thirty-nine

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The first game of the playoffs takes place Friday. I end up going even though I'm not too excited at the thought, because I know how important my dad's coaching job is to him and I want to support my father. As much as I don't want to see Lacey or Lucas or even Jack (although the latter is inevitable), I can't deny that there's a part of me that genuinely does want to go to the game, because football has always been a big part of my life. So I ask Lana if she wants to join me, to which she readily agrees. She is dating Kyler, after all, and he's on the team.

I successfully manage to avoid Jack for the most part, keeping close to Lana or talking briefly with my father. That is, until I'm walking back to the bleachers from the concession stand, water bottle in hand. Lana went to use the bathroom, so of course I end up being alone when the inevitable happens. Jack is on his way toward the field, exiting the boy's bathroom just as I pass the door he walks out of. Since neither of us were expecting another person to appear, we end up colliding with each other, taken off guard. For a moment I seem to be experiencing déjà vu, thinking back to my first day of school. I'd been walking down the hallway, not paying attention, and ended up running into Jack by accident. I find myself bitterly wishing that moment had never happened. Maybe then I never would have ended up with Jack at all.

The impact of Jack's body bumping into mine sends my water bottle flying from my hand, landing on the ground by Jack's feet. In a moment of shock, a startled cry leaves my lips, and I stagger on my feet, nearly toppling over. On instinct, Jack reaches out a hand to steady me. The second his touch comes into contact with my skin, electricity pulsates through my body, sparks passing between us like a firework show.

"Sorry," Jack murmurs, seemingly not yet having noticed it's me he ran into. "I didn't see—" Jack stops short when his eyes meet mine, jaw dropping. He's just as uncomfortable as I am, as this is the first time we're seeing each other face-to-face since I confronted him outside of the auditorium.

For a moment, Jack stands before me in silence, staring as if he's seen a ghost. I wish I was able to know what he was thinking at the same time I wish I didn't care enough to know what he thinks about me, torn somewhere between hating Jack and loving him more than ever. It's the first time I've ever wanted to numb myself to emotions.

Bending down, Jack grabs my water bottle. I have yet to say a ward, though an unintentional "Thank you" mindlessly escapes my lips when Jack returns the water bottle to me. Our fingers brush throughout the action, those shock-like sparks returning. I don't want to feel anything at Jack's touch. And I hate that I do feel something. I know Jack felt the sparks, too, because he jerks his hand away from mine quickly, as if he's been shocked.

"I should go," I say abruptly, no longer able to remain in Jack's presence, awkward silence stretching between us as we steal shy glances. So I force myself to turn my back on him after speaking, not waiting for a response. I have to admit, part of me wants Jack to grab my wrist and turn me around before I can go, for him to fight for what we once had. Because then I'd know that what we had wasn't all fake; that he cared about me, if just a little.

But—of course—he doesn't. Jack doesn't call my name as I walk off or chase after me, just like all the chances he had to do so in the past but never acted on. He just lets me go, allowing me to slip right through his grasp all over again. And maybe it's for the best, because if Jack were to run after me right now it would be much too hard not to fall for his words, and I can't allow myself to fall for him when there is no one waiting to catch me.

When I reach the bleachers, I notice Lana in our usual seats. I take my spot next to her, deciding not to mention the run-in I just had with Jack. I don't really want to talk about him, but my main reason for not wanting to tell Lana the truth is because I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed over the way I froze in Jack's presence. Embarrassed that when he touched me, I still felt something for him, despite all he's done. Embarrassed that he had the chance to fight for me, but chose not to anyway.

Once the game starts, I spot Jack on the field immediately. He's standing center field in his usual starting position, eyeing the crowd like he's searching for someone. His eyes seem to find mine before I even realize it, as I'm the one he'd normally search for just before a game started. It was a tradition for him to pick me out of the audience, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he offered me a wave to prove that he found me—a needle in a haystack. I'm not sure how I feel, knowing that Jack is still able to spot me, even when he's not searching for me in specific.

When the referee blows his whistle, signifying the start of the game, Jack has yet to turn away from me. He seems lost in thought, unaware of the game unraveling around him. He remains in one place, oblivious to my father yelling at him from the sidelines to snap out of his daze. I'm obviously not the only one to notice Jack's odd behavior, because Lana suddenly leans forward and asks, "What is he doing?"

