I love track. I really do. But it's days like today that I wish I didn't compete. I could've stuck around for the spring season and just spent the rest of my time playing House sports. Now, though, it's nearing the end of January and I'm stuck running laps on the rubber track above the gym basketball courts. Tyrone is panting beside me because he's at this school as an actual recruited runner, so the work never stops for him. On my other side is Landon, who is counting these laps toward football practice. Try telling this kid that football is a fall sport and you'll regret it real quick. He's a few months away from hopping back on a travel team outside of school to keep the offers coming in.
Last year, some guy came up to me after my meet and tried to recruit me to his college. I didn't know the nicest way to say "that doesn't sound like an Ivy," so I settled on a thank you and took his information. I never called, and he didn't either. Landon was screaming at me for not being grateful for a recruit, but I didn't want to go to a subpar college for my subpar love of running. When I go to university, I may never even run, again.
"I can't believe that stupid dance is today," Ty groans, starting his seventh lap around the track. I trail behind him slightly, but I'm keeping up pretty well for 6 am. I'm a night runner. Landon has no problem matching each one of his steps with Ty's.
"What the hell is a Winter Ball, anyway?" Landon snorts. "Like some cheap prom knock-off."
"You both literally have dates," I tell them. "I don't know how. Y'all are dicks."
Landon scoffs. "I am a gentleman. Lena was ecstatic when I asked her."
"Was that before or after you tried to fish her tonsils out with your tongue?"
Ty gags, "I do not need that visual so early in the morning."
I try to find something to focus on when I run. Something to stare at. I used to look down at my shoes; counting each foot as it connected with the ground. That didn't work when people started bumping into me and passing. Now, I look at my hand each time it swings in front of my body. This way I'm aware of my surroundings, but there's a constant that I can always unconsciously look at, while I focus on my steady breathing instead. Running is a science that I haven't fully figured out yet, but I know enough to avoid ankle sprains and second places.
"Who are you even going with?" Landon asks Ty, running a small lap around him.
Ty aims a swift kick at Landon's shin and he falls back. "Sadie."
I choke on my... air. And I'm wheezing so much that I stop the even pace I had achieved and pant with my hands on my knees. "What?"
"You dying or something?" Tyrone asks, gesturing toward my likely tomato-red face.
"I'm fine," I gasp. I feel hot all over and the layer of sweat on my abs is doing nothing to cool me down. That was supposed to be the whole benefit of running shirtless. "How did you get her to go with you?"
Ty flashes a tooth-baring grin. He has a perfect shiny smile. "I saw her coming out of the library. Intercepted her. Asked if she wanted to go. And she was all like 'fuck you. Gross. Fuck your musty ass.' But I sweet-talked her."
"Likely story," I laugh. Ty couldn't sweet-talk anyone, no matter how hard he tried. His idea of a compliment is telling a girl she can ride him.
"No. She actually looked like she was going to start crying or something. She was sick of me and just randomly blurted, 'Fuck. Fine, Ty.' I don't like girls that are hostile, but she does it so damn well."
"Maybe she just doesn't like you." Why am I hoping she doesn't like him?
I've spent the entire day avoiding Sadie. I see her in every class, but I don't address her directly. I don't know why I can't just chill-the fuck-out. Since when did I start having an opinion on her dating life. The fact that I care is so annoying. It's gross. It makes me want to rip off the sleeve of my green knitted sweater. The one that she washed for me. She practically threw it at me when she gave it back, along with some choice words. She even used unscented detergent and it was the nicest thing she's ever done for me. You see what I mean? These little civil moments are happening more often and I can't tell if we're just maturing or if maybe we don't hate each other?
"You are fucking illiterate." And I spoke too soon.
Annoyance tenses my jaw. "I'm a bibliophile."
"Fuck off. No bibliophile can't tell the difference between two authors."
What is she on about?
We're sitting at a horseshoe table with a huge piece of chart paper laying diagonally on it. The page reads "Favourite Jane Austin Quotes From the Semester" in thick red marker.
"'I make so many beginnings, there will never be an end.' That sounds like an Alcott quote. Well, not sounds; it is an Alcott quote."
"Fuck," I mumble. I'm starting to get tired of always messing up in front of her. Can she just fucking fail? Once?
She spins the paper towards her, crosses out my loopy black writing, and begins scribbling a quote of her own. "And this is why I'm going to secure English top of the class." Oh, here we fucking go.
"Oh, fuck off. You are not. And even if you did; I have history."
"What makes you think that?"
"You don't even know who the first US president was."
"I do to!"
I smirk, "Okay, who?"
"George Washington."
"And who told you that?" I'm smiling now. A full bright smile. I'm sure my dimple is showing.
"Oh, give it up. Either way, art is mine."
