Page 24 of Score to Settle
I know how stupid it is to still be caught up on something that happened in high school, but that one moment—how Jake treated me, how he stomped on my heart and my confidence—has left an imprint on my entire life. I put myself on the line giving Jake that article and suggesting we meet. When he made a joke of it, it destroyed whatever faith I had in boys—and then men—and in myself. From that point on, I allowed men to treat me badly in relationships—to put me down and cheat on me—because I didn’t think I deserved any better. Because I didn’t have the confidence to walk away. I’ve been single for so long, I can’t even remember what it is to go on a date. It took me a while to realize it, but now I know it was all because of Jake.
“He has no idea it was me who wrote the article he plastered all over school,” I continue. “I know it was stupid to give it to him, and thank God I didn’t put my name on it, but?—”
“It wasn’t stupid, it was sweet. You were such a nerd, Harper. A very lovable nerd. I can’t believe we were even friends. Why the hell was someone as cool as me friends with you?” she teases.
“Because Serena was always at cheer practice and I let you copy my homework.”
“Oh yeah.” She pauses again for a beat. “And you’re sure he doesn’t know you were the girl he humiliated?”
“Not unless you told Chase I wrote the article. And Chase told Jake,” I reply.
“No way. I’d never sell out your secrets to a boy.”
I smile. “I know you wouldn’t.”
“I still can’t believe Jake was such a dick about it,” Mia says.
“Seriously?” I ask incredulously.
“Maybe he’s changed.”
I grit my teeth. I can’t deny Jake’s been a gentleman this week. Even in the pool, I swear I was checking out his body way more than he was admiring mine, but that doesn’t mean he’s changed.
“Hello?” I cry. “What about the cheerleader thing and about a million other stories like it?” Even as the words leave my mouth, I find myself wondering how much of what I’ve read about Jake over the years is true. I know for a fact the story on Sunday about his wild Saturday night was all lies. But Jake still hasn’t told me what happened in the parking lot last year. All I know for sure is that there’s something to the story. Every time I mention it, he throws his walls up and shuts me out, despite the ground rules of our truce.
“I’m not saying you should fall in love with him, Harp.” Mia doesn’t say “again” but it’s there in her voice and I’m reminded of the countless hours I spent lying face down on her bed, crying into a pillow as my heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces. “But,” she continues, voice teasing, making me smile, shoving thoughts of high school out of my head, “you could fuck his brains out. That man has total BDE.”
“BDE? Dare I ask?”
“Big Dick Energy.” Mia cackles in my ear.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “I’m going now,” I say. “Goodbye, Mia.”
“Love you,” she replies like always.
“Love you, too.”
I slip my phone in my pocket, somehow managing to smile at Mia’s comments and still feel angry at the memories from high school. Nearly one week in and I didn’t think spending time with Jake would be this hard. He can be easygoing and funny, and when we’re getting along, I forget he’s the same boy who acted so callously. It’s like I’m doing such a good job pretending to be on his side, I’m almost starting to believe it myself.
At the entrance to the skybox a security guard checks my pass before waving me through with a bored nod. The space is decked out in plush leather couches, a fully stocked bar, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the field and the fans taking their seats. It feels a long way from the rickety bleachers I sat on as a teen, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of Jake as he raced down the school field.
There’s a muted buzz to the room. It’s nothing like the feeling of being among the fans as I walked into the stadium and I almost regret not being in the heart of it all, but there’s no beating the view as I grab a soda and make my way to a seat at the front of the box. The sugar from the drink gives me an instant boost and I shrug off the exhaustion of the day as the Stormhawks burst from the tunnel. I spot Jake’s number 80 jersey and a whole new kind of buzz hits me. He’s got his helmet under his arm, waving to the fans with a wide grin.
It’s been a long day of travel after leaving the ranch early with Jake. He was edgy and sullen from the moment he climbed in his truck, the familiar tension between us returning. I booked the same flight and hotel, but I’ve barely seen him since arriving at the airport when he joined the rest of his team. He’s had his headphones on most of the day, getting into whatever mindsethe needs to reach for the game. I know Tim told me to use Callie to book my travel, but it feels weird to ask someone to do something I can easily do myself, and if I’m honest, I don’t trust her not to book me a flight to an obscure airfield a million miles from where I’m supposed to be.
All around me, the stadium explodes with noise as the yellow Wildhorns take their position on the field and I try to remember Jake’s lessons this week, dragging me to the football field at the back of the ranch every evening before sunset.
It’s a game of territory and plays,he said, throwing me the ball.
Of course I dropped it, but after roaring with laughter, Jake was patient with me, teaching me to catch and throw alongside explaining the basics of the game. It made me think of an ex-boyfriend from my first year of college who wanted to play baseball rather than just watch it. He got so frustrated when I continually failed to hit the ball that he stormed off, leaving me to find my own way home from the batting cages. It was a relief when we broke up soon after. The guy had a habit of cutting me off, like nothing I had to say would be worth hearing. Last I heard, he was making a run for congress. With Jake, he’s happy to make a joke about my terrible throws, but he’s patient too. I’ve even found myself studying myFootball for Dummiesguide at night so I can answer Jake’s questions before he explains the answer to me with that teasing smile of his.
Below, the Stormhawks win the coin toss and choose to receive the football first. They take their positions and I feel my pulse quicken as anticipation hangs in the air. Winning their division and reaching the playoffs is nowhere close to secure, according to Jake. This would be an important win, and Jake was feeling the pressure this morning. He was in no mood to talk as we made our way to the airport. I can’t see him being any more willing if they lose tonight.
I try not to worry. When Jake walked into the ranch last Friday, an hour late and reeking of women’s perfume, I never expected we’d make the kind of progress we have in just a week. Last night, we walked the perimeter of the lake and I asked him how he got into playing football.
In case you haven’t guessed by now, Mama is a big Stormhawks fan. I think I always would’ve played football, but maybe not to the level I’ve reached. But Mama threw us into youth football as a way to focus after Dad died.He walked me over to the back football field and stared at it like it was the best view in the world.She knew we needed a distraction and a focus—a way to channel our grief. I don’t know if she planned for us to take it as far as we did, but I wouldn’t be surprised.He pointed to the field.When we weren’t at practice, we were out here or we were watching games on TV.
I stopped myself asking how his dad had died. The baby-step approach has worked so far, asking two light questions and one that digs a little deeper.
