Play Nice (Make the Play #3) Read online

  ASHLEY

  If it had been any other day, I would have turned down Hayes’ offer. In fact, on many other days I had said no to him. But today I need him. There’s no way I can walk into the school alone. I’m Ashley McIntosh. I’m always surrounded by other people; by girls who want to be like me and boys who want to be with me. Not alone. Not ever.

  Hayes may not be my first choice, but he’s better than nothing.

  Of course I don’t share this with him. Pretty sure if I do he’ll take off and never look back. The thought causes me to clutch his arm tighter. It’s weird how the tables have turned so quickly. I’m not used to being reliant on anyone. I’ve never been the needy girl. I’m the girl people need. For the past four years I’ve had an endless supply of people clamoring to be near me. Now I’m terrified of having no one.

  How has this happened?

  When Hayes and I enter the school hallway, I immediately spot Talia. She’s what happened. Anger thrashes in my veins. I made Talia. Before I took her under my wing, no one even knew who she was. Her popularity is all because of our friendship, and this is how she repays me? By stealing my boyfriend and making me look like a fool?

  When her head swivels in my direction, I narrow my eyes. I hold her gaze steady. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t expect me to cower. Her eyes flicker to Hayes, surprise evident. Taking advantage of the situation, I seductively rub his arm and smile. Hayes stiffens. He wears a knowing expression, and my stomach sours. He’s the only person at this school who’s being halfway decent toward me, and I’m treating him like a pawn. God, what is wrong with me?

  Talia approaches. “So this is how you thought you’d get back at me, huh?”

  Hayes face reddens, and he starts to pull away from me. But I hold fiercely to his arm. “What are you talking about?” I speak in my sweetest voice, feigning innocence.

  “Oh, come on, Ash. You can’t pull one over on me. We’ve been friends too long,” Talia responds.

  That’s it. Enough is enough. “Oh, we’re not friends,” I snap. “That all ended when you decided to hook up with my boyfriend!”

  “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black,” Talia answers smugly.

  “What?” I’m confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It’s a saying,” Hayes mumbles.

  “Whatever.” I shake my head, scowling at the look Talia’s giving me. It’s not quite a look of pity, but it’s close, and I don’t appreciate it at all.

  “It just means that this is the sort of thing you normally do to your friends.” She smirks. “Not as cool when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?”

  “What is it with you and all these idioms?” I ask, exasperated.

  “Oooh, I’m impressed. You knew the word ‘idiom’,” she says with a giggle.

  Why is she so mean all of the sudden? My head is spinning.

  “C’mon, Talia, back off,” Hayes says, and that’s when I realize he’s still holding my arm. I’m pretty sure he’s the only thing keeping me upright.

  And it makes me even more upset with Talia. “So maybe I got what I deserve. That’s what this was about, right? You putting me in my place,” I say. “But what about Hayes? He never hurt you, so why put him through this?”

  Talia’s eyebrows jump up. “Oh, now you’re concerned with Hayes? The guy you told me not to date because he was a,” she pauses to make air quotes “big fat tub a’ goo.” She chuckles. Hayes’ face pales. My stomach drops. “You’ve never said anything nice about Hayes, so don’t try to act all high and mighty now.”

  Hayes yanks his arm from mine. I turn to him, opening my mouth to apologize, but he silences my words with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but please, from now on, leave me the hell out of it.” Throwing us a disgusted look, he stalks down the hallway.

  “That was really low, Talia,” I speak under my breath.

  “They were your words, Ash,” she points out.

  She’s right. They were my words. And I haven’t only said them to her. I distinctly remember Emmy encouraging me to date Hayes, and I told her the same thing. Man, sometimes I can be a bitch. I feel sick.

  Talia studies my face. “Huh. Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you do have a conscience.”

  “No,” I say, not allowing her to see that she’s gotten to me. “You were right about me, but I was definitely wrong about you.”

  The bell rings and everyone scurries in different directions. Talia hurries down the hall. I stand in place until the hallway is cleared out, and then I let out a ragged breath.

  I should’ve stuck with my original plan and stayed in the car.

