Page 88 of Drifting

That’s it!

I turn around with fire in my eyes. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to shut it for you. I would think, with how much trouble your friends are in, that you’d learn to mind your own damn business. If you do, you might last longer than they did.”

A guy sitting beside her leans in. “I’d listen to her, Jasmin. She slugged Evan Ryan. He has a broken nose and two black eyes for it.”

Jasmin’s eyes burn with hatred. “I can’t wait when Carrie knocks you down a peg.”

“She already tried, honey, and she lost.” I turn back around.

“Don’t let her upset you, Beautiful.” Cam bumps his arm against mine. “She’s just jealous of what you have that she doesn’t.”

“What do I have that she doesn’t?” I have to admit, I’m curious. She’s gorgeous, athletic, and fashionable. I feel like a mouse beside her.

He gives me a devilish smile. “Me, of course.”

I shake my head. I should have known. I can’t help but smile. Of course, he’d say that.

With the game about to start, I focus on the field, but my eyes catch movement a few rows down and to the left.

Mom waves up at me, Peter on the bench beside her.

My mouth falls open. He came to a game. I hope they didn’t see the fight. I return her wave, and they go back to watching the game.

Cam’s eyebrow shoots up. “Is that Peter and your mom?”

I lean close to his ear. “Yeah, he told Nick he wants to change.”

Beside me, Paige suddenly cringes.

“Are you all right?” I demand, searching around to make sure someone didn’t throw anything at her.

Her eyes don’t leave the field. “Yeah, Sam just got hit hard, is all.”

“I think Little One has a crush.” Cam bumps her, and she blushes.

She’s been talking a lot to Sam in school.

A while later, I look at the scoreboard to see we’re winning fourteen to seven. It’s almost halftime, and our offense is on the field.

I spot Luke. As the quarterback, he’s easy to pinpoint. He shouts out numbers and points left. Nick stands off to Luke’s right. I find Mav over by where I think the wide receiver should be. Dom, with all his muscles, isn’t too hard to find.

I lean into Cam. “Mav’s number eleven, right?”

I know what numbers are on the back of my shirt, but the girl at the store didn’t tell me who they each belonged to.

“Yep, and number twelve in the tight end position is Dom.”

Sam snaps the ball to Luke. He falls back, looking for someone to throw to. Way down the field, Mav’s open, but it’s an impossible throw. Luke’s about to get sacked, and everyone screams at him to throw the ball. As he throws it, everyone in the stands jumps to their feet and silence falls as they hold their breath, waiting to see if Mav catches it.

“Did he catch it?” I yell.

I can’t see with everyone standing in front of me. Damn, I hate being short. I peer at Cam’s face, hoping it will tell me something. His mouth is open, and his eyes are glued to the field.

Standing on my seat, I jump onto Cam’s back. He stumbles forward before catching his balance and hoisting me higher.

On the field, Mav jumps into the air, and with just the tips of his fingers, he brings the ball to his chest before he gets tackled in the end zone.

Everyone screams.

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