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The One That Got Away
Introducing our high school sweetheart story, starring our sassy soccer captain queen, Peach and a mystery Lover Boy which will be revealed as you read!
A story that all started with a simple math exam...
🍑 ⚽️ 🍾 🫦 📚 🍂 ⚡️
The students of Boston University mingle and walk to class, some of them alone and listening to music, others walking side by side with friends, some eating lunch in the dining area, others enjoying the fall scenery and taking a break from school work to grab some coffee...
Others...struggling with taking their math exam...
You tap your pencil on the small desk to your right as your math professor sits at his desk way in front of the classroom.
Professor Boyd has been a math professor at Boston University for almost 40 years. And supposedly is so good at his job he could got his two 10 year old daughters to do polynomials.
But that didn't matter because you're so screwed and apparently two 10 year olds are smarter than you.
You're not playing the finals against the girls from Harvard. Coach Avery is going to have a stroke, and after she's recovered she's going to kill you, for multiple reasons.
Let's start with not studying for your algebra finals. Two, for procrastinating studying for your algebra finals until last night. Three, for going out every night when you should've been in your dorm studying.
Four, for not attending those stupid study groups she made you sign up for to avoid a possible situation like failing your exam. Which would ultimately plummet your GPA so low to the point you wouldn't see a soccer ball ever again.
Looking around at your classmates, you envy the concentration on their faces as they scribble and erase answers. Towards your right a few rows down sat Andy and his friends, Steve and Colin.
Colin catches you staring and winks at you, he's always been a little flirt, and always tries to get you to sleep with him, but Andy says his friends are off limits.
Maybe you should've asked Andy for help, instead you were out every night with your soccer team celebrating every win since the beginning of the season.
Andy's always been the one to help you out with homework ever since the 4th grade. Which was when you met the quiet, smart, brunette.
Now wasn't the time to dwell on what could've been, you needed to focus.
You had a blank quiz in front of you along with an empty scantron. This couldn't be impossible. You paid some attention to that one inequalities lesson, that has to count for something right?
Suddenly most of the class begins to shuffle in their bags, you see as Andy and the majority of your peers pull out calculators.
Yup...those rectangular things that are supposed to help you get your answer, and yours was at your dorm. You can unfortunately see it clearly sitting at the top of your desk.
Okay. Now you were back to definitely being screwed again.
Walking out of the lecture room after the most slow, torturing, hour and a half of your life, you're met with Andy, Steve and Colin.
Andy usually waits for you after class, him and Colin are just there speaking about whatever boys talk about these days.
"Dude, I was in heaven," Colin chuckles explaining to Andy after he grabbed his shoulder, "it was like Christmas for me all over again. One kissing me with that sweet tongue of hers and the other on her knees—"
"Hello, boys," you clearly interrupt Colin's sexual encounter, possibly one that happened just this past weekend at his birthday bash.
At least he's distracting you for a few seconds from the pain and suffering that exam you took will cause for you soon...
And, yes, was he pulled into his room by two of your sorority sisters? Sure. You watched it occur with your own eyes from the couch.
From what you've heard from the majority of the female study body, he's great in bed. But you've never been interested in confirming that.
"Are you bragging about your sexual experiences again, Colin?" Steve appears and chimes in, a sad look in those blue eyes, "first of all that's so disrespectful to the two women you just used, and have I told you you're a dick?"
The boys all live in the same dorm floor, a few yards across your sorority house, most of them play some kind of sport whether it's basketball, or football, hockey, baseball, but mostly basketball.
Andy's friend group are all different in their own ways, Steve is kind of like the dad of the group, he's also the captain so he has to keep them all in check.
Cole is the mom of the group of course, always taking care of everyone before himself, you like to think of Andy, Colin, Johnny and Bucky and the rest of them as the troublemakers. Always getting themselves into trouble, that Steve most likely pulls them out of.
"See," Colin turns to face Andy, then back to Steve as Colin poked his chest, "this is what happens when you're friendzoned by the girl you can't stop wet dreaming."
You visibly see Steve's face tighten, with anger, "I don't wet dream about her. She's my best friend."
Steve is always with one girl, a new recruit to the sorority, so you don't know too much about her, but you do know she's always with Steve.
"Your best friend who you're completely in love with yet too scared to make a move," Colin adds just adding to the fuel.
