Chapter Thirty-Three
–Fletcher–
“Scott,” Coach shouts from his office when I pass by his open door. “Get in here!”
Tanley, who just appeared at my side from the locker room, lifts an eyebrow. I’m frozen outside the door, my heart racing. What does he want with me? Did I screw up in practice this morning? I replay the entire two hours. I did some kick-ass maneuvering around Stewart, but Bakowski didn’t say anything to me about it. He just barked insults at Stewart.
Tate gives me a nudge. “It’s fine, man.”
I shuffle into the small office and stand awkwardly in front of Coach’s desk. Ty is seated in a chair in the corner of the room. He’s the head JV coach, so I’m more skilled at reading his face than Bakowski’s. Ty makes eye contact and nods to the empty chair across from the desk.
I don’t sit until Bakowski barks, “Sit, son.”
My backpack falls to the floor, and my ass falls into the chair. I try not to fidget with my hands. Bakowski stares me down, his fingers drumming on the desk.
“I’ll be frank with you, I wasn’t planning on keeping you on my team after the summer,” he says. My stomach sinks, my face heating up. Seniors can’t play JV, so this means I’m out. “But…”
Ty’s pen freezes in his hand. He exhales at the same moment as I do.
“You’re a scrapper,” Bakowski says. “And you aren’t taking no for an answer. That goes a long way with me.”
I don’t even attempt to mumble thank you, because I still have no idea where this is going.
“The Longmeadow scrimmage game next month is how I pick my lineup. Always,” Coach says. “As of now, I’m tossing Johnson back to JV. He’s young, I figured that would happen but wanted to test the waters. Now it seems we’ve got a space open when the real season starts. If the scrimmage goes well, then maybe…”
I stare at him for a good five seconds before saying, “Wait…so I’m in? For the game?”
“You’re in,” he confirms. “Now let’s see how you do.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod.
Bakowski leans forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. “But you need to keep your personal stuff personal, understood? Longmeadow or any other team in the division gets ahold of that information, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they use it against us. I can’t have that kind of trouble on my team.”
Yeah, I get it. I worry about this every single day of my life.
“Don’t talk about it with the other guys, don’t talk to myself or Ty except in private situations like this one. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes, sir,” I say with another nod.
“Go on.” He waves a hand, dismissing me. “Give Beverly at the rental counter your info. She’ll get you a varsity uniform.”
Still dazed, I head out of the office, and my first thought is to go right to Civics and tell Haley the good news. Except Mrs. Markson canceled our last class. She said we’d covered everything and didn’t need it. Haley’s at cheer practice right next door, I’m sure. But she made it clear that I’m either in her life fully or…not. And I don’t even know how to begin being someone who hangs around town with Haley Stevenson. I can’t give her what she wants.
I walk outside alone—Cole still has Health class today—and head for my car in the near-empty lot. Practically the entire summer thus far, I haven’t been able to avoid having Haley or Jamie pop up in my personal space out of nowhere, making me anxious and on guard. I just didn’t realize how much I’d grown to expect and even enjoy them being around. Makes it a little harder to go back to my old ways.
And then before I can stop myself, I shoot a quick text to Jamie and Leo.
ME: Bakowski gave me a varsity spot for the Longmeadow game
Both guys respond at some point during the ten-minute drive home from practice.
JAMIE: about time
LEO: you earned a spot. Nobody gave you anything.
…
I don’t know exactly why Haley’s at the club tonight. She couldn’t have known I’d be here, because up until twenty minutes ago, I didn’t know I’d be here. I’ve never felt the urge to step through these doors on Manhattan Club nights.
I slide behind a tall guy and prepare to work my way to the door. Haley wouldn’t be too excited to find out that I’m here, considering our last conversation. Plus, she’s brought girlfriends—Claire, Leslie, and Kayla. The last thing I need is Leslie and Kayla telling everyone in town about my job. I glance down at my clothes and remember that I’m not dressed for work—no dress shirt and pants, no heeled ballroom shoes. If any of them spot me, it wouldn’t be social suicide. Tonight is definitely designed for cool people. Yet another reason why I’m never here on Thursdays.
Haley heads over to the bar alone. I keep an eye on her while she orders. My mouth falls open in shock when, after flashing an ID, she receives a tray of shot glasses. I’m about to go over and question this new bartender, but someone taps me on the shoulder.
I spin around, and I’m face-to-face with literally the last person I ever expected to see here—Tate Tanley.
“Dude, what are you doing here?” he says.
“Uh…my brother. He’s a bartender.” My gaze flits to the bar and back to Tanley. “Just finished up his shift. I’m on my way out, too, actually.”
“You’re leaving?” He looks disappointed. “I’m dying here. Claire dragged me. She and Haley have been coming the last few weeks, but she says she’s sick of dancing with girls.”
So, this isn’t Haley’s first Thursday-night club night. “Was that your way of asking me to stick around?”
Tate nods. “Pretty much.”
On the other side of the bar, all four girls down shots, and then they head for the middle of the dance floor, making it even more difficult for them to spot me. It’s weird being here without the stage, without everyone noticing me, just another guy in the club. It’s more like the School Me.
“I’m gonna need a drink for this,” I tell Tate, and we head toward the bar. I order a vodka tonic and hand the bartender one of Braden’s old IDs. Luckily, he doesn’t look too closely, because I don’t resemble my brother at all. I ask Tate what he wants. He shakes his head and holds up a set of keys.
He’s just moved up to martyr status in my book, taking on the job of getting four drunk girls into the car and home later on.
