Chapter Thirty-Four
Tyler
What the hell happened? Couldn’t she see what I was about to tell her? She just stomped on my heart and threw it back at me like, “Eh. Here you go.”
She wouldn’t even let me explain. Don’t bother coming over to her house? Well, I’m sorry, but Princess Layla is going to see I don’t give up that easy. I don’t care if it ticks her off either.
I drive to the field and suit up in my practice gear. I’m in a mood. A very bad one. Most of the guys can tell too, because not one of them has said a word to me. They fan out when I approach the water cooler, or after a play, and in the huddle, I notice some of them are practically jumping on Jared’s helmet so they don’t have to stand by me.
“All right, that’s it! What is going on with you?” Jared bellows at me from the huddle.
“Nothing!” I’ve never gone to blows with Jared but I’m about to.
He takes off his helmet and slams it to the ground. I do the same and then he charges me. Our pads press against each other and he yells, “What’s up with you today? We’re a freaking team, Ty! Act like it! You just plowed right into James here like an effing truck and there isn’t any need for it.”
“He was in my running lane.”
“Oh, so we just take out our teammates. It’s practice, dude. Find another route. We can’t afford to be busting up our own guys!”
I shove him. “Get out of my face.”
“I’ll get in your damn face if I want to. Settle down or go sit down!”
“You’re not the coach! You’re just his son. That doesn’t make you the damn boss, Black.”
I feel arms wrap around my shoulders, jerking me back. I see some of the guys containing Jared. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. Well, I take that back. I know exactly what’s pissing me off: that damn shit Layla said. We’re not even friends. The hell we weren’t. What the hell have I been doing over at her house for the past few days? Why would I offer to pick her up or take her home? If we weren’t friends, why would I help her with her math problems every day? It’s bullshit!
“That’s enough you two. You got energy to kill someone, go run it off! Ten laps around the entire field. And if that doesn’t straighten you two out you’ll be running the stadium stairs. Got me?” Coach Black bellows at us.
Jared glares at me and shakes his head. “Thanks. You’re a real awesome best friend!”
I bow my head and begin my laps. Damn Layla is screwing with my head. Football is the one place I’m in complete control. I don’t have to act a certain way. I don’t have to pretend or fake a smile and act like everything in my life is perfect. That is, until today. I no longer feel in control and it’s costing me big time. My best friend thinks I’m a total asshole and probably wants to strangle me. I need to snip the strings on this Layla shit and move on. This is not worth the trouble it’s already causing.
Jared and I are neck-in-neck on the first lap and I’m breathing pretty easy. “Hey man, I’m sorry. I just lost it back there.”
“Whatever man. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you lately,” Jared puffs.
“Layla. Okay? I have a freaking thing for Layla.”
He falters a bit. “Valentine? Are you kidding me?” I don’t say anything. “Oh, that’s just rich, man. You know you can’t go after her.” We round a corner, and before I can ask why the hell not, he says, “Jesus dude, we’re trying to keep unity on the field. How do you think Adam is going to feel when he gets wind you want his ex?”
“Screw Adam. He shouldn’t have cheated on her.”
Jared laughs and my anger returns. What the hell is so funny? I contemplate shoving his ass right into the railings. “You do realize how hilarious this is, right?” He’s still chuckling. I don’t find this funny. “A month ago, you couldn’t stand her. I had to beg you to give her a ride back to school.” This is very true. “You were okay with her walking back. You do remember that, don’t you? Now you’ve got a huge thing for her? What the hell changed?”
I stop jogging and he stops too. “Come on. We have to keep going or my dad is going to make us run stairs,” he says.
“She’s the girl I’ve been texting.”
“Hold on. Does she know?”
I shake my head. “Don’t tell anyone.” I start jogging again. “All these pieces started adding up, and I don’t know man. The more I texted her, the more I started to like her.”
Jared doesn’t say anything; so, I continue. “But she blew me off before the start of practice. It’s like she’s back to her ice queen ways and I can’t stand it.”
“Just tell her.”
I laugh. “That will go over real fantastic. ‘Hey Layla, call me some time, I think we should go see a movie or something. Oh, you want my number? You already have it, babe.’” I cringe. “She’ll probably punch me in the face and call me every name in the book.” Even as I analyze all the worst possible scenarios I realize I sound like a lovesick chick. Shit!
