“Well, at least you’re not an asshole anymore. Oh, wait ... never mind,” I say back.
“She’s got you there.” Todd smiles as he wraps his arms around my waist. “Hi, Ash.” He leans down and kisses my cheek, his warm breath feeling wonderful on my neck.
We’re interrupted by Mark Conner’s bright red pickup truck pulling into the lot, which distracts Brian from belittling me for a minute.
Mark’s truck is huge. It’s the kind that has a back seat and four doors. It’s as if a car and a truck had a giant baby. I’m sure these trucks are a dime a dozen in the south, but we’re only a few miles away from Manhattan, so pickup trucks are few and far between. Therefore, you can see him coming from miles away, and you always know it’s Mark.
He’s not quite one of the three Musketeers—the nickname our school has for Todd, Brian, and my brother—but if there was a fourth Musketeer, it would be Mark. He’s probably the best running back our team has had in a long time, and he knows it.
“Mark Conner, as I live and breathe!” Brian shouts as Mark hops out of his truck.
Brian and Mark could have been separated at birth. They are exactly alike except Brian has sandy blonde hair, and Mark has brown hair that is so dark it’s almost black. They both have chiseled features that only seem to come with being a stellar athlete. They even have the same, exact haircut—short with just enough length in the front to spike it up.
Brian has chocolate brown eyes, and Mark has striking hazel eyes that seem to change colors with what he wears, which is cool. I’m kind of obsessed with eye color, especially because mine are the most boring brown. Anyway, they both have the reputation of being major players on and off the field. I’m not sure either of them has ever had a serious girlfriend, but girls don’t seem to care; they like being with them when they get the opportunity. That is, until Blythe for Brian.
“Boys.” Mark nods his head toward all of them. “Little Taylor,” he acknowledges me, giving Todd a smile I don’t miss. “Life is good in the SL, boys.” He gestures around the parking lot. “We’re seniors, baby!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.
I can’t help rolling my eyes. We haven’t even been here five minutes, and this senior thing is already getting old.
“So what football camps did you hit this summer?” Mark asks all the boys.
Our school is a huge football school, and since we made it to state last year, a lot of the boys were invited to high profile college football camps, which helps them get recruiting exposure. As they go through them, my heart sinks at the reminder. I have one year left, and then Todd will be in college. As exciting as it is for him to be a senior, it means this is the last of everything we will experience together in high school, and I’m already dreading it.
“I hit some of the southern schools; Florida State and Bama,” Mark says, beaming with pride. “But, man, they kicked my ass.”
“Tell us about it,” Ryan says.
I feel Todd’s arms tighten around me. I know he’s thinking about what happened at camp, and I know he still feels guilty. I just glance up at him with a smile. It’s an unspoken conversation between us, one where we know what the other is thinking.
“Speaking of the south kicking our asses,” Brian says, noticing Blythe pulling into the parking lot. She parks her white BMW right next to his red one. “Here’s my girlfriend.” He smiles as he walks over to meet up with her.
On that word, Mark chokes on the water he’s drinking. “Did he say girlfriend? When did that happen?” he asks the rest of us with such a shocked expression I’m trying hard not to laugh.
The boys glance at each other with smiles as they shake their heads.
“This summer,” Todd answers.
“Wow!” Mark says. “I lost my partner in crime, since you two are married.” He gestures toward Todd and Ryan, and then his eyes connect with mine. “No offense, little Taylor.”
“None taken.” I return his smile.
I glance over to see Brian wrap his arms around Blythe. The smile she gives him is so sincere. They work, they fit. I have never seen Brian look at a girl the way he looks at Blythe.
Of course, she looks incredible, her curly red hair is wild and crazy, just like her, but it’s controlled chaos. She’s wearing tight jeans with a long, button-down shirt; a wide belt; and her classic, black cowboy boots. She has a jeweled headband on, but she’s wearing it 80s style around her forehead. Everything about her screams confidence. She stays true to herself and her southern roots, no apologies. She is who she is: artistic, stylish, and smart. God, I wish I could be like her, but I guess I’ll have to settle for being friends with her.
“Hey, guys, Ash. How’s your head?” she asks as they join our circle.
My hand instinctively goes to the scar, and I feel Todd’s arms tighten around me as if his protective mode kicked into autopilot at the reminder.
Mark gives me a quick, questioning look.
“Just a little accident at the pool while we were life guarding this summer.” I shrug it off. “I’m good. Thanks, Blythe.” I give her a look that says thanks for bringing that up.
“Yeah, little.” Todd gives a sarcastic laugh. “Twenty-seven stitches and a night in the hospital.” He kisses my forehead.
“Yeah, but you still can’t top my stitches count,” Brian cuts in.
“You can have that one.” I nudge Brian. “That’s a competition I’m good with not winning.”
“Speaking of competition, Johnson, I heard you use the G-word. I thought that was forbidden.” Mark gives him a smirk. “Way to put a damper on my senior year.”
“You’ll meet the right one someday, MC.” Brian gives him a wink as he nuzzles his head into Blythe’s shoulder, making her giggle.
I never thought I would see this day.
“Never. This is senior year; who wants to be tied down? Speaking of tied down, did you guys get any offers yet?” Mark asks.
No further explanation is needed. College scouts have already contacted all of the boys, and offer letters will be coming soon if there is still interest. It’s the unspoken stress: Will they get scholarships? Will they get to play at the next level? I know they want to be together, but chances are slim that they’ll all get offers at the same school, never mind scholarships.
“Rumor is, they’ll come in now that school is starting. I think they reach out to Coach W. first,” Ryan answers.
“Senior year, baby. This is it,” Brian says as he places his arm around Blythe’s waist, resting his hand on her hip.
Luckily, the first bell rings, interrupting the next wave of senior ranting.
“Shoot, we still need to go to our lockers,” someone says.
“Senior lockers. Today just gets better and better!” Brian shouts, mostly for my benefit, and my love for him grows.
This is going to be a long year.
When Todd and I let go of one another’s hand at the crossroads that separates the senior hallway from the sophomores’, he gives me a quick, sweet kiss. I miss him already, which sounds ridiculous, but I do. At least we have the same lunch schedule.
I still haven’t talked to him about Casey’s texts. I told Casey I needed to think about it; however, I need to give him an answer today, because if I’m not going to swim, they need to fill the spot with someone else. I have no idea what to do.
As I walk up to my new locker in the sophomore hallway, I see Sid and Shane. We don’t have a lot of catch up time since the first bell already rang, but by some miracle, our lockers are still close to one another, so at least I will get to see them. Of course, on the not quite such a miracle side, Simon’s locker is also next to ours this year.
I like Simon, but Sid and Simon together is a little much first thing in the morning. Sid is riding to school with his mom in the mornings just so she can see even more of him, if that gives you any idea.
“It’s about time, Ash,” Sid says, closing her locker door.
“Good Morning to you, too.” I give her a smile as I open my locker.
“Ash!” Shane gives me a hug from behind. “I missed you.” He whispers in my ear, “You can’t leave me alone with them.”