We shift away from the bar and hang back off to the side. Tate just stands there, looking painfully uncomfortable, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He should probably be the one drinking.
“If Jamie and Leo knew I was here, I’d never hear the end of it.”
I stare down at my drink, trying not to laugh. “They might surprise you.”
He gives me a long look like he knows I’m keeping some big secrets. Then he nods toward the dance floor. “You into this?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
I can’t exactly say no. Kinda creepy showing up here alone just to watch. Especially considering that I don’t have a girlfriend who coerced me into being a designated driver.
“Well, I’m not,” he states.
“Which part are you not into?” I take a long drink. “The loud music? Crowded floor? Handsy dudes with exposed chest hair? Or the dancing?”
“Mostly the dancing,” he admits.
But even while he says all this, he’s focused on Claire, probably watching for handsy guys making a move on his girlfriend. We stand there for several minutes not talking. It’s pretty hard to carry on a conversation at this volume. Tate is busy watching the girls, and I’m busy polishing off my drink, trying to decide if I wanna risk helping him a little. Normally I wouldn’t consider it. But I think being at the club—I mean it’s kind of what we do here—makes things a little different.
“This music,” I tell Tate, half shouting now. “It’s either about jumping up and down a lot or being loose. Don’t overthink it.”
He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t help at all.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see Angel in Ricky’s office, the black dry-erase marker we use to update the calendar poised in her hand. She stops when she spots me. I nod for her to come out here.
Soon she’s in front of me, all curious and nosy. I point a finger at Tate, who’s trying to figure out what I’m doing.
“This is one of my teammates,” I tell Angel. “Tate, this is Angel…she’s a friend of my brother’s.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Right. A friend of Braden’s. That I am.”
“Tate’s a dance virgin,” I tell her.
“I’m not—” He protests but then stops, probably wanting to see where I’m going with this.
I turn Angel around so her back is to me. I’m about to show Tate where to put his hands, but she stops me. “Wait…I need to channel my eighteen-year-old self for this music.” I give her a second, and finally she says she’s ready.
“Hands here…” I direct, laying them on Angel’s hips. I give him a few more tips, and Tate listens about as intently as I do when Jamie and Leo are helping me with hockey stuff. This kind of dancing, this music, not exactly my scene, but still, it’s not rocket science.
Angel turns to Tate after our short little demo. “See? It’s easy. Now which girl do you have your eye on? I can feel out the situation for you.”
“That would be the tall redhead in the center,” I answer for Tate. “His girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?” Angel says, and then she gives Tate her most warm smile, the motherly one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. She already likes you. Effort goes a long way.”
Claire looks over this way, goading Tate with her eyes. I give him a shove in that direction, and he surprises me by walking straight over there, no hesitation. Angel and I lean against the wall, watching him and Claire dance together. Claire is smiling a lot, and Tate surprisingly shows no signs of being rhythmically challenged.
I hold a hand out to Angel, and she slaps me a low five. “Nice work, partner.”
“What would the world do without us?”
Angel goes back into Ricky’s office, and I stay in my spot, my gaze glued to Haley in her short pink dress with lip gloss to match. Her hair is down and flowing everywhere in a sexy, I just had a hot make-out session way. My pulse quickens just thinking the word make-out with Haley in sight. Soon, I’m pushing off the wall, heading in her direction. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though it was me who turned her down a couple of weeks ago. But Tate would have outed me anyway, right?
She sees me when I’m still a few feet away, and the smile drops from her face. I almost disappear back into the crowd, because that isn’t the reaction I’d been hoping for. But who am I kidding? She doesn’t owe me any reaction at all.
But then she’s right in front of me, arms crossed, eyebrows lifted. “How did you know I was here?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t. Tate caught me leaving and asked me to hang out.”
For a long moment, we look at each other, both of us trying to decide how this will go. Finally, Haley wraps her fingers around my shirt and tugs me toward her little crew. She gives me this stare from over her shoulder, rolls her eyes, and says, “Same old Fletch, huh?”
Same old Fletch. Unwilling. Being dragged into Haley’s life. That thought sits heavily in the pit of my stomach, and suddenly I don’t give a fuck about her friends watching. Or Tanley being here.
I reach for her, drag her body against mine, feel her breath catch, her mouth fall open in surprise. But she doesn’t stop me. The music gets faster, louder, like it’s inside me and all around. I stop thinking about eight counts and posture and downbeats. Haley molds herself to me, and we easily move together. I press my face into her hair, inhale. Her hands are everywhere—sliding over my chest, my back, under my shirt.
Soon I’m consumed by thoughts of the last conversation we had, Haley saying I didn’t even have the balls to kiss her. She’s the one who did it first. She’s right. And now all I can think about is proving her wrong. I step out of her hold, grasp her hand, and head her off the dance floor.
Normally, I’d never pull a girl away from her friends or take her somewhere alone without asking first. But with Haley, I don’t have to ask. I simply think the question, and I can feel her answer.
My heart is pounding, my thoughts in a haze, as I lead her through the dark backstage and fumble around for the dressing-room doorknob. And then I fling it open, tug her inside, and press her against the door. The music is faint in the background. Even in the dark, I see her chest rise and fall with rapid speed.
You’ve never even kissed me, Fletch. You won’t do it. You won’t put yourself out there.
We both take a quick breath together, our hearts pounding in the dark. And then I lift her off the ground, her dress hiking up, her legs wrapping around me. Maybe I haven’t made the first move before, but I sure as hell have imagined it.