I’m way more like Steve than like my dad. The rest of the Royals take after Callum, but I’m reckless and thoughtless and those are classic Steve O’Halloran traits.
“You can be passionate about the same things as someone you don’t like,” Hartley says softly. “Like, just because I play the violin doesn’t mean I’m going to drink myself to death like other famous musicians. Flying planes doesn’t mean you’re going to steal your best friend’s girl.”
“He didn’t steal his friend’s girlfriend. He killed someone,” I say through gritted teeth. My words come out louder than I intend, catching the attention of a couple students passing by.
Hartley shrugs off the mention of Steve’s actions. “There are lots of things I think you’re capable of, Easton, but killing someone isn’t one of them. Not even if you fly a plane.”
“I thought that about Steve, too,” I mutter under my breath.
Hartley doesn’t say another word until we reach her locker. “Thanks for coming to practice with me, even if you didn’t enjoy it.” She tugs the backpack off my shoulder.
I lean against the locker next to hers and watch as she stows her instrument away and pulls out her books for the next period. “Who said I didn’t enjoy it?”
“You left after the first passage.”
“You noticed?” She hadn’t moved a muscle when I left the room or when I came back in.
“Of course.”
“Well, I liked it.” Way too much. “I liked it so much I might take some lessons.” I reach over her head and grab the case out of the locker, then tuck the entire case under my chin. “What do you think? Good look for me?”
I strike a pose. When she doesn’t respond, I shove the case back in her locker.
“Whatever,” I say carelessly. “Violin’s kind of boring. I think I’ll go for the guitar. Easier to pick up chicks that way.”
“You’re being an ass right now.”
Again, there’s an itch between my shoulders. The feeling that I need her approval, and how much I hate it when I don’t get it. It makes me lash out. “Does that mean we’re no longer friends?” I mock.
She tilts her head. “I almost like it better when you’re this way. At least I know there’s some genuine emotion behind your scorn. It’s better than your fake good humor.”
The itch turns into heat. “Fake good humor? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you’re full of it most of the time and that you’re more interesting when you’re angry, like now. Or when you’re being genuine, like when you were talking about being scared of flying because it makes you worried you’ll be too much like the guy you used to admire but who turned out to be a terrible human being. I know exactly how that feels.”
I open my mouth to unleash a torrent of insults, beginning with how she couldn’t possibly know how I feel because she’s a nobody and I’m Easton Royal, but I’m saved from my own stupidity by Pash, who slaps me on the back as he runs to his next class.
“What day is it, son?” he yells.
“Game day!” Dominic yells back.
Hartley twists around to watch the two players race by. “You have a game today?”
I pluck my jersey away from my chest. “You think I wear this for the hell of it?”
“What do I know? I went to an all-girls school for the last three years.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm what?” she asks suspiciously. “Ugh. Are you thinking something dirty?”
“Nope, I was thinking how that’s the most information you’ve ever willingly shared about yourself.”
“I let you listen while I practiced,” she protests.
Time to put my plan into motion. I really want her to come to a game so that she can see I’m good at something like she is. That there’s more to me than my smart-ass comments and my looks. Besides, even though I promised not to hit on her, I think if she sees me in my football gear she’ll be like every other female on the planet who loves a man in uniform.
I’m playing the odds here. There’s no such thing as platonic friendship between guys and girls. Eventually the clothes are gonna come off. So, really, I’ve just got to be patient.
“Well, since I listened to you practice,” I say, “that means you have to come to the game tonight. You owe me.”
I brace myself for a bunch of excuses, but she surprises me.
“If we’re doing quid pro quo then I should come to a practice, not an actual game.”
“Look at you with the fancy Latin. Sure then, come and watch me lift. I get it—you want to see me without my shirt on. You know what? Let me give you a sneak peek. It’s awesome, by the way. You might want to close one eye to reduce the effect.”
With a wide grin, I pull up my jersey to expose my abs.
“Royal! Pull your shirt down,” barks Headmaster Beringer, who chooses that moment to walk past us.
I sheepishly tug my shirt down.
Hartley’s cheeks are pink, but she plays it cool as she says the words I want to hear. “Fine. One game.”
* * *
I arrange for Hartley to sit with Val and Ella so it’s easy to spot her when I run out of the tunnel. I don’t want to brag, but I play awesome. So does the rest of the team. Bran, in particular, shines. He’s a real asset, and I have no problem telling him that in the locker room after the game.
“You played great, man.” I slap him on the back as we head for the showers.
“Thanks. The defense made it easy for me.” He grins. “I don’t think I had to drive farther than sixty yards to get a touchdown tonight.”
Everyone else is jubilant, too. There’s a lot of towel snapping and ass slapping as we shower and ready ourselves for some postgame fun.
“After-party’s at Dom’s house tonight,” Pash yells.
A loud cheer fills the locker room.
“You going?” Connor Babbage asks as we shuffle out of the steam-filled shower area.
“Probably. Gotta check in with my peeps, though.” I plop my towel-clad butt on the bench and grab my phone.
U still here? I text Hartley.
Yeah
Good. Meet me in the parking lot?
OK
The parking lot is packed with students. With so many headlights on, it’s nearly as bright as day.
Bran falls in step with me as I walk toward the girls. “Going to Dom’s?”
“Maybe.” To be honest, the last thing I want to do is go to another high school party where I see all the same people and do the same thing I’ve done for years. It’s nothing more than music, mixed drinks, and making out with girls I don’t really like.
“That sounds like an enthusiastic yes.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m going. Seems like it’ll be a good place to get to know my classmates.”
“Why? They’re all assholes,” I say sourly.
Bran cocks his head. “Including you?”
“I’m the worst of them all.” I don’t know why I’m in such a foul mood. We won, for chrissake. I let out a short breath. “Sorry. I don’t think I got enough hits in during the game. You spent too much time on the field.”
“Get used to it,” he says cheerfully, unfazed by my bad attitude. “I plan to spend a lot of time out there.”
“Good game!” Ella cheers as we get close, saving me from responding.