Andy senses the heat in the air, so he decides to lighten things up, like you're used to him always doing, "I think having a girl best friend is great, you can do stuff like this to them," Andy reaches and messes your hair up, tapping your head like as if you were a little puppy.
You groan and fix your hair, swatting his hand away as he chuckles.
~
"What's wrong?" Your friend appears in your doorway. As you sat at your desk dwelling on your mistakes. Every hook up you had these past three weeks, every drink, every minute you spent not studying for this stupid algebra exam.
It's been 2 days since the exam, and of course your professor graded all of them right away, and not after the Harvard game like you needed him to do in your favor.
The numbers 35 circled in red, plus a small, "see me." Written beside it wasn't a pretty sight to look at, yet you kept staring at it. A hand on your cheek, bummed out, you're the captain, and you let the girls down by auto-benching yourself for the Harvard game.
Those girls mean business, they don't play around, and since they're rivals, playing is such a thrill and an adrenaline rush, mostly because your team could definitely beat them no matter how much smack they talk.
"Failed my exam," You speak it into existence, turning to see your friend making her way towards your bed. You're not sure why you're so hung up about this, you anticipated this grade as soon as your peers brought out their calculators.
Living in a sorority meant every girl had one roommate, this house was big but not that big,
The occasional sleepover once a month happened down in the huge living room, which you're pretty sure would be a dream come true for Colin.
Your friend chuckles as if you had said a joke, "the exam that Coach specifically said if you failed you were benched?" She thinks you're lying.
"That's the one," smiling sarcastically you sigh and sit up from your swirly chair, hopping onto your bed and resting your head on your pillow.
"Why couldn't you be a math major so you could've helped me study, Bib?" You blame her, and turn your head on your pillow, sighing. Mentally preparing for Coach Avery's reaction.
She may be on the shorter side but she was all anger.
Bib is an English major, she knows all about the famous authors, and literature, and Shakespeare and so on...you on the other hand fall asleep when you read or whenever she starts talking about main ideas and the importance of details.
Everyone calls her bib, short for bibliophile, a person who enjoys reading so much, it becomes a passion.
Despite being a book worm, she's one of the best left wings you've ever seen. With one hell of a right foot kick. When you first met her you didn't peg her to be a full on soccer athlete, simply because you couldn't see past her good girl persona.
She has the sweetest, kindest face paired with a soft spoken voice. Seriously, even if she's been pushed around or provoked on the field, the girl doesn't say a word back.
Clearly not your style, you like to vocalize your feelings.
"Those Harvard girls are going to kill us and laugh while doing it." Bib covers her eyes, but her body perks up when an idea looms over her, "hold on, what about Andy? He could help you study for the makeup exam."
You shake your head, changing your position on your bed and looking up at your ceiling, "I know what he wants and I can't do it for him, B. I know him, he'll want something in return."
"I mean Andy is pretty attractive, I find him very nice to look at, and 90% of the female student population at BU would agree with me, so I think you're good..."
You gag, "gross, he's like my brother. I've seen him pick his nose when he was eight and go through a Star Wars phase where his room was completely Yoda theme."
"I'm going to get our washed uniforms from the laundry room," Bib hops off your bed, leaving you to think about your remaining options, "I think Sadie is stealing our socks. I saw she had a questionable amount of socks in her drawer the other day."
"Confront her about it," You smirk, teasing bib because she's all "violence isn't the answer," type of gal.
"You know the thought of confrontation alone makes me sweat," Bib frowns at you before departing the room you both dhare.
Leaving you alone come to one conclusion.
One goal.
You're playing against those Harvard girls.
~
"Andy, please, the makeup is on Thursday, my game against Harvard is on Friday. Coach Avery will see my improved grade and I can play!" You exasperate, pressing your hands together to visualize the desperation, following Andy around his room as he got ready for something.
"No." He groans, sliding his shoes on, shaking his head, "no, no and no."
"Please."
"No." He repeats, not even looking at you.
His math exam was on his desk, a perfect 98 circled in red, just staring back at you, laughing. No sad, disappointed note next to it.
After a moment at looking at his answers, you realize you need him to at least get a passing grade because what the heck were all these responses and symbols?
"Andy! Please. What do you want?" You're desperate at this point, "money? I'll pay you whatever you want. Booze? You know I know a guy. Weed?..."
