I stare down at her. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather just spend it on the beach, instead.” I tell her. “Hell, I’d rather be on an air boat with Trace, gator hunting this summer, than sweating my ass off on this field one more second.”
“Why were you ever on the team?” she fires back, because she knows this is the last thing I want to be doing with my time.
But we both know exactly why I put up with this shit for so long, and it wasn’t because athletics looked good on my college applications.
I cock an amused eyebrow, smirking a little.
She smiles like she didn’t already know I was always here for her.
“And gator hunting doesn’t start until August,” she says.
“And he’s not hunting. Is that what he tells you?” Krisjen pants next to us. “He just feeds them marshmallows and then we sneak onto Mark Chamberlain’s house boat, drink his beer, and have sex.”
I groan, rolling off Clay. “Too much information, Krisjen.”
I rise, pulling Clay up after me, and notice blood on her knee. She’s wearing pants to prom, otherwise she’d be pissed about a scraped knee. I’m wearing a dress again, but this time it’s thin silk, tight, and there won’t be a stitch of underwear underneath. I enjoy making her sweat in public.
Squatting down, I take her leg and use my shirt to pat away the blood. Coos go off to my left, and I turn my head at the girls on the bench looking at me like puppy dogs as I take care of her.
I shake my head. Some people, as expected, were pricks about it all when Clay came out, but the advocates are louder, stronger, and much more vicious when they witness an injustice. Anyone who had shit to say soon found it was better to keep their stupid comments to themselves, unless they wanted to be immortalized on the internet forever.
If anyone wasn’t a friend, they were at least quiet.
Callum has never made eye contact again. It’s almost as if we don’t exist at school. He never appears without a girl wrapped around him, and I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince that he’s living his best life—us or himself—but the bruises Dallas gave him that night have healed, and Callum behaves like nothing ever happened.
We stay out of his way. He stays out of ours. For now.
Milo mysteriously left school following Fox Hill. We’d see him around town here and there, but no matter how many times I ask Clay about it, she denies playing any role in having him finish the school year from home instead of anywhere near me.
Not that I don’t appreciate her throwing her weight around to protect me. Her mother’s help to protect the lighthouse—and essentially Sanoa Bay—worked like magic, after all. Her grandmother fought us on it, but her father backed off surprisingly quickly, even though he was one of the people who lost when the development deal fell through. I think he just lost the energy to do anything else that might make his family any more unhappy.
“What are you all doing here?” I hear someone exclaim.
We look up, seeing the coach in a sundress with her glasses pushed up on top of her head. She looks like she was passing by on her way back from the beach.
“I have no idea,” I tell her, shooting Clay a look.
Coomer checks her phone. “Prom is in four hours, Clay!”
Everyone looks to Clay, my devious angel feigning innocence.
“All right, we’re going,” she laughs. “See y’all tonight! Get out of here!”
“Whooo!” a unanimous howl sounds.
Everyone grabs their gear, thunder cracking across the sky, and I rise, pulling Clay in for a kiss now that everyone is clearing out.
Her hands immediately go to my face, and I’m trying not to count the days left, but it’s always in the forefront of my mind.
“Come on.” She takes my hand. “Hair, makeup…”
“Shower,” I tell her, implying all good things start there.
“I’ll be at your house in an hour,” Krisjen says to Clay.
“Okay.”
We put away our gear and take our bags, and I notice Amy sitting on the benches, packing up her stuff. Alone.
The first day after the ball, Clay and I ate by ourselves in the cafeteria until Krisjen and Chloe joined us. Over the next few days, others found their seats closer until eventually, we were in the mix, no separation between our little party and everyone else. We’re a part of things now, despite whispers here and there.
Amy never showed.
And while she’s not alone at school, she looks lonely, because her pride won’t let her grow up.
I eye Clay.
She narrows her eyes, following my gaze to Amy and then back to me. She shakes her head.
Yes, I tell her with my glare.
Enemies are a choice. A result of our egos. They happen when we’ve chosen to see sheep instead of sleeping lions.