"That's funny. Trés drôle."
She slaps her hands on the table in outrage, rumbling up the paper. "You are an awful artist."
"Oh, come on. I did a great job." Of course, she's referring to the time we were paired up for portrait art. She was certainly unhappy with the quality of my drawing of her.
She walks over to the chair I've plopped myself in and gently pulls the hair on the back of my head so I have to look up at her. She leans in, "I think we both know I don't look like that."
I visibly swallow.
I take my chance. "Why are you going to the dance with Ty?"
Her eyes widen slightly, but she hides any other indication of surprise. Instead, she smiles. "Moment of weakness."
"Okay," I stretch out the word. "Why are you still going with him?"
"Why not? He may be a dick, but he's not bad looking. It's embarrassing because he's actually just my type. And I don't want to slap him all the time. Ana and Angie are going to the dance. So, why wouldn't I just go with him? It's not like it actually means anything," she rambles on.
But I'm not listening to her. "What do you mean he's just your type?"
She's blushing. "Shit. I mean like physically. He's tall and muscular. An athletic build."
"We literally both do track," I mumble. I don't know why I feel the need to justify to her that I am just as much of an athletic build as fucking Tyrone.
"Yeah, I know. He's just always in the gym lifting and, um, it shows. I don't know why I'm telling you this. It's stupid. If you even utter a word of this to Ty, I will kill you. It doesn't matter, I'm going with him tonight and then he can fuck off."
That's when it clicks. I don't have a date. I really thought Sadie wouldn't have one either. Not because she can't get one, but because she didn't seem interested. Shit. I can't go alone. And since when did Ana have a date? I'm trying not to show the panic on my face as I continue to write on the large piece of parchment paper. I need a date.
No one is sitting on the school lawn anymore. It's officially too cold. I'm trying to find a girl to take out, but school's over, so it's harder than I thought. I've asked three girls so far and each time I've been met with a chorus of giggles and a polite "I'm sorry, I already have a date." It's giving me middle school girls at the diner flashbacks. And, as if he's been summoned, I get a text from Conner.
I'm bored. Tell me something tragic so I can laugh at you.
I actually oblige. We have this dance in a few hours and I can't find a date.
Loser.
You're too kind. Of course you should never text Conner expecting advice.
I got a girlfriend. Her name is Isabelle and she comes to mom and dad's diner every Friday to get chocolate chip pancakes for dinner.
Sounds like a nice girl, I write.
And superrrr pretty.
U get em bud. I try not to feel weird that my brother is using his diner shifts to pick up girls. The guy is going to grow up to be a player. It's weird because some would call me a player. I usually have no problems picking up girls; today being the exception. I don't do dating, but you'd surprised at how many girls are okay with one night stands.
My phone buzzes, but it's not Conner this time. It's Landon.
Come to the dorm. I got you a girl.
It's 7:45 pm. The dance is at 8 o'clock. We can't have the dance too late because people have practices and meetings tomorrow morning. I don't mind that it's a little earlier because I don't think this supervised dance is going to be worth staying out late. Dimitri was right: you mostly like stand around with your date. And drink punch that you hope someone didn't spike. No one ever does. Maybe they will this time.
"So, who's the girl?" I ask, picking up a tie, and then deciding I'll do without it.
"Her name's Carrie. She's on the volleyball team with Lena."
"Okay," I say. I'm glad Landon was able to get me any date.
Dimitri is pacing the corner of the dorm, fiddling with the tie of his black suit. I don't know how he's so nervous over a girl. He's never acted like this before, and he's definitely had more than one girlfriend at Fairridge. Maybe he's worried that if he does anything wrong, Angie's two psycho friends will literally skin him.
"Dimitri," I say, and he startles at his own name. "You'll be fine."
He smiles. "I don't want to mess up. I really like her. Like a lot."
"How cute," Landon gushes, wiggling the bow tie of his navy suit. It works well with his blue eyes.
I settled on a dark green suit with a black button up. I left the first couple buttons unbuttoned. A gold watch that dad gave me a few years ago sits at the base of my wrist. I put on leather loafers, but they are uncomfortable as hell. Dance's have never really been my thing. They're fun the first few times, but they just feel like an obligation at this point.
"You guys are so fucking slow," Dimitri grumbles. "We're going to be late."
"Calm down, princess. We're ready," Landon rolls his eyes.
The dance is in the gymnasium, so it only makes sense that we're all meeting outside of the library. Sarcasm. I don't know who we're meeting, but I can only assume it's Ana, Angie, Sadie, Lena, and this Carrie girl. I don't know if Dimitri realizes that by dating Angie, he has unknowingly formed together my group of friends and Sadie's. Two groups that absolutely do not belong together. This fact wouldn't annoy me that much on a regular day, but the last thing I want to be doing is going to a dance with a girl I don't even know. I ignore the very small part of my brain that wishes I were going with Sadie. Very, very small.
