Chapter 25

The middle-aged manbeside me hasn’t washed his Longhorns jersey since the season started. He’s afraid if he does, it will interrupt the team’s winning streak. I would have been able to guess his jersey was unwashed from the faint musk wafting in my direction every time he stands and calls out encouragement to the guys on the field anyway, but I know it for a fact because in the slower moments, he strikes up conversation with me since we’re both here alone.
Given all Grace knows about Carter, I didn’t feel right asking her to come to the game with me tonight. Grace knows I have absolutely no interest in football, and that after everything went down with Jake, I would never attend a game. Yet, here I sit in the bleachers, my nails painted blue, and wearing a Longhorns tank top on top of it all. I certainly didn’t own one, but Carter brought me one after school, telling me I needed some team gear.
I don’t care about football. I still hate all of this. But I want to be supportive, so here I sit.
The team must have scored or something, because the man beside me jumps up and hollers at the top of his lungs. I wince, covering my ears to protect them from the roar of the crowd. I look out at the field, then the score board, trying to figure out what happened. There’s still time on the clock, so the game must not be over. I think the score changed, but I wasn’t really paying attention to what it was before.
I really need to do some research and figure out at the very least how the game is divided up, and how scoring works. I think football is four quarters, but to be honest, I’m not entirely sure.
Pushing up off the metal bench, I ease my way out of the row and down the concrete steps. I need a break from the football aspect of this game, so I’ll go to the concession stand and get something to drink. Carter says we’re all going for food afterward, so I won’t get myself a snack, but I’m so bored, I’m tempted to get food just because eating would give me something to do.
Technically, I brought a book in my purse and I was hoping I could sneak a few chapters between plays. The stands are too noisy though, and every time I look at my purse and think about getting it out, I figure that will inevitably be the moment Carter looks up at me. Then he’ll think I spent the whole game reading and not even paying attention to his whole golden arm thing.
Not that I really understand what he’s doing when he throws. I don’t know a good pass from a shitty one. The only barometer I have is the noise level. When the crowd goes nuts, I figure something good happened. When they’re quiet, I guess not.
There are two people in line when I get to the concession stand, so I pull out my phone to text Grace while I wait. I was supposed to head over to the church early tomorrow morning and put the finishing touches on the baskets, but Grace decided to go tonight and get a head start. While I wait to hear how it’s going, I move forward in line.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
My shoulders drop with disappointment and I turn to face Jake Parsons. I assumed he would be on the bench, not in the crowd, so crossing paths with him hadn’t even crossed my mind.
He’s smiling at me, his amused gaze raking over my Longhorn gear. “Did Hell have to freeze over to get you here, or is Carter really that good and he’s already made his way between your legs?”
My face flames at the truth in that comment, but I narrow my eyes at him anyway. “Nice to see you, too, Jake.”
He steps into line behind me, even though he’s already holding a Longhorn water bottle. Judging from the smell of his breath when he gets close to me, it’s not water he poured into it. “Oh, it’s always nice to see you, Zo.”
I fight the instinct to take a step back, but he’s too close. Jake is taller than me—not as tall as Carter, but still taller than me—and like Carter, when he wants to make himself look more intimidating, he uses every inch of his height.
“Don’t be a jerk,” I tell him, my tone low. I really don’t want trouble with him, but I’m not unarmed anymore. I have more than my own voice to protect me—I have Carter, and I’m not afraid to wield him.
Jake’s arm comes to settle around my shoulders and I stiffen. “Am I bein’ a jerk?”
“Get your arm off my shoulder.”
“Is that sexual harassment now, too?”
“You know what, Jake?” I snap back. “Touching a girl who doesn’t want you to touch her anywhere is pathetic, no matter what you want to call it. It’s pitiful.”
His blue eyes harden, turning from oceans as warm as summertime to little chips of ice. “Only when it’s me though, right? I seem to remember Carter touching you an awful lot when you didn’t want him to, and you’re datin’ him now. All comes down to what you can get out of it, I guess.”
