Page 24 of The Riley Effect

I push my middle and forefinger to salute him as he skates. He laughs before turning to his right and saying something to Aaron. When his eyes are off me, I push my palm to my forehead and let out a sigh. Why the fuck am I dead set on always embarrassing myself when Jalen is around.

As Jalen settles into his spot at center ice before the start of the game, he flashes me one of his panty-dropping smiles. I sigh before offering him a smile of my own. I don’t know how much longer I can keep Jalen at arm’s length, but neither of us dorelationships, and I don’t want to be just a girl in his rolodex of hookups.

The Retrievers won 6-2 yesterday. Jalen and the rest of the starters didn’t play much, but the time he did spend on the ice, I was memorized. Jalen moves with the grace of a ballerina and hits with the force of a linebacker. Watching him play in person, I can see why he’s one of the top players in the country. I’ve always loved basketball because it’s a contact sport, but the physicality of Hockey is, well, it’s hot. I now understand the attraction to hockey players. They have to take out that pent-up aggression on someone.

“Yo, Ivy,” Indy says as she snaps her fingers in my face. “Are you ready to go? I lost you there for a minute.”

I follow Indy to the boys’ front door, and as she struts right through, I stop to gather myself on their front porch. I guess I really am doing this. My anxiety is starting to creep in, and I remind myself that this means nothing. I’m here because I promised Indy I’d be more spontaneous this year. This is just a movie night with friends. Nothing is going to happen. Marcus and Indy will be here.

Since my parents’ accident, silence has become my worst enemy, the downfall of so many good days. People think I keep busy because I am an overachiever with big dreams, but if I’m being honest, a large part of it is because the more I have on my plate, the less time I have to think about my past… or my future.

I chant the mantra I’ve been saying to myself for the last few weeks one last time before I move toward the front door.

I will not fall for Jalen’s charm.

I can control myself.

“Can ya now?” I jump. My eyes shoot to the door and see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at me.

I can feel my whole face heating, and the smirk Jalen is giving me tells me I’ve been caught. The floorboards of the boy’s dated front porch creak as I make my way to the door.

“I can!” The words come out so strained I don’t even believe myself.

Jalen stops me before I can sneak inside and joins me on the porch. He wraps me in a hug, and I relax into it. I take in his scent of cedar and pine.

He pulls away, leaning in for a kiss, but I am not expecting it. I gasp and drop my bag of very important snacks. Retrieving it quickly, I rise to my full height, Jalen’s lips landing on my forehead. I take a step back. It’s more like a stumble because I don’t know how to stand in the presence of this man.

Jalen must have some of the same internal struggles because I am pretty sure I heard him mumble something that included the words fuck, idiot, and smooth. He opens the door and motions for me to go into the house, and it’s not until I pass him in the doorway that I realize that the kiss was meant for my lips and not my forehead. Jalen is still mumbling when we get in the house and I can’t help but poke fun at him.

“Is this the dirty talk I hear so much about? Because honestly, I think it needs some work.” I joke.

I step into the entryway and then turn and give Jalen a chaste kiss on his cheek. His eyes soften, and before I turn to walk down the hall, I give him a wink.

15

Jalen

What the fuck was that! When did I become the rambling buffoon from an early 2000s rom-com? The one that’s trying to land the girl that is clearly out of his league. I’m not sure why she keeps agreeing to spend time with me, especially when I can’t talk in full sentences.

I’m still trying to decipher what happened on the front porch when I find Ivy admiring the pictures that line the hallway leading to our living room.

“When were these taken?” she asks with a giggle.

“Freshman year. We were at the mall, and JCPenny was having a sale on group photos, so we went and found the mostridiculous outfits we could find and got pictures taken. We passed them out to our teammates and coaches and hung one in the locker room.”

I point to the one we took right before Halloween my freshman year, Byron’s even in it because he was up to visit for his official commitment to Westvale.

“Marcus, Aaron, and myself have lived together since freshman year. The first year, we took them right when all the costume shops popped up for Halloween, so we decided to dress like the cast of Austin Powers. I, of course, took the coveted role of Austin Powers. Marcus and Aaron were Dr. Evil and Mini-Me. We forced Byron to be Mr. Bigglesworth because it wasn’t a representation of the Austin Powers franchise without the hairless cat.”

As we make our way down the hall, we take a moment in front of each of the group shots. For our Sophomore year’s photo shoot, we decided to go all in on the JC Penny stereotype and dressed in the worst 90’s fashion we could find. Junior year, we really went for the shock factor and went with Victoria’s Secret Angels. That is the only one that isn’t hanging in the locker room. Coach Stevens says it was too risque. I think it’s very tasteful. We stop at the last two pictures. “We just got these back” I smile sentimentally at the two photographs. “We had to do one last funny one, so we all dressed up as Coach.”

The first photo is us dressed like the sixty-year-old who gets paid to yell at us. We’re all donning different colored polo shirts tucked into nylon windbreaker pants and some form of dad sneakers. Stevens has quite the collection ranging from Nikes to New Balances.

But the last picture is my favorite. It is all of us in our Westvale jerseys. I run my finger over the frame of the second photo. It was my idea so we all would have something a littlemore serious to remember all the hard work we put into our four years at Westvale University.

When we finally make our way into the living room, the scent of fresh popcorn reminds me of the bag of candy Ivy brought. I hastily grab the bag from Ivy and pour it out onto the coffee table.

If the candy comes in the little boxes you get at the movie theater, it’s on this table. I sort through the SweeTARTS and M&M’s to find the dark blue box I hoped Ivy would buy.

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