The Better to Bite (7 page)

The teams lined up for a new play. Ball. Pass. Run…

Rafe took another guy down.
I heard the thud of the bodies that time.

“He’s…” I wet my lips. Why did I feel so tense? “He’s
really
fast.” And strong. Much stronger than I’d realized.

“Wait until Brent gets some action.” Jenny sounded all cocky.

I didn’t have to wait long. In just seconds, our team had control of the ball once more. I saw Brent turn his head, and I figured he was calling out plays or something, then…

The ball was in the air. Brent had hurtled the football in a perfect toss that flew and flew and—

Troy caught the ball, right in front of the ten yard line. Actually, the ball slammed into his chest, and it looked like it hit him hard enough to bruise. Troy stumbled back, staggered, and did a fast two step to regain his balance, then he hurried into the end zone.

The screams and yells grated in my ears.

Brent headed toward the bench as the other players slapped him on the back. I saw Valerie make a beeline right for him. My eyes narrowed on that chick.

Brent drained a cup of water and walked around the bench.  Valerie held out her hands to him, looking totally like she was about to give him a congratulatory hug.

He caught her hands, pushed her back, then turned away.

Burn.

“Oh, wow, did you see that?” Jenny whispered.

I had.

Valerie lifted her chin and stomped away. I almost felt bad for her. Then she looked up and pinned me with a fuming glare.

Maybe not almost.

The poundings began again. Because that's what was happening on the field. The other team was just getting pounded. But this time, our team seemed to get the ball even faster. And when we were up again, instead of throwing a pass, Brent held tight to the ball. He ran in between the players, snaking left and right, and number thirteen was right with him, guarding him from every attack. Rafe slammed into the opposing players, clearing a path for Brent. The white lines on the field vanished in a blur.

End zone.

The bleachers actually trembled beneath the stomping feet. I held onto my seat, worried I was about to go tumbling.

“Aren’t they incredible?” Jenny asked, voice breathless.

Rafe and Brent stood together in the end zone. No celebrating for them. No high-fives or spikes of the ball.

And, jeez, both guys were looking my way.

Incredible.
That was right. Actually, I’d never seen anything like them. Too strong, too fast. The downed players were slowly rising from the field. Some guys were limping. Brent and Rafe had literally cut through them all.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something very, very wrong was happening…so I just sat there, dazed, while the rest of the school cheered.

***

We won, of course. With the Deadly Duo, how could we not? It was a blow-out at 56 to 0.

The football players doused the coach with whatever remained in an ice chest. Jenny jumped up and down again, and I wondered if maybe I should just head home for the night.

He’s not interested in you.

Rafe’s words had really gotten under my skin. After all, a girl had her pride.

I followed the others out of the stands and down into the parking lot. Jenny had picked me up, and we stood near her light-blue Toyota. It was her dad’s car—she’d been gleeful that he let her borrow it for the game.

She must have seen the hesitation on my face because she asked, “We’re still heading to Brent’s party, right?” Her brow wrinkled and she had a real hopeful, almost puppy-dog kinda look on her pretty face.

Behind us, I heard someone yell out, “Par-tay!”

“The celebration will be insane,” she told me, smiling a little. “Brent’s parties are always great.”

I was sure she was right.
Insane.
But…

“Have they always been like that?” I asked her as I rubbed my upper arms.

She blinked at me. “Who…like what?”

“Brent and Rafe. They’re really good.” Like almost better than NFL good.

“I know, right?”

I grabbed onto my patience. I had to do that a lot with her. “Were they like this last year?”

She shook her head. “They were JV last year.”

Junior Varsity. My teeth clenched. “I mean…were they as fast, were they—”

“No.” She had her keys out. They jingled in her hand. “Maybe they had a growth spurt of something…maybe coach just made ‘em better. All I know is that over the summer, I came to a few practices.” She glanced to the left. “You know, just to pass time.”

Or to watch Troy. Yeah, I knew.

“And I saw them.” She gave a little shrug. “When I did, I knew we’d be state champs this year.”

Because they’d put everyone else in the hospital?

“Anna!”