The air is chilly and the moon is shining down on Landon, Dimitri, and I ask we stand on the dimly lit sidewalk waiting for our dates. It's starting to feel increasingly hot in this suit, and I'm considering ditching the suit jacket when the girls–and Ty and some guy– come into view. I avoid looking at Sadie, so my eyes find Angie. She's wearing a bright red dress with thin straps and a scoop neck. She's matched her lip stick to her dress and gathered her hair in a complicated bun on the base of her neck. Dimitri looks like his eyes are actually going to roll out of his head, and it's both adorable and sickening.
Ana is sporting a blush pink dress with a flowy skirt and v-neck. Her hair is also in a bun, but this one is accented with an array of braids. Her strappy white heels show through the tulle of her skirt. The boy on her arm is wearing a basic black suit with a white undershirt. He's about the same height as Ana in heels. I recognize him as Sky, a boarding student from Asia.
My eyes skim Ty in his navy suit, almost matching Landon, who doesn't look happy when his eyes meet Tyrone's. And then I look at Sadie. And I wish I fucking didn't. She's wearing a tight black dress, also with a v-neck and a high slit going up her left leg. She's left her fading hair in loose waves that fall down her back. She's changed the gold jewelry in her ears for silver, and paired them with silver chains around her neck. Her shoes are strappy black heels. And then my eyes roam back up to her face and I think I've lost my goddamn mind. Her make up is minimal–lip gloss, black eye liner and shiny eyeshadow–but her face is lit up by the moon. And she's smiling. My God, that smile. Her eyes are crinkled at the corners and they're shining. The corners of her mouth are risen, exposing her teeth, one tooth slightly higher than the rest. She's saying something to Ana, and it's only then that I realize that I have a date. Who's standing right in front of me.
She's a pretty girl with curly brown hair that matches her dark brown eyes. She's wearing a green dress that I assume is supposed to match my suit. She's a lot shorter than me, even in her heels. I try to give her a convincing smile that says "yes I do want to be here."
"I'm Carrie," she opens her arms up for a hug, so I envelope my arms around her waist.
When I pull away I say, "I'm Carter."
"I know," she says, blushing.
Landon claps his hands together to save me from this situation. It's times like these that I'm thankful to have a friend like him. "Let's get going." Lena is clutching his arm in a blush blue dress.
It's fairly dark outside as the ten of us head over to the gymnasium. It's in a grey building that matches the rest of the ones on campus, but with a few windows added to provide more natural light. Landon and Lena are leading the way as we walk, with Landon's arm gripping onto Lena's waist. Dimitri follows with his arm slung around Angie's shoulder, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. Ana and her date are next, with Carrie talking Ana's ear off about something I can't hear. Ty was strutting beside Sadie, but then he spotted a friend of his heading in the same direction as us and quickly ran over to invite him into our group. That leaves me walking with Sadie matching my steps. She's quiet.
"Aren't you going to tell me how awful I look tonight?" She smirks, turning to look at me.
"Then I would be lying," I tell her, honestly.
She looks up at me. "You're date is cute."
"You can have her," I mumble, holding the door open for her as we enter the building for the gym.
"Awe, is Conners not enjoying his night? Going to mope around by the punch bowl?" She teases.
"And what? You're going to be spinning around and clutching onto Ty's arm. Are you just so excited to visit the Photo Booth so you can remember this night forever?"
She rolls her eyes. "No, but at least I'm a good sport."
"I don't know how you even agreed to go with him in the first place," I grumble. "He's made it public knowledge that he wants to get in your pants."
"And? So what, Conners? I'm a big girl. I think I can handle it."
"So you're fine that he wants to take advantage of you?" I ask.
"I'm not going to let that happen," she tells me.
"Good."
"I'm sorry. When did you begin thinking you had any say on my dating life, Conners?" She turns toward me, pointing a finger at my chest.
"I'm just looking out for you," I respond.
"Well, don't. I don't need you playing Mr. Nice Guy all of a sudden. Stay in your fucking lane. And I'll stay in mine." She's looking at me with a stare of pure loathing and I bite down on the temptation to tell her how hot she looks when she's mad. Fuck.
I open my mouth to respond when a pair of hands wrap around my arm. "Come on, Carter. Let's dance."
And that's when I notice that they're playing a slow song. This is going to be a long night.
...
A/N
I honestly have no idea if this chapter is any good.
I was going to write the whole dance scene from Carter's POV, but I think we've had enough of his simping, and we need Sadie to come in and reel us back to rivals part of this rivals-to-lovers.
I hope you're enjoying the story so far!
Sadie's chapter with a continued dance scene coming soon...