Playing the Enemy: The Trouble With Tomboys #1 Page 2

  Bentley arrived in my doorway out of breath. At nine years old, he had this urgency about everything he did that was mildly baffling. The boy had zero chill, but he was still the cutest little brother a girl could ask for.

  He was also adorably overprotective. “He’s out there.” Bentley said this with a fierce scowl, his jaw clenched tight. “Want me to talk to him?”

  I held back a sigh. Sometimes I wasn’t sure who was taking this breakup harder: me, Rose, or my family. My mom and dad were convinced that he would change his mind in a matter of weeks, and Bentley… Well, I was a little afraid Bentley was hit the hardest by the change since he’d come to think of Caleb as the older brother he’d never had.

  I reached out and mussed his hair. He hated when I did that, and I needed him to be distracted right now. I was relieved to see his scowl fade in the face of exasperated irritation as he swatted my hand away.

  “Who’s out there?” I teased. Of course I knew who he meant.

  Bentley crossed his arms. “He’s just standing out there in our driveway, hovering like a freak.”

  “He’s probably just scared to face your sister,” Rose said.

  He nodded, looking way too old for his years. “He should be.” Bentley turned to me. “You gonna tell him off?” Before I answered, he continued, his voice filled with excitement. “Can I watch?”

  I let out a short laugh. “No and no.”

  I headed out of my bedroom before either Rose or Bentley could try and talk me out of it. I heard them protesting behind me as they trailed after me down the stairs to the front door. Rose was saying something about playing hard to get, and Bentley was muttering something about punching him in the nuts.

  I ignored them both, only stopped once I reached the door, where I turned to face them both, holding up a hand to make them stop.

  Once they fell silent, I drew in a deep breath. “Look, you guys, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But I’m not going to play games, and I’m definitely not going to resort to physical violence.”

  The stared at me blankly like I’d just spoken a foreign language.

  I sighed. “Look, Caleb and I have always been friends first. We respect each other. We care about each other. Not to mention…we’re teammates. I’ve got to talk to him.”

  They didn’t try to stop me, but that didn’t mean a voice in the back of my head wasn’t screaming at me to turn back. The moment I stepped outside into the hot and humid August air, I spotted him. He was hovering between our yards like he wasn’t sure whether he was welcome on our side of the divide any longer.

  “Hey,” I called out before I could cave to that annoying little weakness that wanted to avoid confrontation at all costs. I might have been a badass on the court and on the field, but in real life? Not so much.

  That was one of the reasons Caleb and I had always worked so well…we never fought. That thought, along with the hesitant look on his face, had me walking over to him with surer steps. This was Caleb. This didn’t need to be some big scene, and it was best if we got this initial conversation over with before practice anyway.

  No way did I want our first post-breakup conversation to be in full view of our entire team.

  “Hey,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts as I reached him. He wore a matching red T-shirt with an emblem of a lion in the corner. The intramural league in our town in Upstate New York wasn’t technically affiliated with the schools but since most people stuck with teams that played nearby, our team was basically just an offshoot of our school teams. During the regular soccer season, Caleb was the captain of the guys’ team, but I didn’t play for the girls’ team. I had enough on my plate with the intramural league and my basketball team.

  Soccer for Caleb was everything. For me, it was my outlet. My way of staying in shape and staying competitive during basketball’s off-season. Still, this intramural league? It had always been our thing. So seeing him wearing the uniform brought on a weird visceral reaction—it was bittersweet. A vivid reminder that we were still on the same team—metaphorically and literally—whether or not we were a couple.

  I gave him a small smile. “Did you need something?”

  Sure, I might have been trying to be mature about the whole thing but that didn’t mean I was going to make it totally easy on him. I deserved an apology, for the way he broke up with me, if nothing else. I widened my eyes, waiting for him to speak.

  “Yeah, uh…” He let out a loud exhale. “It’s good to see you, Hannah.”

  My smile grew. “Yeah, it’s good to see you, too.”

  I meant it. It was weird going from seeing someone every single day of your life to not seeing them at all. I didn’t want our whole school year to be like that. I didn’t want to go another day like that.

  I shifted from foot to foot and waited for him to speak. I waited for the apology that I knew had to be coming. He wouldn’t meet my eyes—too embarrassed, most likely.

  Good. He should be. A breakup text? Seriously?

  His eyes were trained on the logo on my T-shirt. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was eyeing my boobs. But I knew better. He looked distracted, not horny. “You’re going to practice?” he finally said.

  I blinked. That was so not the apology I’d been expecting. “Um, yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He glanced away and then back at the logo. He was looking everywhere but at my face.

  “We agreed to stay friends, right?” I said.

  He nodded quickly, and I watched with a weird, sinking feeling as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah. Right.”

  There was something he wasn’t saying.

  The apology, I hoped. But whatever it was, he was hesitating so much it made me uncomfortable just watching him. I was staring at the top of his close-cut dirty blonde hair and he was now fixated on my sneakers. I looked down at them too as if maybe there was something novel to be seen there.

