Battle of the Captains

losers

I didn't know how I survived the next day seeing Austin in school, avoiding him, practically running for the hills when he approached me, but I did it with a smile on my face and with refusal to show anyone how I really felt– hurt, angry, betrayed.

I felt like a big, fat loser.

"Austin!" I winced when I heard his name in English class but I managed to keep my cool. Instead of occupying my usual seat in class, I switched with Ashley, giving her not much of an explanation, but accepting my offer anyway because she became aware of my sour mood. Plus, she thought Austin was hot. Man that thought made my blood boil.

"Hey, Ashley," he said, barely a drop of emotion in his voice.

"Look at you," she said in a gentle tone, her voice filled with worry. I knew she didn't mean to be so loud but Ashley had always had a big mouth. "You look terrible. What time did you sleep last night? Maybe you should go to the nurse's office and lie down.

I couldn't stop myself from looking at him. Ashley, ever the exaggerator, was partially right. He wore eye bags and his brows were pinched together almost permanently. He looked stressed, he looked tired, and he looked done.

"I'm fine," he said.

They didn't say another word the rest of the class.

Austin and his friends were seated in our usual table before we got there. I was the first one to divert paths and rest my tray on a different table on the other side of the cafeteria. Max, Jimmy, Clay and the rest of Austin's friends looked confused but my friends followed after me anyway, sending the others a look of what the hell is going on? If that didn't scream that something was off between the captains, I didn't know what would.

"Maybe you should talk to him," Liz told me when the boys had gone to fetch all of us some drinks.

I'd told her what happened the other day. I didn't know why the topic was still up for discussion. "You know what I told him and you know what he said after that. Do you know how embarrassed I was?"

I hadn't told any of the others the story because my broken pride had just enough to prevent anyone else from knowing the rejection story.

"You were so happy before," Liz said. "With him. Don't you want to be that happy again?"

I shook my head; tears from last night threatening to come out like a scar reopening. "He played me. He didn't feel the same way. He was only nice to me because he wanted to win our bet."

"If that's true, then why does he look so miserable?"

"I don't know. Maybe he feels bad."

"Then why don't you talk to him so that he could apologize?"

That fuelled my fury. "I don't want him to apologize! I don't want to talk to him because I want to hate him." Because hating him had always been easier than falling.

"I'm really sorry," she said softly. I'm really sorry for convincing you to confess. I'm really sorry you're feeling like this.

"It's okay," I said, not wanting her to feel anymore guilty than she already was from when I called her crying last night. "I just don't want to talk to him. I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"Then we won't," Liz finally said.

"Thank you."

Liz dropped the topic but that didn't mean that the topic didn't find a way to pop back up in my head.

When the boys got back, they chugged down their cokes. Jimmy was the first to finish and as he slammed down the small can on the table, he said, "I won."