I can see Jared biting back a laugh and I actually don’t blame him. I’m freaking pathetic. “So … basically either way you’re screwed.” We slow down on our last set of laps. “You can’t text her because she’ll hate you. You can’t confront her because she’ll freak out.” We pass the goal post on the opposite end. Jared pants out, “And Adam will be even worse than he is now. You can’t stop texting her entirely either, because chances are she’ll figure out it was you then she’ll really hate you. Either way you are screwed.” He shakes his head. “I told you this would blow up in your face eventually.”
“I know!” I yell at him as we finish our sixth lap. “Now you get it.”
“No. Now you are getting a taste of what I’m going through. Because the only way this gets really shitty is watching her fall for someone who isn’t you.”
That won’t happen. “I just have to cut ties.”
“That’s one step. You won’t feel better though.” We’re jogging the straightaway past the home side benches. “Then you’ll see her move on and you’ll take a backseat if you aren’t doing the same.”
“Are you done?”
“No. It’s only going to get worse from there, man.”
We make another lap and I’m getting tired. “Why does it have to get worse?”
“Because you’re going to be stuck in the same bullshit bubble that I’m in. There will be so many times you’ll want to tell her and show her how happy you could make her.” I almost yell back ‘we won’t be the same.’ I’ll eventually tell Layla how I feel. “But you can’t without destroying her first and it kills you. In your situation there is no Mark, just you and your texting secret identity.”
Damn. Maybe there was a little more holding Jared back than I realized. But he hasn’t killed Mark yet. Doesn’t that mean he’s holding himself together a little better than he thinks? There has to be some sort of trick. Because if she screwed me up this much by just blowing me off without letting me get a word in edgewise, making me so mad I can’t think straight, how the hell am I going to handle her finding someone else? I’ll explode.
My thoughts must be all over my face because Jared says, “Yeah, it totally sucks.”
“How the hell do you not kill him every day?”
He makes a noncommittal grunt. “Don’t know. Focusing on football. Keeping busy. Trying to avoid being around them as much as possible. It’s hard not to lay him out every day on the field, or drill him with the football so hard he ends up unconscious.”
“I’m sorry.”
We’re finishing up our last lap. “Me too. Keep your head in the game.”
“How much shit are you going to get at home over this?” I ask with a frown.
“A lot.”
I figured I needed to take on some of the punishment since this is technically my fault Jared’s in deep water. We’re currently in his backyard busting our asses doing drills through the obstacle course his dad has set up. Seriously, this shit looks like something from a movie about people training to be Marines or something. Pretty much the only thing we don’t have to do is crawl through a mud pit.
We do have to run between sets of tires, around some cones, and carry the football through these thickly padded steel poles set so close together you can barely get past in full gear. We should though, and we need to do it without dropping the ball. I fail three times.
Jared doesn’t. I have a feeling he’s run this crazy shit twenty times a day, every day, since eighth grade. By the time we’re done, I almost pass out on the lawn. How the heck does Jared put up with this crap after practice and still manage homework? I’m about dead.
Jared has sweat dripping off the tips of his hair and nose. “You all right down there?” He asks with a grin.
How the hell can he possibly be smiling at a time like this? “No man. I might need a stretcher to haul me out of here.”
“Thanks. For doing the drills with me.”
“You do this shit every night, don’t you?”
“It’s not so bad once you get through it a few times.”
“He’s insane. You do realize that?” I ask, glancing back at his dad to make sure he’s out of earshot.
Jared frowns. “Comes with the territory I guess.”
“Boys! Time to come in,” Coach Black yells.
I push off the ground and follow Jared into the house. “Wash up for dinner,” Mrs. Black says. “Tyler, are you staying?”
“No, ma’am. I have to get home to my homework. Thanks for asking though.”
“You’re always welcome,” she says with a pearly smile.
I leave the house feeling exhausted and guilty as hell. I knew Jared was pushed hard by his dad. Hell; sometimes his dad would get shitty if Jared was staying over my house. I thought it was because he thought I was a delinquent or something. No wonder Jared never asked Juliet out where would he even find the time to take her out? Not with his dad monopolizing like this every day.
When I finally pull into my own driveway I slide my phone out and sigh. “Here goes nothing.”
Me: Would u b my d8 2 my school’s winter formal?
Layla doesn’t respond right away. It’s too late to take back the message. Crap. I should have eased into this. Damn it. I just blew it.