Truth or Dare (First Love H.S. Romance)

Chapter 2- Justin

Once i'm back inside, i head to my lunch table while ignoring the curious gaze that follows me. Ian smirks as I slide into my seat and i suddenly feel the urge to punch my best friend in the face.

"Don't you even say it." I push away my tray of cold pizza and fries that are now strings of rubber covered in ketchup.

"I wasn't going to say anything." Yet, the words, 'I told you so', are etched all over his face. "I'm pretty sure Bridget said enough." He taunts with hint of a Slavic accent.

Originally from some small town in Croatia, he moved to Virginia with his mom when he was eight. Being dropped in a new town is one thing but a new country is a total cultural shock. For the longest time he didn't utter a word. Somehow, we still managed to become friends.

"Screw you." The growl in my voice matches the rumble in my empty stomach.

If it wasn't for my mom deciding that two o'clock in the morning was the perfect time to go bat shit crazy and light the backyard on fire, I wouldn't have overslept and missed breakfast.

After dealing with one emotional female, I'm fresh out of patience for Bridget's melodramatics.

"Sorry, you're not my type. Maybe Corbin can help you out." Ian points to the gray eyed running back sitting beside him.

Corbin Lewis, whose sandwich stops midway to his mouth, shakes his head. "Nope, not into pretty boys. Too high maintenance."

I flipped them both off before snatching the bag of chips out of his hands and greedily dump some in my mouth.

His frown is short lived because he pulls out a bag of Skittles from his jacket pocket. The guy has a mean sweet tooth and it's a wonder he doesn't have mouth full of cavities.

"What did Bridget have to say?"

Corbin's question is pointless. In a few minutes he'll get the full play by play from his girlfriend, Amber, one of Bridget's dutiful little soldiers.

"The usual b.s." I mumble, hoping the peanut gallery would shut the hell up. I swear, they're worse than a bunch of chicks gossiping in the hallways.

"I take it this love saga is finally over." Kevin Collins, the star player on the basketball team, pipes in.

I dust the crumbs off my hands and take a sip from my water bottle. "The relationship is over. I have no knowledge of this alleged love saga."

After a few more minutes of busting my balls, Marcus Davis grows serious. "You know she's going to make your life hell now, right?"

If anyone has firsthand experience on scorned exes, its him. His old girlfriend keyed, Asshole, in his '79 black Pontiac GTO that he spent months refurbishing with his dad. The thought of Bridget doing the same to my new truck makes my blood boil. Bridget is vindictive but she's not completely off the rails and knows going after me would be a death sentence.

"Shit, what else is new."

Thankfully, the conversation shifts to a more important topic, the last game of the season. Crestfield Trojans are playing against our rival, the Greenbrier Hornets. We've been on a losing streak against them for the past three years but Kevin is promising a win this year.

Suddenly, a bitter taste coats my mouth and it's not from the salt and vinegar chips.

Up until last year I was heavily into sports. Baseball, football, soccer but I excelled at basketball. Well, I did up until my father put a stop it and pulled me off the team. He said, and I quote, 'A McCoy has better things to do than act like a barbarian with a ball between his hands'.