even there.
She even goes as far as ordering us apple pie like we aren’t in a hurry to get out of there. When the server starts to head back to our booth with the pie, Reid stands.
“That’s peach, not apple,” I hear him say, blocking the server from me with his broad body when I turn to look.