I turned at the shout of my name. Brent jogged toward me. Others slapped him on the shoulder and tried to give him high fives. The high fives that Rafe had so not been giving.

Brent hurried past them all and came right for me.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” He asked, glancing from me to Jenny.

“Um…” Sweat had dampened his hair. The streaks of black were still under his eyes. Instead of looking all pretty boy, he looked a little wild. Dangerous. He’d yanked off his shoulder pads and jersey, and an old t-shirt covered his chest.

“No! Don’t worry, she’s not leaving!” Jenny rushed to say. “I’m heading out, I was going to—”

“You’re coming to the party, too, right, Jen?”

Jenny flushed. “S-sure. Definitely. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Cool. You know where my place is—head on over. I bet the party’s already started.” He shook his head as his lips twisted in a rueful grin. “There’s always someone ready to start a party without me.”

That line made me feel sad, and I slipped a little closer to him.

He glanced up, surprised.

“Well, I’ll…yeah, I’ll just see you guys there,” Jenny said and then she jumped into her car.

And totally abandoned me.

That was okay, though, right then, I wanted to be with Brent. Crazy, I know, but despite the madness of the game, he seemed to need me then.

“I’m glad you came to the game,” he told me as someone else came up and hit him on the back. Wait—had that been Cassidy’s cousin?

Yeah, it was. James flashed me a grin. Huh. The guy was adjusting to high school life pretty quickly. He didn’t even look like Fresh Meat tonight.

I realized I needed to make some sort of response to Brent.  “The game was…ah…interesting.”

He smiled fully, and those dimples flashed. “Are you trying to be polite, Anna Lambert?”

I was, but I could also be very honest. “You’re incredibly good.”

I thought his face seemed to harden a moment. “It’s just a game,” he said, shrugging. “In life, it doesn’t matter if you’re good on the field.”

I thought about the screaming students. “It matters to everyone else.”

He stared at me. Just stared, and it seemed like his gaze saw right into me. “That’s my truck,” he told me as he pointed to the sleek silver ride near the field's gate. “Stay there, give me five minutes to shower in the locker room, and then we’ll hit that party.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” So I guessed that I was going to the party. Why was I stressing so much?

But he didn’t leave right away. Instead, his eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like you’re so different from everyone else that I’ve ever met?”

Different.
“Because I am.” I sure was being honest with him. Strange.

Another dimpled smile, and he turned away. I headed for his truck and propped my back against the tail-gate. The better to just sit back and watch the cars charge out of the parking lot.

It didn’t take long for the place to clear. The other team shuffled out of the stadium and crowded onto their bus. There wasn’t much chatter from them or their band, or even their cheerleaders. I guess it was hard to be cheery after a slaughter.

Their bus rolled away, shooting exhaust into the air, and almost drowning out the sound of a motorcycle.

Almost, but not quite.

Rafe drove slowly around the lot. His helmet was on and the visor was down, so I couldn’t see his face. As I stared at him, I straightened up. Was he going to stop? Say something to me?  Tell me once more that Brent really wasn’t interested in me? 

But the bike just picked up speed, and he drove away.

I realized I was almost alone in the lot then, and that—that wasn’t good. My hand shoved into my purse, and I closed my fingers around the mace I’d brought tonight, just in case…and to shut up my dad.

I stood there, wishing Brent would
hurry
, and—

A howl cut through the night. Not close, but floating in the distance. I shivered.

“It’s gonna be a bad night to be out alone in the woods.”

That was Cassidy’s voice. I glanced to the right. She’d come toward me, and I hadn’t even heard her approach. I guessed she must move like Granny Helen, all quiet and sneaky.

“I’m not planning to be alone in the woods,” I told her. No, that definitely wasn’t an item on my to-do list for the night.

“Good.” She glanced up at the dark sky. A half-moon hung over us. “They’re going to be hungry soon.”

“You’re creepy, you know that?”

She frowned at me.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been creepy more than my share of times, too.” Wasn’t that the truth? “But you really need to ease up, or you’re not gonna have any friends.” This was so the speech my dad had given me before we left Chicago. Almost word for word. And he thought I never listened to him.

