Fisher: You're alive! Holy shit, man, where have you been all summer?
London: I don't want to talk about it.
Fisher: You missed football tryouts. How am I supposed to play without my best friend?
London: I'm handling it.
Fisher: Want to come over and I'll catch you up?
London: I'm out front.
"Out of all the places you wanted me to drive you, Fisher Downs' house was not where I thought you'd have in mind," Riley prattles as she looks over the red rims of her obnoxiously big sunglasses.
I resist the urge to say the first thing on my tongue:Jealous?Fisher Downs is one of the most genuine guys around, but beyond that, we both know why she doesn't want to be here, which I'm hoping will play in my favor. Fish comes from old money.Willow Creek might be a small town, but it has its hierarchy and backwoods royalty, and Fish's family sits at the top. I know, without a doubt, Riley's snide comments are rooted in envy. If anything, her snarkiness now is because, in Fisher's world, she doesn't exist, and Riley Heron can't stand it when she's not the center of attention. I dig my fingers into my thigh as I slip my phone back into my pocket and remind myself I consciously made this choice. There will be no going back. I ripped the proverbial Band-aid off this morning. That was the hard part. The part that felt like I killed something inside of me, something I didn't know I had. My jaw tightens with my chest, and I swallow hard to push it out. What's done is done. Now I have to play my part.
"You don't have to stay. I haven't seen Fish all summer, and I wanted to get a rundown on how the teams are shaping up this year and see what I missed."
She sinks back into her seat and flips down the sun visor to open the mirror. "If you're worried about your position as quarterback…" She pulls out a lip gloss tube to reapply another thick layer to what already exists. "Don't be. Daddy said he would give you your position back at lunch."
That's not exactly what he said. He said I have a place if I earn it. The entire lunch, I questioned if I had made the right decision when I called Riley Heron. By the end of it, I had decided it didn't matter, but I did learn something. Coach Heron doesn't exactly enjoy his daughter's company either. That told me I could please him by taking up space in her life, because it accomplished two things: it pleased her and took away from the amount of time she had to nag him. However, that doesn't mean I plan to worship the ground she walks on. Riley might be the queen of the school, but I have a reputation too. I don't date, and I know she sees that as a challenge. She wants to be the first girl to break the trend, but what she doesn't know is that I'm counting on that. She'll put up with whatever I throw her way to earn a title, and for me, nothing will change.
I see Fisher open the privacy gate around the back, and I openthe door. "Stay or don't. This is where I'll be for the rest of the day." I don't wait around for her to respond. I don't care what she does. Riley Heron is here to serve a purpose, and today, she played her role. Now, she is free to go.
"London," I hear her call out as I walk toward Fisher, but I pay her no mind. I said all I had to say.
"Bro, tell me that's not Riley Heron, the coach's daughter," Fisher says, pulling me in for a pound hug while looking over my shoulder at the car parked on the street.
"The one and only," I say, stepping around him and making my way into the backyard, praying like hell I hear the sound of wheels peeling out instead of the slam of a door.
"Don't tell me she's the reason you couldn't bother to call your best friend all summer."
"Not exactly," I say as I begin to empty my pockets on the patio table.
"Okay, what the hell is going on with you? I feel like you're talking in code or some shit. Why aren't you saying what you mean?"
I know what he's asking, but I don't respond. I can't give him an answer I don't have. This past summer came out of left field. Never in a million years did I expect my father to pull a stunt like this. I thought he'd fight for me, and not only did he not stand his ground, he took everything, and now I feel like I've come home to nothing. I can't give my best friend answers I'm still seeking. I've spent most of the summer being angry and depressed. I thought coming home would feel better, but instead, I just get to add sadness to the lineup of shitty things I feel.
"I didn't call you because I couldn't. I didn't have my phone. My dad took it before he shipped me off."
His eyes widen with the gravity of my last words, catching him off guard. Luckily for me, we've been friends long enough that he knows how to read me, and he leaves it alone, but not before dragging his nail over the itch my brain can't scratch.
He puts his hands on his hips. "So, what do you have to sayabout that?" He gestures toward the front yard. "You're back, and what… Riley Heron is your girl? What happened to?—"
"Don't," I bite out.
"Nah, you don't get a pass on that one, London. I'm your best fucking friend, and in the years we've talked about anything and everything, Riley Heron has never made your list. We both know only one girl occupies space in your mind."
"Things change." I shrug and turn toward the pool. The sound of wheels squealing out front is music to my ears, and for the first time since I've come home, I feel like I've finally found favor with some deity.
"Not that much!" he says, his tone ringing with absurdity. "I know for a fact the girl you want wants you back."
"Not anymore," I say as I pull my t-shirt off and slip off my shoes.
"Wait, wait, wait," he says, cutting me off before I jump in. "We are talking about the same girl, correct? My sister's best friend and your neighbor, the one with blonde hair as bright as the sun and light brown eyes that reflect its flare, Laney Hart."
"Same girl." I try to keep my tone unbothered when I'm anything but after he quotes my words.
"Not possible. I watched her?—"