"Y/n, stop," Andy puts his hands on your shoulders, halting your rant, "I don't want any of those things. Steve forbade us to smoke after..." his eyes drift away so does his memory but he quickly snaps out of it,
"look, If I had the time to tutor you I would. But we're playing against the UMass guys and they mean business. Coach Levinson is making us practice twice a day plus I'm flying away next weekend to see Mom for her birthday. I'm sorry, I can't."
You frown, you know it's selfish and wrong, but you don't care about any of that, especially the hockey part, you're in a desperate situation and you just want your best friend to drop everything for you. Like you would for him.
"I just need you this weekend, until my game I swear. And we can work on stuff a little each day, and I can practice for the makeup. I need you to do me a solid, Andy."
The exasperation on your face makes Andy's chest clench, he doesn't like to see you in any discomfort, you're like a little sister to him and he made a promise to a certain someone that he'd take care of you.
Andy looks at your outfit, a black leather jacket and a black dress underneath a little too high for his approval, makeup evident on your face especially with the eyeliner he knew you were doing anything but studying, "and where are you headed?"
Your eyes break away from his, as you gulp, and quickly think of a responsible excuse, "to the library."
Andy gives you his dad look, and you huff annoyed, "the football team is having a party. Teddy is going to be there and he invited me. Give me a break."
Andy rolls his eyes, "you're still entertaining that asshole?" He steps closer to you, "first of all I'm disappointed you're not in your dorm room studying for the makeup, and second of all, I still can't picture you with an asshole named Teddy."
"His name is Theodore, but they call him Ted—"
"—I clearly understand that, Y/n." Andy finishes for you, since the break up that almost killed you and left a wound so big in your heart, you've slept with 4 guys, and well you're currently just having fun hooking up with them.
A few moments go by before Andy's speaking again, "listen, I'm already pissed that you're sleeping around, this is the fourth guy in two months, Y/n, and you know if he were to find out that you're sleeping around he'll be—"
"—upset?" You interrupt this time, "I don't care, Andy. You're not my dad. And besides, he left me. He broke up with me. He goes to another school, when he knew damn well our friend group dream was to attend BU together. He's out there living his life, I'm living mine. I don't want to talk about him anymore. Now," you take a deep breath, "will you help me?"
Andy thinks about it, his eyes squinting as he watched your sad face, you loved playing soccer since he met you that one autumn day in the 4th grade.
"I want you to get me a date with your sorority sister," Andy's smirk grows big across his face. Not this again.
"Jesus Christ," you sway your hands to your sides, "how many times do you need to take a hint? She's not interested, dude. She wasn't interested the other 6 times you made me ask her."
"It wasn't six it was only two and maybe she changed her mind this time around?" Andy shrugs his shoulders, he wasn't bad looking, or stupid which were two great qualities.
~
"Please, just go out with him for one date! I'll pay you at this point, I'll do anything." You follow your sorority sister who was in her cheerleading outfit, joining her in her master suite.
"Who knows? Maybe he's your husband and your baby daddy and I did you a favor!" You continue to beg. Anything to play.
Andy's heartthrob crush AKA the girl he never stops talking about, was the head of the cheerleading team plus the president of the sorority.
She was used to all the male attention, and from the time you've known her since freshman year, you've come to see she has a type.
And Andy is not her type. No matter how handsome or smart he is. No matter how much you convince her that he is her type.
"I'm not interested, Y/n, he's real cute and sweet, but I'm just not." She toes off her cheer shoes and puts her hair down taking the bow out as well.
She slides her skirt down, which if you were a fresh out of high school, you'd be freaked out, but two years living on this campus and sorority you've learned privacy isn't really a thing.
"I deserve to know why then." You demand, waving your hands up, wearing your black jacket and dress, because of course Andy made you walk back to the sorority house and ask.
Andy's heart throb turns to face you, she slides up some loose sleep shorts up her thighs, seems tired yet thoughtful, and bites her lip, "between us," she starts and you slightly nod, taking a seat beside you on her bed, her cheeks what up.
"Something about Colin Shea makes my heart pound."
Her confession makes you drop your mouth, and you choke back a laugh, thinking she's joking, but still you're absolutely shocked at this information.
