Page 17 of Remember Us This Way

Glancing up at the field, I look over the few players who are already warming up while Coach Martin empties a bag of footballs onto the grass and double-checks the equipment.

It’s not as though they’re doing much right now, but from what I can tell, they’re alright. Not the best, but enough to possibly capture the championship with the right motivation.

A few of the guys are chatting among themselves as they stretch, and I can’t help but notice the way they keep glancing my way. Most of them have been hanging out with me today, trying to figure me out, but apart from games, not one of them knows what it’s like to train with me. Even Coach Martin is throwing me curious glances.

Liam continues talking shit, probably thinking he’s about to be my whole fucking world, when we finally reach the football field. Coach Martin meets my stare and lifts his chin. “Get warmed up,” he calls across the field. “I want to see exactly what you’ve got.”

Ah, shit. I should have known training wasn’t going to be easy today. Coach Martin is about to push me to my limits, and I can guarantee I won’t be walking away from this training session. It’ll be more like a hobble.

Liam and I sprint to catch up with the rest of the guys, and as we reach them, they fall in next to us, jogging down the length of the field. We reach the goalposts before making our way back, and as I run, I glance up at the school.

It’s nearly deserted. Most of the students ran out the moment the bell sounded for the end of class. There are only a few stragglers dragging their feet, probably on their way to their first after-school detention for the year.

Just as my gaze shifts back to the field, something catches my eye across the school. My brows furrow, finding Zoey fucking James slipping out of the library, her arms filled with books. She makes her way toward the student parking lot, her stare unnaturally focused in front of her, making it damn clear she’s doing everything she can not to look down here.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

All day she’s circled my head, and while it’s clear that she’s still the same girl I once adored, she’s changed. For the past three years, I’ve thought of her as that thirteen-year-old girl, but she’s a young woman now, and goddamn, it suits her. She’s even got the feisty attitude to go along with it. She’s always had a backbone, but there was an innocence about it—not anymore. She’s grown into her own and isn’t afraid to call out bullshit when she sees it. Though, that’s not going to work for me.

I watch her for a moment, every passing second winding me up further. I came here thinking I could read her perfectly, just as I always could. Only the comment Principal Daniels made after lunch has sat with me all afternoon.

She is a promising student who has been through a hell of her own.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I’ve known her since the day she was born. I know everything there is to know about her. I’ve watched her grow, been there for every bad day she ever had, kissed her knees when she scraped them up, and took the blame every time she was about to get in trouble. If something had happened to her, I would know. Hell, even if something went down over the past three years, my mother would have told me. She goes out of her way to inform me of every single thing Zoey does in the hopes I might have enough interest to bring her back into my life.

Clenching my jaw, I try to keep my curiosity at bay, only the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Yo,” I say to Liam, catching his attention before nodding toward Zoey. “What do you know about her?”

Liam scoffs. “Who? Zoey?” he asks, amusement in his tone. “Don’t waste your fucking time. She’s hot and all, but you can get easier pussy. She’s a frigid bitch. From what I hear, Cameron Landry was trying to pop that cherry all summer long and struck out every fucking time. It’s become a challenge between the boys. Everyone wants to fuck her just to say they did, but it’ll never happen. That bitch will die a virgin.”

Burning rage soars through my chest, infecting me from the inside out as I try with everything I have not to react to his bullshit. My hands ball into fists at my sides, and I try to remember what’s at stake here, try to remember Principal Daniels’ insinuation that I could be a violent person. I’m not, nor do I want to be, so why the fuck do I want to find this Cameron Landry asshole and tear his head clean off his body? I definitely shouldn’t want to throttle Liam just for talking about her like that.

Are they blind? Don’t they see how fucking precious she is?

Shit. I can’t be thinking like this. She’s not mine, not anymore.

I try to shake the vision of Zoey belonging with anyone but me from my mind. “I didn’t ask if the girl was sucking every cock in school,” I spit, unable to take my eyes off her, while secretly pleased that she seems to be one of the only girls in this school with even a shred of respect for herself. “I asked what you know about her.”

His face scrunches. “Does it really matter?” he grunts as we hit the top of the field and circle back around. “She’s a nobody.”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. She’s quiet as fuck. She’s not someone I pay attention to,” he murmurs, shrugging his shoulders. “Keeps to herself. Goes to the occasional party, but never looks like she actually wants to be there, and as far as I know, she’s hung out with the same bunch of friends since freshman year. Though I don’t get it, she’s nothing like the girls she hangs out with. They’re all dying to spread their legs, but she’s . . . I don’t know. She doesn’t seem interested. Maybe she’s got the taste for pussy.”

Fuck, I hate this asshole. It’s going to be a pleasure stealing his crown.

Either way, he hasn’t told me anything I didn’t already know.

Coach Martin calls us all in, and we take off toward him before creating a circle around him, listening as he gives the rundown of today’s session. Only I don’t hear a fucking word as I watch Zoey climb into her mom’s old Range Rover and start the engine.

She backs out of her spot, and a strange pang of guilt rests deep in my gut. I was supposed to be the one to teach her how to drive.

A heaviness settles into my chest as she drives away, and I try to focus on Coach Martin’s rundown, catching the tail end of his explanation. He excuses everyone to get started on the drill when he calls for me. “Ryan.”

Shit.

I stop and turn back just as the ball in his hands flies toward my chest. I catch it with ease, waiting to hear what he wants. “I’ve reviewed your more recent games. You’re a great player, Noah. However, those games don’t tell me shit about your limits. I want to see all you’ve got.”

“Yes, Coach,” I say, having expected as much.

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