  Nope. Just the same old Adidas I’d been wearing all summer.

  “Do you need a ride?” he asked.

  I stared at him. Was he serious? Did he just come over here to see if I wanted to carpool? That’s what we would have done—it wouldn’t have been a conversation, just a given. Of course we’d drive over to the practice field together. The fact that he asked…

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ll drive over on my own.”

  There was no way I was going to subject either of us to more of this awkward silence. Annoyance washed over me. He wasn’t going to apologize. Not yet, at least.

  I let out a huff of humorless laughter. “Okay,” I said slowly, already backing away. “Well, if that’s all you have to say—”

  “Hannah.”

  I paused mid-step, waiting for him to speak. Waiting for him to say…anything, really. At this point I’d settle for him asking me how my day was going. Heck, I’d take a comment on the weather if it meant not having to linger in this tense silence for another second. Instead, I watched him swallow. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “I’ll, uh…I’ll see you there then.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “See you there.”

  Chapter Two

  River

  The image on the screen kept freezing up so my brother’s face would get all distorted while he was talking to me. I’d have found it funny if it wasn’t so annoying. It wasn’t like I got to talk to Paxton often now that he was overseas with the Army, and almost never without my mom and dad hovering over my shoulder.

  We all missed my older brother, but this week, I needed him around more than ever.

  “When does soccer start up?” he asked, like he knew what I was thinking.

  “The intramural league started up two days ago.”

  “You still doing that?”

  I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? It keeps me in shape for the regular season.”

  “Yeah, man, but everybody needs to take some time off sometime.”

  “Not if they’re planning to go pro,” I said.
This was an age-old discussion, and one that lacked any heat. My brother was always trying to get me to lighten up when it came to soccer, but he’d never really understood. He’d always known he was going to follow in my father’s footsteps and join the Army.

  “River!” My father’s bellow had me flinching, and even Paxton flinched on his end of the video call.

  “You’d better go, man,” Paxton said.

  I raced around the room, snatching up my gear as I went. I’d hoped to get out of the house before he got home.

  “Take care of yourself, Pax,” I said.

  “Always do, little bro.” He might have been four years older but when he smirked like that, it was like looking in the mirror. We both had the same unruly dark hair—although his was now sheared short—the same blue eyes and strong jaw. Paxton and I even inherited the cleft in dad’s chin.

  Luckily for me and Paxton, we’d gotten everything else from our mom.

  “River, get down here,” my dad called from the bottom of the stairs.

  I groaned and Paxton laughed under his breath. “Sorry I can’t be there to run interference, man.”

  “Yeah, you and me both.” I hesitated in front of the screen before dropping into the desk chair. Screw it. Dad would be pissed about whatever he was pissed about whenever I got down there. Making him wait wouldn’t make his temper any worse…okay, that was a lie.

  But whatever, I missed my brother.

  “You still seeing Erin?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  He rolled his eyes. “That chick Dad was giving you a hard time about last time I called.”

  Oh, that Erin. “Dad just didn’t like that I’d had the nerve to have fun during my summer break. If it were up to him, I’d be working at the gas station all day every day and staying home to study every night.”

  Paxton didn’t try to argue. He’d always been the golden child in this house, mainly because he was the good one—he’d never once gotten a detention, and his grades had never been anything less than stellar. On top of that, he was all into Dad’s plans for his future.

  Unlike me he’d actually wanted to join the military out of high school.

  Me? Not so much. I had other plans, but my father didn’t want to hear it. All he cared about was me making money to help with the bills—which I did without too much moaning—and making sure my grades were up to snuff so I didn’t fail out.

  Why he cared so much about me graduating, I didn’t really know. As far as I knew, I could still enlist if I got my GED or whatever. It was probably a concession to Mom. She loved the idea of both her boys finishing school with straight A’s.

  At least one of us would be making that particular dream come true.

  “So you broke up with her because Dad was on your case for going out with her?” Paxton said. The guy was like a dog with a bone with his questions. He was worse than my mom when it came to prying into my love life.

  “No,” I drawled slowly. “I ended things with Erin because it had run its course.”

  Paxton let out a snort of amusement. “Run its course? Dude, you’d been hanging out with her for what…two weeks?”

  I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. That was the average length of my relationships. A little longer than most, actually. See, here was the thing. I liked girls. Girls liked me. But there was no time in my life for an actual relationship, and the two-week mark was when the girls I’d been hanging out with wanted to up our status to…well, something more than ‘hanging out.’

  Paxton shook his head in exasperation but my good-natured brother wasn’t one to be too judgy, no matter what his thoughts on the matter. “So who are you taking to homecoming?”

  I choked out a laugh. “What homecoming? They cut the funding again this year. No big parties for our class, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot.” Paxton shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll be out of there soon enough.”

  And off to college, I hoped. But the only way that was happening was if I got a full scholarship. This was a fact that went without saying. He knew very well what my plans were, and unlike my dad he actually encouraged them.

