Page 149 of Broken Ties (Rixon High 4)

Aaron

“I want to dance,”Zara whined for the third time since we sat down at the cluster of tables filled with football players.

The dance committee had done a good job of making the gym look like the Rixon Raiders had puked all over the place. Blue and white balloons, streamers, and confetti littered every surface, coordinating with the banners hanging above the stage.

“So go dance,” I said, sipping the spiked drink Dylan had managed to get for me.

Coach would kick my ass six ways to Sunday if he knew my drink was more vodka than lemonade. But it was the only way I could stand to be here, although the liquor barely touched the disappointment curdled in my stomach.

Homecoming.

It was supposed to be my night. I was supposed to be here celebrating a win over Fenn Hill, and good news from the Iowa recruiter. Instead, I was shouldering a loss that was my fucking fault and the knowledge that when it counted most, my chance had slipped through my fingers.

The recruiter had called Coach Ford last minute, apologizing that he wouldn’t be able to make it out to see me. Said he’d try to rearrange.

Try.

You didn’t try for a recruit you wanted on your team. You made it happen. You moved fucking mountains to work it out.

In my gut I knew. I knew that come next week there’d be the call that would see my dreams go up in smoke. Because the other piece of news I’d learned only minutes before walking out on the field—Connecticut didn’t want me either.

Some fucking Homecoming.

“Fine.” Zara gave me an indignant huff. “If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone who will.” She scanned the table, zeroing in on Quinn. “You, let’s go.”

“M-me?” He stuttered, his wary gaze going to mine.

I shrugged. “Have at her.”

Zara shot me a scathing look, but I was beyond caring, the vodka swimming in my veins numbing me to everything. The disappointment. The noise and lights. The soul-crushing weight of expectation and shattered dreams.

“You need to lay off the vodka,” Cole said, dragging his chair closer to me. “If Coach realizes—”

“If you’re going to breathe down my neck all night can you do it from somewhere else?”

“Aaron, come on, man. This isn’t you. I know you’re—”

“You know nothing, Kandon. So please do me a favor and keep the fuck out of it.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He stood up. “I’m going to get some food.”

Like I could eat.

My stomach was hollow.

I was fucking hollow.

I drained my drink and motioned to Dylan for a refill. “Maybe you should take it easy,” he said.

“Maybe you should—”

“Aaron,” Ezra loomed over me. “You need to rein it in. Do you want to leave?”

“Coach expects me to stay until they make the announcements.”

Like I gave a shit about being Homecoming king. A shitty plastic crown wasn’t going to help me become a Panther or a Hawkeye.

My fist clenched against my thigh and I had to fight the urge to kick the chair across from me. I was done.

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