blondies, doughnut holes. More dessert than one person could eat in a week. A big yellow card was propped on the shelf with my books.
Jake Graydon kicks! Good luck in the game tonight, Tiger! Your backslapper, Ally.
For some reason, my palms were sweating. I couldn’t believe she’d done this. That she’d gone all out like this. It must have cost her a fortune and she’d done it all for me. The girls were going to shit. Hammond was going to shit .
“You like it?”
I turned around. Ally stood in the center of the hall in a tight maroon T-shirt and denim skirt. And she was giving me the eye. I knew it. I knew she wanted me. Maybe that bitchy act the first day of school had just been a reaction to Shale’s party. But now . . . I looked her up and down. It was like a whole new her.
“It’s awesome,” I said, placing the card back in the locker and slamming the door shut.
“Cool,” she said. And smiled. “I spent my entire paycheck on it. And I baked all that stuff myself. It did not come from Costco.”
I glanced toward the back of the school. “Do you wanna go and, like, talk or something?”
A little wrinkle popped up over her nose. “Um, sure.”
“Come on.”
We walked down the hall and out the back door. No one was around. I nudged her arm and pressed her up against the wall.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Thanking you,” I said.
I was half a millimeter from her lips when she ducked away. My forehead hit the rough brick wall.
“Ow! Fuck.” I brought my fingertips to my scratched skull.
“What the hell?” she spat. “God! Maybe whoever was your backslapper last year slapped more than your back, but I was just doing my job.”
My heart felt sick as my brain tried to catch up. “But I thought—”
“What? That because I went all out on your locker that I was, like, in love with you or something?” Ally said, looking me up and down in disgust. “Get over yourself.” She yanked open the door and strode inside. The slam made my head throb even worse.
I leaned back against the wall and touched the bump above my nose again, checking my fingertips for blood. There wasn’t any. “Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath, kicking at the ground.
So much for that.
ally
“Graydon! Get off the field! Now!”
Jake cursed under his breath and stormed past Coach Martz. I flushed with heat as he passed me by, his eyes on his muddy cleats, sweat soaking his hair and the collar of his shirt. He shrugged Shannen off as she made a move for him and slammed his open hand into a stack of paper cups on the water table, sending them flying. I swallowed hard and clutched my own arms.
It was the third match of the year, and the team’s top scorer, Jake Graydon, was not on his game.
“Ally,” Trista sang in my ear. “It’s about time for you to start acting like a backslapper.”
In the first two games I hadn’t so much as talked to Jake, let alone slapped his admittedly sexy back, and Trista had definitely noticed. I wondered if she’d still be on my case if I told her that he tried to maul me behind the school on the morning of the first game. Jackass.
“Drake! Sub in for Graydon!” Coach shouted.
My heart leapt.
“Seriously?” David said, popping up off the bench.
“No. I’m practicing my stand-up routine,” Coach spat. “Yes, seriously! Sub in!”
“Go, David!” I shouted, slapping his shoulder as he jogged by.
“Yeah, David! Kick ass!” Annie screeched from the bleachers.
We shared a smile before she got back to taking Crestie behavioral notes on her laptop. David hadn’t seen much game time before, and never in the first half. Now he was biting back a grin as he took the field.
“That’s great, Ally, but I didn’t mean for him,” Trista said, nudging my elbow. “Jake is your responsibility. Go! Pep talk the boy!”
She practically shoved me toward the bench. Jake sat at the end, his elbows pressed into his thighs, his hands clenched into fists
Jake Graydon kicks! Good luck in the game tonight, Tiger! Your backslapper, Ally.
For some reason, my palms were sweating. I couldn’t believe she’d done this. That she’d gone all out like this. It must have cost her a fortune and she’d done it all for me. The girls were going to shit. Hammond was going to shit .
“You like it?”
I turned around. Ally stood in the center of the hall in a tight maroon T-shirt and denim skirt. And she was giving me the eye. I knew it. I knew she wanted me. Maybe that bitchy act the first day of school had just been a reaction to Shale’s party. But now . . . I looked her up and down. It was like a whole new her.
“It’s awesome,” I said, placing the card back in the locker and slamming the door shut.
“Cool,” she said. And smiled. “I spent my entire paycheck on it. And I baked all that stuff myself. It did not come from Costco.”
I glanced toward the back of the school. “Do you wanna go and, like, talk or something?”
A little wrinkle popped up over her nose. “Um, sure.”
“Come on.”
We walked down the hall and out the back door. No one was around. I nudged her arm and pressed her up against the wall.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Thanking you,” I said.
I was half a millimeter from her lips when she ducked away. My forehead hit the rough brick wall.
“Ow! Fuck.” I brought my fingertips to my scratched skull.
“What the hell?” she spat. “God! Maybe whoever was your backslapper last year slapped more than your back, but I was just doing my job.”
My heart felt sick as my brain tried to catch up. “But I thought—”
“What? That because I went all out on your locker that I was, like, in love with you or something?” Ally said, looking me up and down in disgust. “Get over yourself.” She yanked open the door and strode inside. The slam made my head throb even worse.
I leaned back against the wall and touched the bump above my nose again, checking my fingertips for blood. There wasn’t any. “Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath, kicking at the ground.
So much for that.
ally
“Graydon! Get off the field! Now!”
Jake cursed under his breath and stormed past Coach Martz. I flushed with heat as he passed me by, his eyes on his muddy cleats, sweat soaking his hair and the collar of his shirt. He shrugged Shannen off as she made a move for him and slammed his open hand into a stack of paper cups on the water table, sending them flying. I swallowed hard and clutched my own arms.
It was the third match of the year, and the team’s top scorer, Jake Graydon, was not on his game.
“Ally,” Trista sang in my ear. “It’s about time for you to start acting like a backslapper.”
In the first two games I hadn’t so much as talked to Jake, let alone slapped his admittedly sexy back, and Trista had definitely noticed. I wondered if she’d still be on my case if I told her that he tried to maul me behind the school on the morning of the first game. Jackass.
“Drake! Sub in for Graydon!” Coach shouted.
My heart leapt.
“Seriously?” David said, popping up off the bench.
“No. I’m practicing my stand-up routine,” Coach spat. “Yes, seriously! Sub in!”
“Go, David!” I shouted, slapping his shoulder as he jogged by.
“Yeah, David! Kick ass!” Annie screeched from the bleachers.
We shared a smile before she got back to taking Crestie behavioral notes on her laptop. David hadn’t seen much game time before, and never in the first half. Now he was biting back a grin as he took the field.
“That’s great, Ally, but I didn’t mean for him,” Trista said, nudging my elbow. “Jake is your responsibility. Go! Pep talk the boy!”
She practically shoved me toward the bench. Jake sat at the end, his elbows pressed into his thighs, his hands clenched into fists
Similar Books
