Page 60 of The Sun
He traded me a twenty for a little plastic baggie. Bam Bam nodded toward the wooden lounge chairs dotting the shore. “Sit over there and take a hit with me?”
Some customers thought it was customary to smoke a bowl with the dealer. Some of them were paranoid and wanted the supplier to take the first toke to make sure it wasn’t laced. Bam Bam was one of the paranoid ones.
“Sure, man,” I said, heading across the sand.
As soon as my ass hit the wooden chair, Bam Bam passed me a pipe along with a lighter. I flicked the flint, and he watched intently as I moved the flame over the buds. I took a deep drag, held it for a second, then coughed while I gave him the bowl with the weed still smoldering.
“Good hit?” He grinned, placed the pipe to his lips, and pulled so hard his cheeks hollowed out.
When he tried to pass it back to me, I shook my head. “I’m good.”
“All right. I’ll be in touch with you later this week.” He strolled toward the pavilion with a cloud of pungent smoke billowing behind him.
The weed hit my system, and my heart rate kicked up just as that euphoric buzz crackled throughout my body. Folding my hands behind my head, I laid back on the lounge and closed my eyes. The muggy air wrapped around me, while the crashing waves morphed into some form of ancient music. I figured the ocean was one of the few things man hadn’t managed to totally screw up yet. Sure, there was the odd oil rig here and there, and the beaches were covered with hotels and condominiums, but when you sat right at the water’s edge and looked out, it had to be the same as it was thousands of years ago. Just sky and ocean and things that were so much bigger than me.
When I finally opened my eyes, the pale moon was overhead. My hand instinctively reached for the necklace tucked safely under the collar of my shirt. I skimmed my fingertip over the tiny metal prongs of the sun’s rays, wondering what she was doing. Hoping she wasn’t with him.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t kill me that she was dating someone, but I think it hurt more because that guy was the polar opposite of me. A rich kid her father would no doubt approve of. I loved Sunny, so I should have been happy she was with the kind of guy she deserved. But God, I fucking hated it. I hated that he could touch her and hold her. He went to dinner with her family and took her to parties. But what I hated more was that I had kissed her when she belonged to someone else. And I didn’t want to be that guy, but more than anything, I didn’t want him to be the guy who had her.
Groaning, I pushed up from the chair and started down the beach. When I reached the alcove area I used to bring Sunny, I decided God must really hate me. There she stood in the surf, wrapped up in the good-enough-guy’s arms.
I stopped dead in my tracks and watched, partly because I was a masochistic bastard and partly because I hoped she would turn around and see me. I wanted her reaction, but she was too consumed with Brandon to notice me.
My chest tightened, my jaw clenched, and I fought the wave of emotions pummeling through me when I headed toward the boardwalk. That spot was sacred to me. It was mine, and then it was ours. But now it was theirs.
Something about her being there with him crippled me. It was an accidental fuck you.
Brightand early the next morning I had six o’clock practice.Six a.m. practice!I almost wanted to knock Judah and Atlas in the head for talking me into walking onto the team.
The locker room smelled of bleach and stale piss, which did nothing but aggravate me further. “Why the hell are we practicing so early?”
Judah sat on the bench to lace up his cleats. “Coach said we’re less likely to keel over from heat stroke when it’s not a hundred degrees out.”
Atlas pulled his practice jersey on and then laid down on one of the benches against the cinderblock wall. “I’m tired.”
“Shouldn’t stay up all night fucking then,” Judah chuckled.
“Come on, Judah,” I said. “What girl’s gonna go for Atlas?”
“Valerie Beoudreax.” Atlas smirked while pretending to grope a pair of tits.
Those two had a one-track mind. I thumbed toward the exit on my way to take a piss. “Get out on the field.”
The door to the locker room swung open when I was at the sink. “I don’t know, man.” Ben dropped his duffel bag to the floor. “I’d hate to beat the guy up and then find out he’s not gay.”
“He’s gay. Look at him.” That was Thomas.
The hand dryer drowned out their conversation which I was fine with. I hated self-entitled pricks. Who cared if some Lockhart guy was gay?
Brandon shot a quick glance at me when I moved past him. For a second, I expected him to stop me. Confront me. Maybe it’s because I wanted a reason to hit him. Just once.
Thomas balled his shirt up and chucked it at Brandon. “He’s sick, man. You want some queer rubbing up on your junk during a game? I don’t want him grinding his dick in my ass crack during a tackle. Besides, he—”
The door closed behind me, and I squinted against the sun peeking up over the tree line. The sprinkler heads spun around with a click, click, click, as I made my way past the baseball grounds to the football field. A few of the guys tossed the ball around while the underclassman dragged out the red blocking pads, grumbling when they threw them onto the lawn.
Thirty minutes into practice, my sweat-slicked arms were covered in grass clippings.
Coach blew his whistle. “Let’s go. Scrimmage! One on one. Ball on the twenty-five. Offense going that way.” He pointed toward the far end zone.