"Colin?" You echo and chuckle at the bizarre news, "as in hooks up with half the females at this school, Colin?"
"Yeah," she dreamily sighs, "we've been hooking up and I don't know...I feel like what we have isn't just hooking up."
You bury your face in one of her million pillows on her bed and groan.
This isn't going the way you want it to. In danger of not wanting to break poor Andy's heart. You're gonna have to sit the Harvard game out.
~
"She's into who?"
It's the next day, already a day wasted for studying for your makeup exam. As you sat on Andy's bed, watching him pace his dorm room.
"I can't say. But, just take this as a sign. Get over her. What about Bib? She's sweet, and low key, she doesn't like to go out. Your kind of girl. I can definitely set you up."
Andy shakes his head, getting your hopes down once again, "Bib is cute, but my heart doesn't have her name on it."
You groan and loud, making sure he hears the desperation in your voice, "Why are you so hung up on her?"
"I don't even know." Andy explains, sighing, and taking a seat in his desk chair, you visibly see the way he's so in love with his crush, but the way he zones out, probably thinking about her, "I want to find out, but obviously you see she has me jumping through loopholes. She's playing hard to get."
You laugh at that, "no she's not, Barber, take the hint. She's not interested."
"Agree to disagree, Peach." He places his hands behind his head, giving you a whimsical look, "that girl will be mine, you heard it here first."
"I'm so screwed." You lay down on Andy's bed. All hope gone. Vanished.
Andy's door opens, he shares a room with Cole, who's from a small farmhouse out west of Boston. You don't really know why he's playing football, if he's from farmland. But you do know he's the biggest sweetie on this planet.
Most girls at your sorority house are all heart eyes over him because he also happens to be the biggest gentleman on this planet too. Immediately differentiating himself from 89% of the male student body at BU.
"Hey," Cole's way of speaking is so sweet too, he's very polite, "you alright? Need some tea?" Ah, he even has a bit of an accent.
"Tea would be great, Turner. Plus those cookies. You're a sweetheart." You press your hands together thanking him as he walks out again to the kitchen.
Anytime you come he always gives you some tea and some cookies, he just has that motherly vibe. He loves to read too, first guy you've ever met that does.
"Stop taking advantage of my roommate, now, I'm sorry I can't help you, Y/n, I really am. I would if I could." Andy apologizes, sitting at this desk chair as he packs his practice equipment.
"Thanks for nothing, Andrew," you sit up from his bed and stomp away to his door, there was nothing left but to study yourself. You may get a higher grade but you weren't totally sure if you would be able to pass.
You're halfway down the hall when Andy calls for you to come back, which makes you smirk because certainly he feels bad for his friend.
Approaching his room Andy has a fizzled look on his face, "I know a guy who could do polynomials and equations in his sleep."
You cross your arms, has it really come to this point?
The look on those Harvard girls' faces when you hand their asses to them is all you can think about.
"He's only 20 minutes away. Call him."
~
The cool autumn afternoon air comes with a crisp breeze to it, it's actually calming your nerves as you sit in front of the student center.
You look around to see if maybe you could watch him arrive, but that makes you way too nervous so you decide to grab your math textbook and see if you could try to grasp some comprehension on these stupid math terms.
Conversations from the students around you filter in and out as you try your best to read and understand what exactly polynomials are.
When a silhouette appears on your textbook, turning to your side your heart races, thank god Andy did you at least one favor and called him for you, because whenever he's around you can't speak.
Not after the last time you saw him.
"Hi peach," Hayden's soft smile grows as he looks at your outfit, your soccer socks almost to your knees, crocs on, and your practice uniform on which looked so good on you.
Anything looks good on you. You didn't feel the need to dress up for him, he's not your boyfriend anymore, besides you have practice after this.
You can't speak. It just isn't happening. He takes a seat beside you, a notebook and a textbook slanted in his hand and a pencil above his ear. That pink fucking shirt looks so good on him, only some men can rock the pink, Hayden definitely is one of those guys.
He still looks as handsome as he did a few months ago. The anxiety in your stomach is telling you this was a bad idea. A stupid idea. The anger bubbling inside you loosens your tongue a bit.
"Hayden, how have you been? Hm," he you hum disappointedly, "fine I assume." You answer for him, and he chuckles at the sharp tongue you have, "I've been doing great."