I can't seem to tear my gaze away from Jack's, so I answer Lana without looking at her. "I don't know." Which is true. I have no idea why Jack is staring at me so intently, as if completely transfixed. It doesn't make any sense.

It's because of me that Jack ends up getting tackled. It's like time is moving in slow motion as a player from the opposite team collides with Jack in an attempt to catch the ball spiraling in mid-air, knocking Jack down and falling on top of him in the process. Once Jack hits the ground, I unintentionally gasp, shooting out of my seat for a better view. Because—despite everything—I do still care about Jack. I think a part of me would die to know that he'd gotten himself hurt, as ironic as that is, considering that Jack recently hurt me with no regards for my feelings whatsoever.

Within a few seconds, Jack rises to his feet. I slowly lower back into my seat, cheeks flaming. It's a little embarrassing to have Lana visibly see by my former reaction that I still care about Jack, though I think she understands. When you have real feelings for someone, those feelings don't just go away because that person is no longer a part of your life. Although, things would be much easier if that was how emotions worked.

As the night progresses, the rest of the game unfolds. I have to admit, things don't go quite the way I expected them to. Every time a pass gets thrown Jack's way, he ends up fumbling with the ball before dropping it altogether, easily allowing the other team to gain control of the ball. When Jack tries to score a point by throwing the ball toward the field goal, he throws too gently or much too low, the opposing team easily intercepting his tosses. Jack plays like he's never even heard of football before, which ends up hurting our team tremendously. I'm a little concerned, because it's not like Jack to mess up so often when he's on the field.

Once half-time rolls around, I watch as my father storms up to Jack, clearly wondering what has gone wrong with him. "Crawford!" I hear Dad bark, "What the hell was that? Get it together!"

I can't make out Jack's response from where I'm sitting, but I'm curious as to what's causing him to be off his game today. I mean, Jack is easily the best player on the team. When we were together, I used to joke around by saying that the team would have a much harder time winning games without him, their stay player. And now that seems to be exactly what's happening. Considering this is the playoffs, our team can't afford to lose. Especially not because the golden boy forgot how to play football overnight.

When half-time comes to an end, Jack still hasn't gotten himself together. We're down by five points, which the rest of the team frantically tries to make up for before running out of time. Kyler ends up scoring two touchdowns, Lana jumping out of her seat and cheering at the top of her lungs for him each time. She doesn't mean to, but Lana's cheering reminds me of the times I used to do the same for Jack, pain echoing in my heart. I hate myself for being unable to let go of him.

Once the time is up, our team manages to win by a single point. One point. I know that my dad is most likely going out of his mind at the thought of knowing that only one flimsy point has his team over the rivals. He's had the boys training for weeks straight just for this game, and seeing his team not play as well as he'd hoped they would will probably get him a little down, despite the win. I can already picture it now, my dad gathering the boys in the center of the field, yelling at them for not being on their A game. For some reason, the thought makes me want to laugh.

"Why don't we get out of here?" Lana suggests as the audience begins to filter out of the bleachers, voice soft.

"You don't want to talk to Kyler first?" I ask. I'm more than ready to leave, but it'd be selfish of me to not offer Lana a chance to congratulate her boyfriend on his win, especially considering Kyler pretty much held the entire team together tonight.

"That's okay," Lana assures me, forcing a smile that's much too tight to be genuine. I know she's only rejecting the offer because she knows I don't want to see Jack, which is beyond sweet of her, though unnecessary. "I'll see him alter on. Besides, there isn't much to celebrate, considering the way the team played tonight. I know Ky was expecting more."

I guess Lana's right when she says there isn't much to celebrate, and I know better than to try to talk her out of something once she has her mind made up. So I let Lana drag me down the bleachers and willingly follow her out to the parking lot. I only look back once, wondering what happened with Jack tonight, unable to shake the feeling that whatever was messing him up had to do with me.

