Fake It ‘Til You Break It

Having Leadership first period is as equally awesome as it sucks.

Now that the voting is over and the class president and what have you has been picked, most of our time will be put into event planning, prep, or tear down, meaning most of our days will be spent outside of the classroom. The weather here is typically on the chillier side, so it’s a lot of hoodies and iced coffees all year long.

Thankfully, I had dance this morning and my blood is already pumping and I can manage staying warm while we wait for the sun to eat up all the coastal fog.

“How the hell did we get stuck with the worst job when we did the most work to set this shit up?” Alex laughs as he moves along the fence line, peeling the tape left over from the campaign posters we just got done tearing down.

I grin. “I know, and whoever tied these stupid ribbons made them so tight, I can hardly get the damn scissors beneath the material. I’ve only made it through the V. At this rate, they’ll be a lone T.E left on the fence tomorrow.”

Alex sets his trash bag down, pulls off his gloves and throws them inside before walking my way.

“Here.” He rubs his hands on his jeans, gently reaching for the scissors. “Why don’t we switch for a little bit.”

“Are you sure, you basically already did the hard part.”

“What kind of guy would I be if I let you struggle when I can do it for you?” He grins, flashing a smile that’s almost too perfect.

“Okay,” I tease. “No need to lay it on thick.”

He laughs, moving his attention to the ribbons, so I grab his bag and follow along the fence.

He really did get two times as much done as I did.

Like me, Alex joined the leadership team freshman year, so between now and then, there’ve been dozens of opportunities for me to make a move on him, but I always chicken out. At the end of the day, it’s simple. I can’t gauge the guy.

Today is a perfect example. He’s been talking nonstop, laughing and smiling and teasing, but it’s not anything new. He’s always friendly when we work together, flirty to the point of being cheesy sometimes, but I’m pretty sure it’s a part of his personality.

He likes attention, loves making girls smile or blush. It can be someone’s first day, and his turn as welcoming committee and he acts the same toward them, but it’s only ever while he’s in class or when we’re doing class-related work outside of it.

In any other setting, it’s a friendly smile or nod and that’s it.

And there lies the problem, his assumed interest only lasts from one bell to the next.

I get to the end of the fence, stepping out from behind the bleachers and pause.

Alone on the field and running full speed from the opposite end I’m standing, Nico flies yard for yard. Every ten or so he spins or does some fancy footwork and slants one way only to go to the next, until he’s breezing past me to the end zone, where he slows, only to dart back the way he came.

He stops at the fifty, doing a little roll as if he’d just dove over an invisible defender coming for his legs, and then hops up, jumping from one foot to the other and a light laugh leaves me.

So he practices his showboating moves.

Why is he even out here? Weight training was zero period, he should be in class by now.

He reaches up, stretching his arms over his head before folding them behind it.

Alex slides into view in the same second, blocking Nico from me completely.

“Hey.” His eyes bounce between mine. “All done.”

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“No.” He laughs. “I’m saying I’m done.”

My mouth drops open with a light laugh. “Shut up.”

He nods his head. “Yup.”

“Oh my god! How the hell?” I smile, shoving him a little. “I don’t believe you.”

“Go see for yourself.”

“I’m about to,” I say, taking a step around him, Alex slides back with me, blocking me again.

“Let’s walk behind, do a quick double check on our way back to make sure you’re not a slacker,” he teases as he moves toward the fence.

“You wish, then you’d have a chance of getting a higher grade than me this year,” I shout, but just before I follow behind him, my eyes slide to the field.

Empty.

Huh.

Once Alex and I get done throwing the garbage away, we walk toward the faucet to wash our hands.

“Hey, so I didn’t get a chance to clean up my notes from chem, you think I can snag a copy of yours maybe?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have them on me, but I’d need them back by the end of the day, so I can work on some review.”

“Cool. I’ll make a quick copy and get them back to you in chem?”

I smile. “Yeah, that works.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He grins and walks off ahead of me, even though our destination is the same.

Once again, I’m nothing but an awesome classmate.

I’m annoyed as my next few classes go on, and even more so when I end up running a few minutes late for chem thanks to an issue with the computer system in the class before. By the time I get to the room, only the aide is left.

Josie’s sharp eyes follow as I set my stuff on the lab table, holding mine as I make my way back to her.

My brows lift expectantly, but she still doesn’t tell me where I am supposed to go.

She leans forward, her cleavage pushing against the top she’s wearing. “Interesting, you stay and talk to Mr. B yesterday and lo and behold, today’s class is on the football field.”

“We’re on the field?”

Thanks, Mr. Brando.

Josie purses her lips. “How are your little ‘getting acquainted’ sessions going, Demi? He still ignoring you the best he can?”

“Sure is, Josie. Is he still walking away from you in the halls?” I snap back but don’t stand there to catch her response.

