Waiting on the Sidelines (Waiting on the Sidelines #1)(10)
The time flew by, and I was startled when my phone rang. My home phone number popped up. My dad was coming to pick me up. Pulling together our notes, the list and the colored pencils I had brought, I threw everything in my backpack and zipped it up.
“Hey, Noles, we could totally take you home if you want to tell your pops,” said Cole. He was the quieter one of the group, a bit skinny, but tall enough to make his appearance fool you into believing he was an athlete. Noles, somehow that nickname was sticking.
“No, that’s ok, I have some family things to do. But thanks!” I said, deep down knowing we didn’t have any family plans but that I didn’t really want this group pulling up to my gravel driveway after leaving the Johnson palace.
Reed walked me to the door when we heard my dad pulling up, carrying my backpack for me in a sort of traditional gentleman’s way. “Hey, sorry I wasn’t much help today. It looks great though. How about we pick back up on Thursday?”
“That should work. I’ll come by after practice again, OK?” I said, still reeling from the last two hours where I was alone with the it boy of my next four years, spent the afternoon listening to tales of underage drinking, all the while in the presence of underage drinking, and earning a nickname that, while I didn’t really like, I secretly was honored to be given.
My dad asked mostly about the Johnson garage, curious if I got the full tour. I told him we pretty much just worked on the project the entire time, leaving out the part about Reed’s friends and their beer. I sat back in the seat, pulling my legs up from the hot edges of the seat. For once, not really embarrassed by my car or the home we were driving to, but rather impressed with the path my high school self seemed to be on.
Thursday was pretty much a rerun of our first afternoon together at Reed’s house. Once again, Reed’s father wasn’t home. And once again, his friends came over and sat around the table while I worked on building miniature casitas, gardens and filtration stations out of modeling clay. I was more involved in the conversation now, adding in my opinion about the Cardinals chances this year (I knew a few things, but was mostly quoting bits I had read on USAToday.com and some of the sports blogs my brother always read).
Our Tuesdays and Thursdays were becoming a regular thing, for at least an hour after practice every time. The guys would say hi to me in the halls at school, and Sienna and Sarah were delighted to flirt with a few upper classmen. A few times, they even joined me at Reed’s house, sitting around the table and, while I never did, they also drank a few of the Reed family beers as well. Sarah was a joiner, and she had been to a few high school parties in junior high where she had gotten buzzed on shots with her older sister. Sienna was a bit more cautious, so she nursed her beer, participating, but not really experiencing.
As the project afternoons progressed, I realized I was pretty much handling the entire thing on my own. But while I usually resented it and did it anyway, this seemed different. I didn’t feel taken advantage of, and I liked that the project gave me something to distract myself with when Reed and I were alone, before his friends showed up.
We were fast on our way to becoming friends. I was finally ready to admit to myself that I had a bit of a puppy crush on him for sure, but that I wasn’t really interested in anything beyond that. I liked how he made me feel—like I was a part of something, socially accepted, almost cool. I fantasized about our high school years, me catching rides with him, waving at him while he was on the field for a game. One day, after I’ve finally met his dad, he’d know me, too. I would pop over to visit and he’d welcome me in, ask me to stay for dinner. Yes, Reed and I could become great friends. And that would be enough.
“Oh. My. God. Your house is so huuuuuuuge!” I heard a squeal come from the front door. That’s when I was thrown back into reality.
Tatum was here. In this house. With me and my new group of friends. She showed up with Cole and Devin and threw her purse on the table next to our nearly done project, not even casting a look in my direction. Her heavy and clunky keys slid out the top of her purse, knocking over several toothpick structures I had set aside to dry from gluing. Thoughtless and selfish, was all I could think as I pushed her crap from the table to a nearby chair and reassembled the toothpicks.
“Reeeeeeeeeed,” she giggled, in a little-girl voice that I thought wasn’t fooling anyone. The fakeness oozed from her, and it was utterly transparent—far from attractive. But just then, she threw her arms around Reed and nuzzled her nose into the corner of his neck. She was two years older than him, and she could have any guy in our school. But she wanted to lay claim to Reed. And I was furious.
At first, I thought maybe Reed would be as annoyed by her childish voice and overt flirtation as I was, but he seemed to be eating it up, picking her up and twirling her around in the kitchen, touching her legs with his feet on the couch in the living room and admiring “how cute she was” when she stole his hat from his head and put it on her perfectly tussled head of hair.
For the first time in weeks, the guys didn’t sit around the table with me. I continued to work, listening to the conversations in the living room. Tatum giggling at their sports conversations, and asking them what they thought of her hair: Should she cut it? Does it look better up? Should she wear more hats? She had a loose over-shirt on and I watched as she strategically removed it in front of Reed, her back to him as he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She looked over her shoulder, asking him if he could tuck the tag in on the tight tank she was now revealing.