A Hater's Gamble (BxB)

THIRTY-ONE

"You got me fixed on you."

                                     L I A M

"It's this dinner she wants to have," Diego said, irritatedly, "on Wednesday."

The locker room was empty, except the two of us.

"Why?," I asked, flipping through coach's playbook. It was a booklet with every active and dormant strategy that Ridgeview Baseball possessed. It was like my bible. "Since when does your sister throw parties?"

He scoffed. "It's not a party, Liam. I think she's making salmon and baked potatoes, not ordering pizza and Jell-O shots."

"She's going all out then?," I inquired, still fixed on the playbook, constantly reviewing it.

"Apparently," he sighed. "The guy's name is Hector. He doesn't go here, but I don't think he's an Eagle."

Hector.

I looked up from the playbook and drew my brows in as I looked at Diego. He rose a brow.

"That name," I voiced. "It's familiar."

"You know him?," he asked, growing interested.

"I hope not, because I don't know many good people."

"You should come," he said, finally coming to a conclusion. "To scope it out."

I laughed, but he only shrugged, "Medley will be there, but it can't be that bad."

Miles.

When I remained silent, he urged, "Dude, I need the man power to scare this guy. Medley's not intimidating, and I'm only one person."

I rolled my eyes, but crossed my arms. "I thought you hated Medley."

He shifted his footing, and stared at me for a moment. "I thought you did."

"I don't," I stated, shrugging.

"Then me neither," he said, gritting his teeth. "Still don't particularly like him, though."

I put my feet up on the chair in front of me. "He doesn't like you either, nor me. And he has every reason not to."

Diego braced his forearms on his knees as he sat on the bench. "I'm not going to apologize to him, for what we put him through, the bruises we gave him. I won't," he said, turning his attention fully to me.

"Why are you telling me this?," I pressed, setting the playbook aside.

"So you know where I stand," he clarified, a genuine tone in his voice.

I wouldn't let him ask me where I stood, because I was ashamed to admit that I didn't know on what line I stood. All I knew was that the sight of what we did—

How Diego and I made him feel over some figment of the past, made my stomach churn in the worst way possible.

        •••••••••••••••••••••••

Diego left school while I reluctantly departed the locker room and trudged towards Mr. Wicks' classroom. I wasn't fully prepared to face Miles, not when the line between us was so distorted. However, there was a significant pull towards that boy, no matter how much I wanted to avoid him; and the physics lesson.

As I came across the classroom, I stood in the doorway, silently surveying the sight in front of me. Miles, apparently, had company. A tall boy with wavy brown hair and glasses sat on one of the student desks, happily talking to Miles, who sat comfortably in a chair. His nose was a pinkish hue, while his eyes were slightly lined with red. He held a tissue in his hand, and wiped occasionally at his nose. He appeared to be sick.