I pull the laces of my cleats tight. Tie them once, wrap the extra around my foot, and tie them again. Conner opens his locker next to me and smirks.
“So,” he says. “Marion Taylor, huh?”
I don’t look at him. How has he figured that out already? I was pretty sure he couldn’t tell who she was yesterday when she was by the fence, but damn. I should know better. I stare at the bench and switch feet.
“Right, so when exactly did that happen?” He changes out his T-shirt for his practice jersey.
“Nothing happened,” I say. “Don’t know her.”
“You’re a shitty liar, Medford.” Conner chucks a sock in my direction. I bat it away. “So was this some divine inspiration that struck you at the bonfire, or have you and Miss Goody Two-shoes been at this for a while?”
I shove my clothes into the locker as calmly as I can and say nothing.
“Play quiet all you want, Medford, but Marion seemed pretty concerned about what you told me about her.”
“You talked to her?”
Conner lifts an eyebrow. “Who, Marion? You mean that girl you don’t know anything about? I repeat, when did that happen?”
I shut my locker and head for the door. What did he say to her?
“So, you wouldn’t care if I asked her out, right? You two aren’t a thing?” Conner calls after me. I flip him the bird and he starts to cackle. I’m halfway out the door and he starts to sing, “Like a virgin. Oooh! Touched for the very first time. Like a viiiiir-gin. When your—”
I let the door slam behind me. Conner can be such a dick.
I immediately start running when I get to the field, doing two laps to get my muscles working. I shouldn’t be as pissed at Conner as I am. But fuck, he didn’t see her in my car. Crying in that way no one’s supposed to cry.
I promise myself I won’t let this show in practice. But when Conner jogs up to me I pull him into a headlock. “Look, Con,” I say. “If you want my sloppy seconds, you can have ’em.” But that only makes him laugh harder.
“Not my type, Medford,” he says, squirming out of my grip. “Not that I would have pegged Taylor as your type. But if you’ve got the itch, scratch it.”
He makes an obscene gesture and I want to smack him. Tell him it’s not like that. I don’t know why I keep defending her. She should just be an itch I want to scratch. And part of me still wants her. But that’s the problem. I can’t touch this girl. Not after seeing her cry in my car. And I don’t know what it means that I like that I can’t touch her. I don’t know why that scares me more.
* * *
After practice Vanessa is sitting on my car. Conner smiles when he sees her, and I open the passenger door. I make sure Conner is watching, so he gets it and will lay off on the Marion thing. Or maybe I do it to convince myself there is no Marion thing.
We go to the ridge and fool around in my backseat. Everything with Vanessa is easy, and I like easy. I like that I don’t have to think. I like that her shirt’s so tight it reminds me of Madeline wearing that snug V-neck that was mostly see-through. Madeline was Josie’s friend and I met her at my first high school party, which Josie took me to my sophomore year. I’d just made varsity, and Josie gave me a bottle of vodka to celebrate. When we arrived, everyone at the party noticed Josie. Not because I was with her, but because Josie had a presence all her own. Something they couldn’t ignore.
“Welcome to the playground, little brother,” she said, unscrewing the top of my vodka bottle and nodding for me to drink. “Let’s make you a king.”
The liquid burned.
It was crowded and people sat on couches and each other’s laps. Out the window was a red barn and a keg, but we didn’t have to move. The party came to Josie. She introduced me to everyone, her eyes lighting up when she told them about how I’d just made the team.
“It’s not surprising,” she said, her arm around my shoulders. “Have you seen how fast this fucker can run?”
I was a shiny penny she was showing off—but not in some shit way, like she needed attention. This was different. Like she was proud. It was different than at home. She didn’t retreat into her room or tiptoe around Mom. She didn’t scowl at me or bitch about how Mom never taught her how to play guitar. This was another world for Josie. Where she was someone else. Someone better.
The party had been raging for a while, and I was sufficiently drunk, when Josie introduced me to her friend Madeline. Madeline had black hair and wore a white shirt that was so thin I could see her bra through it. I don’t know how it happened, exactly, but Josie disappeared, and Madeline took me out to the barn.
She hooked her fingers through my belt loops and we went behind the hay bales, where she put my hands on her tits and started kissing me. I was so confused and excited, I just went with it. I mean, she was gorgeous and she let me touch her everywhere. She moaned and nibbled my neck as if she liked it. Which I guess she did, because she pushed me onto the ground and started losing clothes. Before I knew it she pulled me out of my pants, slid a condom on me, and we were having sex.
I don’t know if she was drunk or if she had planned this. All I knew was that I was having sex and it felt so fucking good and then it was over.
Straw poked my legs, and I didn’t know what to do after, so I said—
“I love you.”
Madeline laughed.
“Gawd!” she said, pulling that tight shirt over her breasts. “Don’t tell a girl you love her unless you mean it.”
I looked away and grabbed my jeans to cover myself.
“It’s just sex, Kurt.” She leaned over and kissed me, hot and wet. My hands touched her through her shirt, and she pressed into me and moaned. I thought we were about to have a second round, but she rolled off me and pulled up her pants.
“Trust me, you’ll get better,” she said, before leaving the barn. “I’ll tell your sister it was awesome.”
I shifted away from her and pulled off the condom. I didn’t want her to tell my sister anything. I clawed through the straw and shoved the condom under it, not sure what else I was supposed to do with it, then I put on my clothes.
I went back to the party and found Madeline by the keg. She was laughing with her friends and one of the seniors from my team. I came up next to her, not sure if I should put my arm around her or play it cool, but she didn’t look at me. I touched her elbow and she pulled away, dropping herself into the senior’s arms and pressing her tits against him.
I went into the house to look for that bottle of vodka my sister had given me. Most of it was gone when I found it, but I spent the rest of the night nursing it anyway.
Later when Josie was driving us home, I asked her about Madeline, if she’d said anything about me.
“No,” Josie said, looking at me funny. “Why?”
“No reason,” I lied.
“Oh my God!” She laughed. “You totally have a crush on Madeline!”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do! God, you’d better get over that quick, because Madds is totally in love with Jackson. And you’re cute, little brother, but trust me, you haven’t got a chance.”
“I don’t want a chance. I don’t care.”
“Good.” Josie eyed me before reaching over and pinching my elbow. It was a weird big-sister thing, that pinch, like she knew I was lying but it was okay. “It’s for the best. She’ll break your heart anyway.”
I shrugged and looked out the window. So Madeline didn’t want me to love her. Fine. She didn’t want me to be her boyfriend or even her date. She just wanted to screw me and that to be the end of it.
And oddly, I was okay with that.