She told me where I needed to go, and I’m not interested in her drama.

I quicken my steps, easily spotting Nico sitting against the goal post and drop beside him.

“Sorry,” I rush out, but when he doesn’t so much as acknowledge my arrival, I don’t explain further.

We sit there in annoying silence for a few minutes, and in that time, I can’t help but notice the way his gaze continues to roam the length of the turf.

He must be running plays in his mind like I was my routine yesterday. Every few seconds his eyes tighten, then snap to another area, like he’s playing it all out, visualizing every move, maybe the ones I spotted him practicing earlier.

The utility bin beside the team bench at the edge of the sidelines catches my attention.

Oh, screw it. It’s worth a shot.

I push off the grass to stand.

That has Nico’s eyes snapping to mine, but I hardly spare him a glance, walking over to snag a football from the container.

I’m tired of this avoidance crap, so… I’m getting on his level.

It just so happens I’m wearing my Nike’s with a pair of shorts today, so I throw the ball up and try to kick it but of course it bounces off the side of my shoe, landing a sad foot away.

I pick it up, noticing a few of the other groups cutting glances at me, but I ignore them and try again. This time it goes a solid five feet, sideways and wobbly, but still.

I look to Nico.

While his focus is lasered in on me, his expression remains bare.

I pick it up again, tossing it in the air a few times only to throw it a little out, running to try and catch it, but it falls to the grass.

Before I can make another grab for it, Nico’s swift hand flies in to snatch it first, and our eyes meet, both of us still bent over.

I straighten first, and he slowly follows, twisting the ball in his hands.

He eyes me a second, but then tips his chin as he positions his fingers against the laces, elbow raised and prepared to launch.

I follow his lead, jogging out a few yards, and he throws a short pass I’m able to catch with ease.

He licks his lips and claps his hands in front of him, his way of telling me to throw it back.

I try kicking it again instead, and he frowns, but the corner of his lips tip up the slightest bit.

“Ah.” I point to him teasingly before my hands find my hips. “I knew it.”

“Knew what? You can’t kick for shit?” He points the ball to the left, so I start jogging that way, and the ball falls right into my hands.

“No.” I take several steps back and his forehead creases slightly. “I knew that you couldn’t stay padlocked so tight when in your element.”

I tip back slightly and throw the ball, it’s a horrible throw and spins the wrong way but it makes it close enough to where he can jog up and make the catch.

“What do you know about my element, Pixie?”

“Pixie?” I tilt my head slightly. “I’m less than a head shy of you. Not a pixie.”

“Maybe I’m not talkin’ about your looks.”

I swipe a hand out in a do tell type of way, but when he doesn’t acknowledge me, I answer his question. “Not much, to be honest, but I know it’s where you spend every afternoon pretty much all year long, pre-season, regular season, post-season.”

We walk toward each other, but Nico quickly spins like he would in a game, a similar move I saw him do earlier, and I laugh, turning with him.

He bobs, slowly swaying back and forth, so I move with him, and when he darts around me, rushing for the end zone, I trail behind.

I’m only two feet from him, so when he stops abruptly, whipping around to face me, my body slams into his.

I yelp slightly on impact and he catches me around the waist so we don’t fall, both of us laughing. I look up to catch him in the act, but slowly his amusement dies, causing mine to follow.

I clear my throat and step back the second he removes his hand.

I glance to the side where Mr. Brando stands at the edge of the bleachers, binder in hand.

He tips his chin, a small smile in place, and then he switches his attention to a few of the other students around, so I turn back to Nico.

Nico who has an icy stare locked in the direction mine just came from.

When he finally brings his eyes back, he does so taking several steps away, and Alex is suddenly standing beside me.

He hands over my notebook. “Thanks again for the help studying,” he says.

I laugh, scrunching my nose. “They’re only copies, you’ll have to put the time in.”

A tight laugh leaves him. “Right, yeah.”

I offer a small smile and move back to my spot on the turf, Nico sitting once again as well.

“Should we go over some questions, maybe?” I ask Nico, setting my notebook in my lap.

His eyes pointedly fall to the matte black cover only to snap right back to mine.

He goes straight back to silent mode.

And just like that, Nico’s done being semi-friendly for the day.

Awesome.

The class ends not too long later, and lunch follows, the pep rally in the gym right after, so I meet Carley at the door and we file in together.

We’re playing a rare Thursday game tonight, but it’s still game night, and with our team having had a bye last week, we’re all jonesing for some football.

I’m in need of some fun after the taxing week I’ve had.

Of course, as soon as I think it, the cause of my headache struts in, a large number 24 etched across his chest in big, bold, blue letters.

He’s not even the captain, Trent is as quarterback, yet, there Nico is, leading the team down the bench line, and dropping his ass in the space directly in front of me.

Yay freaking me.