Page 31 of Beautiful Defiance

“You’ll tell them jack shit,” he growls. “Leigh’s right. This is between me and her.” He steps forward and says in a low voice, “You win this time, but next bet, I decide what’s at stake.”

“Are you speaking of the skin off my back if I lose? Or how about my firstborn? Or is it my defiant soul you’re after?”

He chuckles under his breath. The other students and the substitute teacher lean in like they’re the Tower of Pisa.

“You’re weird.”

“Get used to it,” I say. “And don’t you dare make Weird into another nickname. Stick with Safari or Defiance, okay?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Hey, I thought you were sitting out tonight’s game?” I say in a quiet voice.

As far as I’m concerned, few people are aware of Seven’s failing grades and him getting benched.

“I overheard the girls talking in the bathroom. You’re playing?”

The girls spoke excitedly about how they couldn’t wait to watch Seven play. He’s so hot in his uniform.

“Coach and Principal Staudinger gave me a free pass. My only pass.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Wait a minute, this easy back and forth is too easy. I step back and say for everyone to hear, “Rock, paper, scissors, winner goes first?”

He nods. We chant, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.” His scissors cut my paper. Darn.

The other students and the substitute teacher line up against the wall. There are fifteen minutes before class ends. We’ll need to make this quick; otherwise, I’ll miss my bus.

Seven makes the first shot and waits for me to take his spot along the sideline before he hands me the ball. The point of the game is to make the shot from wherever the opponent made the shot.

If I miss the hoop, I earn the first letter. Whoever spells PIG first loses. I overshoot the hoop. Shooting from the sideline is my weak point, and Seven homes in on that.

The rest of his shots are done from the sidelines, resulting in the demise of my pride and the end to our game. The final bell rings, and everyone rushes out of the gym. Seven’s friends smack him on the shoulders.

Ginger somehow slips in between Seven and his friends and loops her arm through his, leaning into him and looking up at him adoringly. I want to puke in my mouth. Seven doesn’t spare me a backward glance. Instead, he does what he’s good at—being a jerk.

“See you later, Safari. Remember to stick with what you owe me.”

“If I don’t?”

“For real? I know where you live, Captain Underpants.”

Does he have a clue there’s a cartoon character by that name?

Nonetheless, his comment irks me. Just because I was wearing undies with Captain America’s face on my ass the night he took me to the emergency room doesn’t give Seven the right to make my crush on Chris Evans fair game.

I do something immature. I stick my tongue out at his disappearing back, then utter words I regret saying as soon as they leave my defiant mouth.

“Next time you stay over, put a sock on the snoring, Seven!”

---