"I'm hanging in there," he responds after you, a smile still on his lips, like he can't contain the excitement of getting to see you again, even if you were glaring at him, "I was glad Andy called...and texted where I should meet you...then at what time I should meet you...and then called again to let me know you were waiting for me."
Hayden indicates and jabs at you for not contacting him directly. Well, you needed to get Andy to do at least something for you.
"How's soccer going?" He wonders, and yet you still can't meet his eyes.
"It's going great." You don't say much, but you use the same words in your answers, which is all Hayden needs to know you're still pissed after what happened.
You take a deep breath, opening up your folder to grab the study sheet your professor handed out at yesterday's study group, "let's get this over with."
Hayden and Andy have been friends since the 9th grade, they have been inseparable ever since. Andy and you were friends first, you guys are from the same town, your parents are best friend and all still hangout.
Andy's kind of an adopted little rescue for you, and then when Andy became best friends with Hayden, you had no choice but to adopt him too.
They get along so well because they've both been in similar categories such as handsome, smart, mathematically skilled, and basketball fans.
Hayden attending Harvard after high school did not hurt their friendship because they're always calling, hanging out, or texting.
It was your relationship with him that you wished wouldn't have been hurt, and in the end it was the only thing destroyed.
Hayden looks over at you, that stupid smirk impossible to get off, you don't trust yourself to look at him for more than a few seconds without feeling like you were about to cry in front of him because of how much you missed him.
"Let's see," Hayden scratches his upper lip, that gorgeous dimple indenting his cheek, "show me your exam first, I need to know how much damage exactly I need to fix."
You laugh sarcastically at his second jab at you, stuffing your 35 grade in his waiting hand. You watch as his eyes gently roam the page, before flipping.
Hayden was handsome. But to you he was beautiful, inside and out. His soft facial features make your heart pound, his lashes, his rosy cheeks, his sandy hair, those dimples, he was just perfect.
"Mhm, so we have a lot of work to do," He finally says, "just as I suspected."
"Oh shut up," you take your exam back and hand him the makeup study sheet, "not all of us could've been mathematically gifted like you and Andy."
Hayden just watched you with a big smirk on his lips as a stressed crease appears in your forehead, a small yet annoyed huff escaping your mouth as you look away from him. Not daring to look in his eyes for more than half a second.
He misses you is what he realizes then. Your sarcasm, that attitude he learned how to deal with by silencing you in bed, those perfect lips of yours, that confident, bossy, sexy girl he fell so hard for at just 17 years old.
"Eh, you should see the guys at Harvard, they're at least three math courses ahead of me yet we're the same age and in the same year."
You don't say anything to that, stupid Harvard University took away your high school sweetheart, your boyfriend away from you. Which is maybe part of the reason why you want to beat them so bad on Friday.
"Peach, I just wanted to say I'm sorr—" Hayden starts by saying your nickname, and even made the mistake of surrendering to muscle memory, placing his hand on top of yours, making you flinch.
That nickname, the fucking nickname, one given to you by him, you can't bear him saying it, not after what happened, he wants to finish his sentence yet you have a habit of interrupting, he knows that well—and hates it.
You move your hand abruptly, the last thing you need is him touching you.
"—you're here to help me with my makeup exam, and that way you'll get your hundred bucks and you don't have to come back to BU. That's what Andy told you, didn't he?"
It's what you and Andy agreed on.
"Yeah, yeah, that's what he said," Hayden nods, wetting his lips briefly, before prying his gaze off you and back into the paper as you explained every subject that you're confused on.
A guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach emerged as he read each algebra question.
💌
What the Hell - Avril Lavigne
Peach x Hayden Drysdale
The High School Sweethearts Story
a/n: eeekkk!! 📚 here we are, the start of another book my lovelies, thank you everyone who read up until this point, I so appreciate you🌸🌈✨ this is the start of something amazing, I can't wait to experience another book with you guys! 😍
First we are starting with The High School Sweethearts; Hayden & Peach. Exploring their relationship after they broke up, and how they spend more time as Hayden tutors her...
And...did you catch Hayden's last name, yup, I so did that, I hope you guys will continue reading to learn more about Hayden (and his given surname) and his past with Peach! 🍑
I'll also be adding a song from the playlist at the end of every chapter to really captivated everything ⭐️🎶💌