Page 64 of Kickoff

“Mase, I’m having a great time tonight. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Thanks for agreeing to go with me.” I kissed the top of her head when she nestled herself in my arms like she belonged there.

And for the first time after ages of chaos, I felt at peace. I enjoyed the sensation of our bodies touching, of our breaths mixing. My heart pounded in my chest, and I had no idea how to tell the girl in my arms I was so terribly gone for her. If she felt the hard part of me pushing against her stomach, she made no move to distance herself. There were things I could conceal, like my feelings, and some I couldn’t, like how my body reacted to her closeness.

“Can you tell me why we’re doing this again?” Melinda asked from the other side of the door as I tried the shirt on and adjusted it in front of the mirror. Since we had gone to Homecoming together three weeks ago, we’d been spending more time with each other. Alone. I had a playbook full of excuses to knock on her door every chance I got. Math tutoring, figuring out a recipe, her wi-fi password because mine would act up—not really, but she didn’t know I had unplugged the router before coming over—a laundry disaster, her opinion about anything even when it didn’t really matter. I often went to see a movie by myself so I could catch sight of her the nights she worked at the theater. That was how lame I had become. And still, I had no regrets because it meant I saw her more frequently.

“Because you can’t resist spending a day with me, duh.”

I imagined her rolling her eyes, the gesture typical of her when we were together.

I exited the dressing room and fastened the last button. Melinda was sitting in a plush chair, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink-taupe knitted cardigan, surrounded by mannequins wearing colorful suits.

I adjusted the cuffs in front of the mirror and pointed to my phone in her grip with my chin. “Have you found the picture I told you about in there? I swear, Rusty really dressed like that to go on a date. It was epic. I can’t believe the girl thought he was being cute.”

I spun around to look at her, and our eyes locked. A weird expression shadowed her face. She discarded my phone on the seat next to her like it had burned her hands and brought her focus back to me.

“I can understand why she said that. He really went out of his way to impress her. Seriously, it’s not every day that your date dresses up like the main character of the most romantic movie ever made, which happened to be her favorite movie too. I can see the appeal.” Her gaze returned to my discarded phone for a split second, and she winced before staring back at me. “Yes, he looks ridiculous,” she continued. “But hey, if he landed a second date, then maybe it was all worth it, no?”

“Maybe. Anyway, back to what matters. We’re friends and I need a new shirt for tonight and I don’t know which one to get. Therefore, I need a girl’s opinion...aka…yours. Spending the day together is just a bonus.”

“Ugh, you only befriended me so I would help you dress nice and score a hookup later?”

An uneasy sensation prickled my chest. I hated the fact Melinda still thought I was using her to sleep with another girl. I invited her to come with me today under the pretense of shopping because I wanted us to spend a few hours together. I rang her doorbell, begging for her help. Here we were, at the mall an hour later, as I tried on a bunch of shirts when, in reality, I needed none because my closet was already full of them.

I feared if I told her about my intentions, she’d freak out and refuse to play along. Like all the times I’d invited her to dinner or to watch a movie and she had turned me down, stating it sounded too much like a real date and it would be awkward.

So, this friendship was the only excuse for us to spend actual quality time alone outside of school.

“Come on, Mel, I’m not a heartless jerk. Gimme more credit than that. I wish you were not working tonight so we could go together.” I shrugged, acting as nonchalant as possible. “This banquet is important to me, and we had fun at the dance a while back. All the guys will bring dates. And I’d prefer you were mine.”

“Mase, don’t say things you don’t mean. You don’t want me at your football thingy. Open the contacts on your phone. I’m sure there’s a list of potential dates right there for you to choose from.”

I spun to face her. “That’s where you’re wrong. I told you last week I wanted to invite you. It’s more fun when you’re there; otherwise, I have no one else to butt heads with, and things get old superfast. And Paige will be there. I’m sure she too would love your company.”

She fidgeted with the label of the shirt in her lap, the only one that had passed the test so far. “Well, I’m working until ten.”

I slouched my shoulders. “I know…”

“I’m sure you can find someone else to accompany you. Mase, you’re resourceful.” She twisted her lips and looked away as she suggested it. Did the thought I’d invite another girl weigh heavy in her stomach too?

“Nah. I’ll go by myself. It’s fine.” I turned around to avoid her gaze. “Is red my color?” I asked, tugging at the shirt I was still wearing and doing my best to change the topic.

“Mase, all those fit you. I still think the navy blue looks the best. Bonus point because it matches the Bears’ colors.”

“Sold.” I locked myself in the dressing room and sighed, dragging my palms over my face. I was so out of my usual game with this girl, and I had no idea why. “Let me change,” I said through the door, “then we’ll go and grab a bite. My treat.”

Her soft chuckle filled the silence. Despite myself, a smile curled my lips up. “Mase, we had breakfast like an hour ago.”

I slipped off the shirt and put my T-shirt and hoodie back on. “What can I say? I’m hungry. I’m a growing boy, Mel. I need more calories.”

“I’m just gonna have iced tea.”

“Suit yourself, but you only ate a yogurt and some granola earlier. You must be starving by now. I’ll order enough stuff so when you can’t resist the intoxicating smell of Thai food and change your mind—I’ll make sure you do—you’ll be forced to eat from my plate.”

I joined her, and we walked side by side to the register. I paid for the shirt and pulled at her hand, leading her toward the food court, intertwining our fingers. She didn’t remove her hand from mine, and the realization sent zings of happiness all through me.

My phone chimed with a text message. I eyed the screen and felt like throwing up. Four unread messages from three different numbers stared back at me, and none of them made me happy.