“What makes you think that I want friends?” Angry, defensive.

One of my shoulders lifted, then fell. “Because you’re standing here, talking to me, and because you just spent your Friday night at a football game.” Come on, that screamed wanting friends.

Her lips snapped closed.

“Why you’re giving me this BS spiel about the night being dangerous, I don’t know.” I didn’t really care. “But maybe you should just try chilling out.”

Brent emerged from the shadows of the stadium. He had a duffel bag thrown over his left shoulder.

“Maybe you should come to the party,” I told her because I’d seen the flicker of uncertainty on her face. “It’s at Brent’s house.”

She slipped back a step. “My grandmother…she’s the one who told me to come tonight.” She licked her lips. “She wanted me to—”

“Warn me about the dark?” Brent wasn’t close enough to hear us. A good thing. Maybe I shouldn’t even be trying with Cassidy, but she just reminded me of…
me.
“You did it. I’m warned. Now we’re heading to the party at Brent’s, and you should come, too.”

I could see the temptation on her face. She
wanted
to come. But Cassidy shook her head. “No, she said it wasn’t safe tonight.”

Right.

Brent was closing in.

“Be careful,” Cassidy told me, and then she hurried away.

I exhaled on a long, hard breath.

“Problem?” Brent asked, glancing over at Cassidy’s fleeing figure.

“No.” I smiled. I’m so good at the fake smile these days. “Just a little girl talk.”

His hair was wet from the shower, and he smelled clean and fresh. No more black paint on his face. Back to being All-American. All-American was growing on me. He walked around me, and opened the truck door. I wasn’t really expecting that gentleman move from him. It was nice. I slid inside and eased onto the leather seat. He slammed the door behind me and hurried around the truck.

When he turned on the engine, a blast of hard, pounding rock filled the car.

We both laughed as he turned down the volume. “Sorry,” he told me with a flash of a shy grin. Shy? Him? “I like to get into the mood before a game. The music pumps me up.”

Then he leaned over me. Real close. I lost that deep breath I’d taken earlier. His mouth was so near to mine that I thought he was going to kiss me.

But he just grabbed the seatbelt behind me and pulled it over my shoulder and clicked it in place near my waist. “Got to buckle up,” he said.

The guy was a boy scout. Cute, smart, and law-abiding. When he found out about the whole law-abiding part, my dad would be in heaven.

I was actually pretty close to that sweet spot myself. Maybe my bad boy days would be over.

He cranked the truck and pulled out of the empty lot. I didn’t see Cassidy anymore. No telling where she was. But I had the weird feeling she was around, watching me.

You should’ve come with us.

“I’m really glad you came to the game,” Brent said, and my gaze darted to his hands as they gripped the steering wheel. Strong hands, tanned. “Even though I got the impression that football wasn’t your sport.”

I laughed at that. “I don’t actually have a sport.” Thank goodness.

“Give football a chance,” he told me. “You might be surprised by how much you like something new.” We were on the main road now. I’d looked up his address online so I knew where he lived. We’d have to slip away from this road soon and snake through the woods as we headed up the mountain.

“You were good,” I said when I realized the silence in the truck had stretched a bit too long. “Like…really good.” Almost steroid good, but a girl wasn’t supposed to say that on a first date, right?

I saw the white flash of his teeth as he grinned. “Thanks.”

“Is it always a slaughter like that?” Perhaps slaughter wasn’t the best word, but it was the only thing that sprang to mind.

He shrugged and steered the truck to the left, toward the darker woods and the twisting roads that waited. “Lately it is.”

And why is that?
“You’re not on steroids, are you?” Oh, crap. The blurting again. I’d really meant to hold that question back until at least the second date.

But, to my immense relief, Brent just laughed. “Nah, I’m drug free, trust me.”

“Good to know.” Now Dad wouldn’t have to bust the football team. Maybe.

His right hand reached out and caught my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I like you, Anna.” His deep voice filled the car. A hint of the South flavored his words, rolling them just a little. “You say what you think, don’t you? No holding back with you.”