“Tell yourself what you need to, Jake,” I tell him, shrugging his arm off. “Carter also happens to be a hell of a lot more interesting than you, but yeah, obviously that couldn’t have anything to do with me liking him.”
“Interesting, my ass. It’s his money or his dick that has you singin’ a different tune, and I hate to think you’d sell out for the latter,” Jake tells me, smirking a little, eyeing up my tank top and shaking his head.
“I’m bein’ supportive. That’s what you do when you’re with someone who’s into shit you don’t care about.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself, darlin’. I get it. You’re certainly not the first girl to chase after him, I just thought you were smart enough not to. Guess I was wrong.”
I open my mouth to point out I am not chasing Carter, that he is the one who pursued me, but I stop because it doesn’t matter. My words will fall on deaf ears. Jake has already made up his mind and sold himself on a narrative he needs to believe. The truth isn’t just irrelevant, it’s something he is actively disinterested in.
That his position is rooted in the idea that he and Carter are equally entitled to me and my desires are beside the point is a whole heap of sexist bullshit, but there’s no point trying to engage him in conversation about it. Unlike Carter, Jake is close-minded and set on viewing himself as a good guy, regardless of his actions. As crazy as it seems given his behavior and tendencies, Carter can be reasoned with. Without the emergence of a genuine desire to grow and evolve as a human being, Jake is a lost cause.
Telling Jake he’s not currently smart enough to interest me despite his boorish behavior—while true—wouldn’t help, so instead of responding, I turn my back to him and wait for the person at the counter to finish up.
“If you have fucked him, he’ll get bored with you now. Cast you aside like any other slut he goes through,” Jake continues, ignoring the cue that I no longer want to talk to him. “That’s what he does. You were nothin’ more than a novelty, some little virgin he wanted to nail. If you gave it up, you don’t have anything left to hold his interest.”
“Actually, I think I have a lot to offer regardless of my virginity, but my sex life is none of your business, so...”
“That’s your problem,” he states, moving to stand beside me. “You’re so damn full of yourself.”
“Thinking I have more to offer a guy than orgasms isn’t being full of myself, it’s having a healthier sense of self-worth than a snug napkin ring.” Meeting his gaze, I tell him, “Maybe if you had looked at me as something more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, you would have been the one to catch my interest. You didn’t. I’m not interested. I can’t be any clearer. Move along.”
Laughing despite himself, he says, “A snug napkin ring?”
Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I ask, “Oh, are not all dicks that thick? Sorry, I’ve only seen Carter’s.”
Now he loses his smile.
The alcohol compels him to act on his wounded ego rather than common sense and he grabs me around the waist, yanking me against his side. “That so? Well, come with me and I’ll be happy to introduce you to another one.”
My heart tumbles out of its cavity, but I don’t betray my nervousness. “Let go of me. I’m not some defenseless girl alone in a classroom tonight, Jake. If you don’t get your hands off me this time, I won’t tell Coach, I’ll tell Carter. Remember when he threatened me? He doesn’t want to fuck you, so I bet his threats for you would be even less pleasant.”
“You think you got him wrapped around your little finger that tight, huh?”
“Why don’t you try me and find out,” I challenge.
Jake shakes his head, his hooded gaze dropping to my lips. I don’t like the interest I see there as he murmurs, “So fuckin’ mouthy.”
Ahead of us, a woman calls out, “Next!”
I break eye contact with Jake and look ahead at the woman standing behind the concession counter. Jake doesn’t move to release me, but the woman caught his attention too, so I use the distraction to shove his arm away and step forward.
I order myself a drink and keep my gaze trained straight ahead, hoping if I stop feeding Jake attention, he’ll go away. I’m not sure whether or not he’ll still be standing there when I turn around, but I really don’t feel like dealing with him anymore tonight.
Thankfully when I turn around to head back to my seat, he’s gone.