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Dane pulls out two of the work horses and places on the reins before we hop up on them bare back and head out to a trail we made when we were twelve. We absorb the sunshine glittering through the trees and inhale the fresh air.
He’s twisting his lip, so I know he’s got something on his mind. I wish that something is me, but he just doesn’t think of me as anything more than a best friend.
“Anything wrong?” I ask, hoping he admits he can’t live another day without me as his girlfriend.
He stops and turns his horse so that we’re facing each other. “Last night, I saw my mom and Coach Cappitano talking. My mom touched his arm like I’ve seen her do hundreds of times to guests, but he seemed shocked. Then Dad stormed over, and the three of them had words. Mom walked off before Dad and Coach had a few more words. The whole interaction was weird.”
“Just ask them about it.”
“Easier said than done. Dad’s not happy about Coach Cappitano being named head coach. He thought the Stallions athletic department would choose Dad’s choice, but they chose Cappitano over Dad’s guy. But Dad and Coach played together for a couple of years. None of this makes sense. Why do my parents have to be so involved in my life?”
I drop my chin in astonishment. “What did you just say? Are you kidding me? At least you have parents. Do you know what I would give to be loved like your parents love you?”
“Lettie, I didn’t mean?—”
I cut him off, tears welling behind my lids. And I know damn well they’re ready to flow.
“All I’ve wanted in my whole life, truly wanted, was my parents. But that’s not what I got, Dane. My parents prefer cocaine and meth over their daughter. So be fucking grateful.” And my heart cracks just a little more.
He jumps off his horse, holding the leather rope, and reaches for me. I let him slide me off my horse into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Lettie. God, I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, tucking my nose into his Minions t-shirt. And that’s all it takes for my best friend to soothe the heartbreak that still haunts me.
Chapter Two
DANE
Watching her now takes me back.
The moment she walked into my garage for our tenth-grade experiment, something changed. I saw her in a whole new light, no longer wanting to be best friends but something more. Someone I could kiss and make blush.
Mr. Christy paired us together for a science project. He gave us a list, and Lettie chose the “Bouncing Balls” project. I’ll never forget how she looked at me and said, “We should do this one. Because you know… you like to bounce balls.” Her laugh somehow struck me differently than it had in the previous ten years. It zipped through me, making me question what the hell I was thinking.
Why was I imagining my balls slapping against her skin with her green eyes staring into mine, wanting me to be her first? She wasn’t being flirtatious. She was being Lettie. Open. Funny.
Lettie smacked my arm, bringing me back to reality. “Dane, I’ve finished recording the temperatures of the balls. It’s your turn to drop the balls so we can see how high each one bounces.”
“Sorry, I was thinking about the basketball tryouts.”
She furled her lips and if I translated that to Lettie speak, it meant liar.
I would venture to say Lettie and I know more about each other than any pair of best friends. But one thing she couldn’t know were these con feelings I was having for her.
Lettie shook her head as I dropped the ball that had been sitting in the sun, and it bounced thirty-five inches. The one in the freezer falls to the ground after only three inches. Next, I released the ball that was in the microwave, then the one that was soaking in hot water.
Lettie’s brown glasses sat on her nose. Her forearm held the notebook while she charted the results with her pink gel pen. I remember it like it was yesterday, having been the first day my stomach flipped over Lettie.
Her hair sprung a leak, and a blonde tendril fell by her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear, showing off her gold horse earrings I gave her for her thirteenth birthday. My mom said I should buy her something nice, and teenage girls love jewelry, so during one of my basketball tournaments in Lexington, we went to a little store, called Alternative Jewelry. It wasn’t one of the fancy diamond stores. It offered eclectic and one-of-a-kind custom jewelry.
When I spotted the pair of horses, my mind was made up. To make them special, he had the edges beveled.
When I gave them to her, her eyes lit up with excitement. “It’s the best birthday present ever,” she said, hugging my beanpole frame.
Lettie wore the earrings nearly every day but when she exposed her ears the day we worked on the project, I noticed how small her earlobes were. We’d been best friends since we were six years old. I thought I knew everything about her and here I was, ten years later, discovering new details.
Subconsciously, my fingers touched her ear, and she laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Your horse was on his back. Just turning it around.” My voice squeaked and strained. Like any other sixteen-year-old, I couldn’t stop the rated R thoughts running through my mind about my best friend.
