Yup, he totally is. When the play starts, the opposing player lunges at Easton like he wants to murder him. But East is dangerous out there—he sweeps by his opponent, who falls to his knees, while two other Astor Park players tackle Marin High’s quarterback before he can throw the ball.
“That was a sack,” Sebastian says helpfully, leaning over his brother to explain the play to me.
“I don’t care,” I reply.
On my other side, Steve chuckles. “Not a fan of football, I gather?”
“Nope.”
“We’ve been working on her,” Callum says from the end of the row. “But no luck yet.”
“It’s all right, Ella,” Steve tells me. “The O’Hallorans are a basketball family, anyway.”
Just like that, I tense up again. Why does he keep saying stuff like that? I’m not an O’Halloran! And I hate basketball more than I hate football.
I muster up a smile and say, “Harpers are anti-sports. All sports.”
Steve’s mouth curves in a tiny smirk. “I don’t know about that… If I recall correctly, your mother was very…ah…sporty.”
My mouth slams shut. Was that some sort of disgusting innuendo? I’m not sure, but I think it was, and I really don’t like it. He’s not allowed to talk about my mom that way. He didn’t even know her. Not outside of the biblical sense, anyway.
On the field, the Astor Park offense is lining up. Wade is our quarterback, and he’s shouting unintelligible words to his teammates. I think I hear him yell “STUDMUFFIN!” at one point, which prompts me to poke Sawyer in the side.
“Did he just say ‘studmuffin’?”
Sawyer snickers. “Yeah. Peyton Manning has ‘Omaha’—Wade has ‘Studmuffin.’”
He might as well be speaking gibberish. I don’t know what a Peyton Manning is, and I don’t bother to ask. Instead, I watch as Wade throws a perfect spiral on the first play, which lands right in the capable hands of some Astor kid running fast down the sidelines.
My phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out and find a text from Val.
Ugh! He’s not allowed to play this good!
Instantly, my head swivels to search the crowd, but my best friend is nowhere to be seen.
Where r u?? I text back.
Concessions. No food at home so I drove here to buy a hot dog.
I snort out loud. The twins glance over, but I wave off their curious stares and send another message to Val.
U r SO busted. U came 2 C Wade!
NO. I was hungry.
For Wade.
I hate u.
Just admit u like him.
Never.
Fine. Then at least come up and sit w/ us. I miss ur face.
A loud cheer rocks the stands. I look down to catch the tail end of the play—another perfect pass from Wade. I’m not surprised when Val texts back immediately.
Nah. Going home. Stupid idea 2 come here 2nite.
Sympathy floods my system. Poor Val. I know this thing with Wade started off as a rebound for her, or maybe as a way to pass the time before she was ready to seriously date again after her breakup, but I’m positive she’s developed real feelings for the guy. And I think Wade likes her, too. They’re just too stubborn to admit it.
Like you and Reed? an inner voice taunts.
Okay, fine. Reed and I were the same way in the beginning. He was such a jerk to me, and I spent weeks fighting my feelings for him. But we’re together now and it’s awesome, and I want Val to experience that same awesomeness.
“Who are you texting?”
I instinctively slap my hand over the screen when I realize that Steve is peering at my phone. Why the hell is he trying to read my texts?
“A friend,” I answer tersely.
His narrowed gaze focuses on the home bench, as if he’s expecting to see Reed typing into his cell phone. But Reed has his hands on his knees and is intensely watching the game.
I don’t like the suspicion in Steve’s eyes. He already knows I’m with Reed. And even if he doesn’t like it, he has absolutely no say in who I date.
“Well, why don’t you put the phone away?” he suggests, and there’s a bite to his tone. “You’re out with your family. Whoever you’re talking to can wait.”
I shove the phone back in my purse. Not because he ordered me to, but because I might’ve hurled it in his face otherwise. Callum never cared if I texted my friends during a football game. If anything, he was happy that I had friends in the first place.
Beside me, Steve nods in approval and refocuses his attention on the game.
I try to do the same, but I’m all riled up again. I want to catch Reed’s eye and mouth to him how much I dislike Steve, but I know Reed will just tell me to ignore him, that Steve will get “bored” of this father stuff eventually.
Except I’m starting to think that’s not going to happen.
15
Reed
After the game, Dad and Steve insist on taking us out for a late dinner at some French place in the city. I don’t want to go, but I’m not exactly given a choice. Dad wants us to be seen in public. He says we can’t hide, that we need to act like nothing’s wrong.
But everything is wrong. All those stares at the game tonight… Shit, my back and my ears are still burning from all the condemning eyes and scornful whispers that pierced me.