• • •

I'm heading for my first period the following Monday when I'm confronted by Chris and Kyler in the hallway, both of whom have been pretty M.I.A for the last few weeks of my life. I'm unsure of what the two want from me, as I'm no longer Jack's girlfriend. They're his friends, so I'd assumed they would take his side in everything, a suspicion that had been confirmed when Kyler and Chris suddenly stopped hanging out with me during school to stick by Jack.

Approaching me, I notice that both boys wear a serious expression, which is a first for them. Well, maybe I shouldn't say they approach me, as it's really more like they've been waiting for me, closing in on me as I walk past.

"Morgan." Chris is the first of the boys to speak, wrapping a hand around my wrist to stop me from walking any further. "We need to talk to you."

"Oh, hey guys." I try to sound as friendly as possible, considering the circumstances. I'd be lying if I said things between the three of us didn't feel awkward, with all that's happened recently. They know what Jack did and still decided to choose him, though I don't know what else I expected to happen. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm just gonna put this bluntly," Kyler murmurs, gaze steadily holding mine, all traces of playfulness wiped from his features. "You and Jack need to get back together."

Stunned by what Kyler has just said, I find myself blinking, wondering if I heard him correctly. Once his words register in my mind, I burst out laughing, as Kyler has just said the stupidest thing I think I've ever heard.

"There's no way I'm going to get back together with Jack," I tell Kyler, crossing my arms over my chest as I stare at him defiantly. "He really hurt me. So, I'm sorry, guys, but if that's all you wanted, then I think I should just head to class."

I try to turn around and go back to minding my own business, but Chris reaches for my wrist again, stopping me in my tracks. "It's not like that, Morgan," he says. "You don't understand. We can explain."

"Did Jack send you over to me?" I snap, ditching the friendly card as my inner bitch comes to the surface. "For you guys to explain what happened on his behalf? Because I don't want to hear the excuses you two make up for him. Tell Jack that if he really wants to talk to me, then he can do it himself. He's acting like a coward."

"Jack didn't send us here, Morgan," Kyler tells me, expression pinched and somewhat annoyed. "You're not understanding. You're ruining him, Morgan. Did you see our last game? You were fucking with his head so much it was like he forgot how to play, and it almost cost us our win! If we would have lost, we'd have been—"

"Dude!" Chris hisses, cutting Kyler off and elbowing him in the stomach. As Kyler doubles over, wincing, I find myself fuming at his words, hardly able to believe that he's seriously blaming for for being the reason Jack didn't play so well Friday. Just as I open my mouth to tell Kyler off, Chris is speaking again. "Morgan, we know it wasn't your fault Jack sucked on Friday. I mean, I'm pretty sure he was distracted by you a little, but that isn't the point." Inhaling a deep breath, Chris shakes his head as he exhales slowly. "I wanted to talk to you about the bet rumors. Because what Lacey said during the assembly wasn't the full truth."

I raise my eyebrows at Chris's revelation, wondering what he might be getting at. And as much as I don't want to hear what he has to say, I get the feeling I don't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Look," Chris continues, "there was a bet about you, but it wasn't like what Lacey made it out to be. One of the guys on the team jokingly said he'd give a hundred dollars to the first guy who could get with you. But, Jack—"

"Stop." I squeeze my eyes closed, finding tears beginning to blur my vision. Because what Christ just told me only manages to make everything worse. There really was a bet regarding me. Lacey was telling the truth. To Jack, I wasn't worth anything but some quick cash and maybe a notch in his belt, if he got lucky. He didn't care about me, didn't really love me. And he lied to me. He used me. I trusted him with so much, and none of it meant anything to him. "I can't hear this," I tell Chris, choking the words out over the lump forming in my chest. "I just . . . I can't. I'm not going to get back together with Jack. I'm sorry." With that, I turn my back to the two boys and walk away, because I owe it to myself to walk away from things that can only manage to hurt me.

"Morgan!" Chris calls after me, tone desperate. "You didn't let me finish! Morgan, please, just let me—"

I slip into my classroom before I can hear the rest of Chris's pleading. And the truth is, I don't want to hear what he has to say. I don't want to hear his explanations. I don't want to face the ugly truth, which is that Jack—a boy I loved and trusted—used me, a fact that has finally been confirmed by one of his closest friends. The truth is all that matters to me, and now that it's been set free there is nothing Chris or Kyler or anyone else can say that can change that.


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