  My dad hollered up the stairs again, and this time I checked the clock by my bed. Perfect. If I timed it just right, I could get out the door with only the minimal amount of shouting. “I’d better go, man. Take care of yourself.”

  “Always do. Take care of Mom.”

  It was our standard way of saying goodbye so I just gave him a nod as I reached over and ended the call. Snatching up my gear, I headed down the stairs where my dad was waiting.

  “Where are you going?”

  He knew very well where I was going.

  “You need to help your mother around the house.”

  “I’ll help her when I get back,” I promised. I would, too. I’d been helping my mom with the grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning for years now. It wasn’t like she couldn’t do it herself, she was just sort of…fragile. Checked out, I guessed you could say. Always had been.

  But then, I’d tune us all out too if I had to listen to my dad rant and rave all day.

  Luckily for me, I got to get out.

  I started backing up toward the door, watching my father’s face turn red with anger as I openly defied him.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’ve got to run to practice, Dad. I can’t be late.”

  “Practice.” He all but spit the word. His face that looked so much like mine, so much like Paxton’s, all squished up with anger. He was always angry, it seemed. My mom thought his anger would fade when he left active service. If it did, I don’t remember, but it was back in full force the first time he was laid off. It only seemed to grow with each new twist and turn that life threw our way. “You still playing in that girlie league like a little kid?”

  “It’s an intramural team, not a girlie league.” I kept my voice soft, non-confrontational. I’d learned a long time ago that I could fight my dad or reason with him.

  He hated it when I was reasonable in the face of his irrational anger, and these days I lived to piss him off. Did it make my life harder? Probably.

  But it was worth it.

  He grumbled something about playing with girls. I found myself fighting a smile at the thought of my dad going up against one of my “girls.” He’d be on his butt in two seconds flat against Cara or Allison, my two best strikers.

  But yeah, sure. Keep talking trash about me playing with “girls.”

  “I thought I told you to drop that this year,” he said.

  He had. I didn’t.

  “You need to focus on work—”

  “Mr. Dillon agreed to schedule my hours around practices until school starts.”

  “And schoolwork,” he continued as if I hadn’t interrupted.

  “Dad, school doesn’t start for another two weeks.”

  “You could be—”

  “Getting ahead on the reading? Already done.”

  He stared at me and I had to resist the urge to smirk. See, the thing with my dad was—he could be an overbearing tyrant most days, but he was also predictable. It wasn’t hard to stay a step ahead of him.

  Once I’d started to view our lovely little squabble as a game, I’d gained the upper hand. Our sparring was the verbal equivalent of dribbling a ball, using some footwork to get to the goal line. My dad was that big brute defensive player that coaches who didn’t know what they were doing set in my path, thinking that sheer size and weight would stop me.

  It did not.

  It didn’t work on the field and it definitely didn’t work at home.

  “You should be focusing on your studies—”

  “I know, Dad. I am.”

  See? This was another reason I kept girls to a minimum. I needed to blow off steam, hang with friends, hook up with girls—I was a normal red-blooded male. But I knew that one whiff of trouble and my dad would regain the upper hand.

  And girls? They were trouble. If I got too
involved I’d forget the tightrope I was constantly walking. Work, grades, soccer, sleep. Eating fell in there somewhere too. I couldn’t afford to let any of those drop, and certainly not for some ill-fated high school relationship that would end in two years when I went off to college…or the Army. One way or another, I was getting out of this town, and far, far away from my father.

  I’d call my mom regularly, don’t worry. But my dad…I was ready to write him off the minute I got my freedom. In the meantime, I’d made a deal with the devil. The deal came about two years ago with some diplomatic assistance from my mom and Paxton over lasagna one night. My dad agreed to let me play on the school’s soccer team if I kept my grades above a C, kept my job at the gas station, and stayed out of trouble.

  I’d been doing both ever since, so he had no leg to stand on right now and he knew it. I hadn’t gotten into a single fight, I hadn’t broken curfew, or come home drunk, or had girls over when my parents weren’t home…

  Basically, I was living like a monk and all so I could keep playing soccer and hopefully—no, definitely—earn myself a scholarship.

  You know, if I didn’t get recruited to go pro first.

  I’m only half kidding. That’s the ultimate dream, but one thing at a time, right?

  A horn honked outside. My best friend, Tristan. Right on time. He’d come to grab the gear since my motorcycle wasn’t exactly ideal for hauling equipment.

  “Good chat, Dad,” I said as I clapped my hands together, walking backwards toward the front door. “Let’s do it again soon, yeah?”

  I was out the door before he could respond.

  Two years of impeccable behavior, a single existence, and nonstop hard work and I’d be out for good.

  Chapter Three

  Hannah

  I knew something was up the moment I showed up at practice.

  “Hey, Hannah!”

  I waved to Trent and Michael, friends who’d been on the team for years. I was greeted with smiles from everyone—most of whom had been on the team last year if not for many years. There were a few new faces but I recognized them from school and returned their smiles and waves.