Page 71 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

He doesn’t say anything, holding his tongue as if he’s trying to figure out what the fuck I’m talking about.

I better help the poor guy.

“Did you think I was at Coach Johnson’s place for no reason?” I offer as my voice dips further. “Who else was going to take our drunk Mikayla home, hmm? It certainly wasn’t you, was it? You got upset we were all laughing and drinking that you stormed out. Damian even had the guts to ask you to join us.”

“You think I need your sympathy?” He practically spits in my face. “I don’t need any of your help to initiate shit with my girl.”

“We need to get one thing straight.” I get to the point because “my girl” needs to stop. “Maybe you believe the friendship we had was but a waste of your existence, but we still care, Jayce. We’re not holding grudges just because things didn’t work out five years ago. Yet you’re still carrying that same level of anger that we all left behind. As if those open wounds never pucking healed. You wanna keep all that suppressed inside you? Let it eat you alive and force you to remain in the past, fine. Do that. However, you’re going to leave Mkaykay out of it,” I emphasize first before quietly adding, “And she’s not your girl, Jayce.”

“She will be when I ask her—”

“We’re back together.”

My words shut him up while we stand there in complete silence.

He thinks I’m joking. Those green eyes of his are staring at me like I’m pulling off some type of prank. He’s waiting for me to cower at his intense stare. To admit that I wouldn’t be capable of doing that.

Claiming what I know he wants.

It’s a shame he doesn’t want to acknowledge my growth. That I’m no longer a boy who doesn’t know where he stands in life. That’s what happens when you experience someone’s death before your eyes. Realize that you’re playing games with this privilege called life, while others don’t get the same opportunity to be on this earth as you do.

If you don’t grow up and fight for what you want, one day, you’ll be left behind, lying on your deathbed while viewing the list of regrets you wish you didn’t have.

“I asked for another chance… and I got it.” Every word that leaves my mouth is firm. There’s no underlying fear, hesitation, or stuttering uncertainty like there used to be.

“She’s playing with you,” Jayce grumbles and tries to laugh it off. “YOU. The scaredy cat, soft ass, who can’t even put up a fight. What? Do you think because you’re all buff and shit that you’ve changed? That because you got a six-pack from that firefighter training and bulking up that you’re the better choice over me?”

“You know, it’s never been a competition between you and me,” I mutter.

I don’t flinch when he slams his other fist against the door, blocking me off. His eyes are scorching with anger, but I still don’t see the need to react to it.

He hates that even more.

“If that was the case, we never would have lost our crew, now would we?”

I sigh but stand my ground, purposely leaning in until we’re barely centimeters apart.

It makes him freeze up.

Our closeness.

The reminder of what we could have had if he just faced the elephant in the room.

He never will.

Jayce can’t admit what he wants.

Admit that we could have had something.

The tension between us grows as I wait for him to lay more insults my way, but I know he can’t when we’re this close.

He’s too afraid I’ll kiss him.

“She loved both of us.” The words are spoken so softly, yet it’s loud between us.

A reminder of the past.

“Don’t lie to me that you didn’t see it,” I practically beg as I let him see my emotions. The conflicting hurt I felt from all that bullshit. “If you want to act blind, go ahead, but I know you felt that shit down to your very soul. You knew what we had, what could have blossomed from it, but you were scared.”

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