Page 7 of The Score We Never Settled

His nostrils flare because the scenario is bright and still vivid in my head, too. I’m fully aware he wouldn’t be forgetting it soon, either. “You mean like when I caught you with Cruz again?”

I shake my head even harder, so much so that I feel like my brain is slamming against my skull. “I told you it’s not like that.”

“He keeps saying it’s like that.”

“Briggs, Itoldyou,” I argue weakly. “We fake-dated, so I could?—”

He slowly cocks his head to the side, menacing almost, as if I defended Cruz again, he’s never going to speak to me again. “Is that why he kissed you at Norris Abbott’s party? To show everyone you were fake-dating?”

“We were faking dating.”

“Why’d he kiss you then?”

Now, I’m scowling at him because I can’t even count how many different times Briggs and I have talked about this.

This boy is as infuriating as they come.

Cruz was the only guy in school that Uncle Ben liked. The only guy who just happened to play baseball with Briggs, so I could easily see his games. To go to every party, dance, socialevent, bonfire, you name it, Cruz was my ticket in, and Uncle Ben asked zero questions.

However, it began to take a turn for the worse because Cruz started to notice how much it bothered Briggs. Even though Cruz was already holding my hand in school to play his role as boyfriend, kissing my cheek to try to keep any suspicion down, he began doing it more.

And making a show of it.

I had talked to him dozens of times to stop messing with Briggs, he’d agree—for about a week or two—then go right back at it.

Especially when Uncle Ben started inviting him over for dinner.

Then there was the famous Norris Abbott party, where Cruz pulled me into his chest and had a full-on make out session with me.

In front of everyone.

Briggs included.

And that finally sent him over the edge.

“I told you what it was,” I reply in the calmest tone I can muster. “After you asked me a million times?—”

“And then I hit him, and you coddled him like the babyback bitch he is. I’m done with that shit, Layla. You don’t want me, fine, but?—”

“I never said that?—”

“But you won’t tell your uncle that you want me. You’ll date Cruz but not me. You’ll playbothof us but not risk his wrath?—”

“I’m not playing both of you. I want you, Briggs.”

“Not enough. And this weird in-between thing we’re doing, Short Stop? I can’t keep doing it.”

He waves a dismissive hand in the air and bends over to pick up his duffel bag, and I notice the blue bracelets I made him two years ago still wrapped around his wrist.

For good luck.

Because I wanted to talk to him, and it was my excuse to do so.

“You still have them.”

Briggs straightens his spine, his height towering over me, but not in the comforting way it used to.

No, he left Magnolia Ridge and me behind over a misunderstanding, but it would’ve happened eventually. Briggs got picked up by the MLB, and he’s in their Low-A program now.