Page 6 of Saving the Halfback

Lachlan had a reputation at this school; most stayed clear of him or were afraid. However, I would always remember him as the sweet-boy-next-door kind of guy. His blond hair and blue eyes had always been welcoming and warm to me. He used to be the soft one of the group. The one who we would protect from stuck-up bullies and even wayward comments from adults. All of us used to be protective of Lach.

Now, he was different. The first year of high school, he didn’t transfer with us; he spent it in juvie. Everyone said he killed some guy, but I never believed those rumors. Whenever I’d tried to visit him at the facility, he’d refused to see me. So, I’d received the message, loud and clear—stay away.

From a distance, I’d watched him change into the guy before me now. His warm eyes had turned cold, his softness disappearing into sharp features. Last year, he added the lip piercings and rings on his fingers, and there was now a tattoo peeking up above the collar of his shirt on his chest.

In the split second his gaze met mine, I thought I saw a glimmer of the warmth that had once been so familiar, before the teacher caught our attention and he turned away. Lachlan was a different person, just like Chase was…just like I was. We’d all grown apart, and maybe I had to let it go. Let them go.

“Bailey,” Nolan said.

“Sorry, Bailey. I didn’t know your name.” Mrs. Kendricks smiled. In addition to art, she also taught drama and choir, all of which were subjects I didn’t exactly excel at. So, I wasn’t surprised she didn’t know my name. “Can you find a table to join? There should be four tables of four and one table of three.”

I grabbed my bag and moved toward a table of two as a few other students also moved around, stopping when I felt a tug on my strap. “Sit with us,” Nolan said. I nodded, not knowing how I could say no to him. I slid into the seat between Lachlan and Nolan, just as Lachlan put his backpack in the chair next to him, giving a look to the girl who almost sat down, which caused her to turn and walk to the next table.

As the class settled down and everyone took their seats, Mrs. Kendricks explained how these would be our seats for the rest of the term, then went over our goals for the next few weeks.

I had trouble hearing her, though, as the sound of rushing blood filled my ears, my skin prickled with heat, and I found it hard to breathe. Lachlan was so close to me that, if I leaned ever so slightly, I would likely be touching him. I held still, though.

What should I say to him?How was life in the slammer? Why didn’t you ever let me visit or respond to my letters?I could—well, I didn’t want to, but I could—remain silent and just enjoy being close to him without opening my mouth and potentially ruining things with him, like I had with Chase.

Ugh.Time for change, Bails. But it was so much easier staying in the ghost-like comfort zone I had created.

Stealing some confidence from within, from the old me, I glanced over at Lachlan and was surprised to see he was already staring at me. “Hey,” I whispered. I held the air in my lungs, afraid that, if I released it, I would lose him.Please don’t hate me,I silently begged.

“Bailey.” My name was a whisper on his lips, and warmth flooded his eyes. With a gentle smile, he suddenly wasn't the guy people feared to cross paths with. I was hit with the memory of my first football practice when we were kids. Everyone had been avoiding me because I was a girl and, apparently, a plague. He’d invited me to warm up, throw the ball back and forth. He would confront anyone who called me names, but for years to follow, I’d been the one looking out for him. Beating up anyone who picked on him. Lach was always a target for kids in elementary school. This Lachlan didn’t need a protector anymore, but he still gave me that feeling he had the first time I met him—acceptance.

As I relaxed into my chair, somehow knowing Lachlan and I were going to be okay, the teacher began handing out art kits to share out our tables. She explained that we were just exploring the tools in our bins today and we could use the period for free expression, though she wanted something handed in by the end of class to gauge our skill levels.

“Do you know each other?” Nolan asked.

Lachlan’s arm brushed against mine as he reached for the art kit, or rather box, and began sifting through it. “We go way back. Bailey is from my hometown.” His voice settled something deep inside of me, like I had been waiting so long to hear it. Lachlan winked at me, and I bumped him back with my shoulder. “Nolan has been practicing with the team all summer,” Lachlan said, filling me in.

“I didn’t realize you were still playing,” I said, which was a lie, I knew he was on the team, I had seem him walking aroundwearing his jersey on game days. I didn’t want him to know how much I had been watching him.

“Have you not seenanyof our games?” he asked, and I was almost ashamed to say I hadn’t. There was always something going on. When I didn’t answer, he continued the conversation. “Do your parents still have the farm?”

“Yes, we expanded, actually. Dad bought another two hundred acres across the creek.”

“What?” Nolan stared at me. “You have a farm…like a legit moo cow farm?”

Had he not heard Hadley call mefarm girl?

I laughed. “Yes, a moo cow farm.” I pulled out a piece of paper from the kits, letting Nolan and Lachlan take one each.

After having to rely on gossip alone for information on Lachlan over the last few years, I had so many questions for him. Why didn't he let me visit when he was in juvie? What really happened to him? Why did there seem to be a rift between him and the others? I’d seen him talk with Chase on occasion but never around Ethan. But I wouldn’t ask. So, instead, I fell into easy banter with Nolan and Lachlan.

Lachlan wasn’t like me and Nolan—he was an artist at heart. I’d never seen that part of him when we were younger.

“Can you pass the black pastel?” he asked me.

“Pastel…pastel…here you go.” I grabbed a black stick and passed it to him.

Lachlan smiled. “That would be charcoal.”

“Right. Charcoal…hmm, pastel.” I dug through the tray.

“Bailey, you have no idea what you’re looking for, do you?” he asked, showing pity on me.

“Not. A. Clue.”

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