  ***

  The house is empty when I get home from school. After stepping inside, the air conditioner kicks on. I shiver. The scent of bleach mixed with potpourri wafts around me, causing my stomach to churn. I’m weary from the day, and my backpack slips from my shoulders. But I tug it back up. All of my friends discard their backpacks by the front door, but that’s not acceptable here. I have a hook on the wall in my bedroom, and it’s the only place where I can hang it. On a different day I might be rebellious and toss it on the ground, but not today. I’ve already been through enough. The last thing I want to do is heap Mom’s wrath on top of it. So I trek down the hallway to my bedroom and carefully hang my backpack on the hook near the doorway. Then I head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, maybe a snack.

  After taking a giant gulp of cold liquid, the front door pops open. Mom’s high heels click on the hardwood floors. My stomach tightens the closer she gets. When she reaches the kitchen, she freezes, her eyes widening as she takes me in.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d be home.” Her lips purse as if she’s eaten something sour. She fingers the pearls around her neck, clinking the beads against her acrylic nails. Stepping forward, her skirt swirls around her legs. But her hair doesn’t move. It stays sleek against her skin, not a hair out of place. Mom prides herself on appearing perfect, put together, like she has it all figured out.

  But she’s not fooling me. I know better.

  “School ended a half an hour ago,” I point out, screwing the cap back on my water bottle.

  “Well, that doesn’t mean you have to be home.” She glides past, her floral perfume enveloping me. I scoot out of the way as she reaches for the fridge door. “Shouldn’t you be out with your friends like a normal teenager?” After snatching out a bottle of chilled wine she slams the fridge shut and turns to me. “Why aren’t you with that cute boyfriend of yours?” Setting the wine bottle on the counter, she moves toward the cabinets.

  My stomach bottoms out. I bite my lip. “He’s not really my boyfriend anymore.”

  “Oh, Ashley, what did you do this time?”

  Telling her was a mistake. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? “I didn’t do anything, Mom. He messed up, not me.”

  After taking out a wine glass, she shrugs. “Guys mess up. It’s what they do. But that doesn’t mean you sit at home and pout.” Her gaze travels up and down my body. “What you need to do is go clean yourself up and go out. Get him back.” Rummaging through a nearby drawer, she fishes around for the wine opener. “Or better yet, find someone hotter.”

  Inwardly, I groan. The last thing I want to do is go out. Not after the day I’ve had. “Actually, I think I’ll just go hang out in my room.”

  Lifting up the wine cork, she nods noncommittally. “That’s the spirit. Get some beauty rest and start fresh tomorrow.”

  I wish I had a mom I could actually talk to about these kinds of things. A mom who would say helpful, nurturing things. “Yeah, okay,” I say quietly.

  “Oh, and just so you know, your dad will be gone all night. Work, you know?” She swats away the words like it’s no big deal, but I can tell it is. “And I’m on a diet again, so I’m sort of skipping dinner tonight.”

  Great. It’s not like Mom cooks very often, but at least when she’s eating we get take o
ut or something. Now I will have to fend for myself. It seems that nothing is going my way today.

  “And actually, you could probably stand to skip dinner too,” she adds. The words maim me like a punch to my gut.

  I glance down at my body, wondering if she’s right. Is that why Josh hooked up with Talia? Because she’s thinner than I am? Talia is thin. Like rail thin. I’m not big, but definitely curvier. Reaching down, I pinch a fat roll near the top of my jeans. Ugh. No dinner tonight then. As I trudge back to my room, my stomach is already growling. But I’m determined to stay strong. Mom’s right. It’s my senior year. I should be out with friends. I should have a hot boyfriend.

  It’s starting off rocky but I can get myself back on track. And I’m determined to do just that.

  HAYES

  “Hey, Big Guy!”

  I cringe at Grandpa’s words. Normally it doesn’t bother me when he greets me this way. He’s been affectionately calling me “Big Guy” since I was a kid. He doesn’t mean it as a slam, but today it sort of feels like one.

  Still, I won’t take my frustrations out on him. After closing the front door, I walk into the family room. My tennis shoes leave footprints in the newly vacuumed carpet. The room smells faintly of cough drops and coffee. “Hey, Gramps.” I clamp my hand down gently on his bony shoulder. “How was your day?”

  “Eh.” He shrugs from where he rocks in his recliner. His gaze travels to the blaring television across from him. “Same old, same old. Watched a little TV, took a nap, ate some lunch. Nothin’ to write home about.” It’s always the same response.

  I chuckle. “C’mon, Gramps, be honest with me. I know you were out chasing the ladies around town.”

  With a slight smile, he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Not with these bad knees. If I tried they’d be picking me up instead of the other way around.”

  “Sounds like a win to me,” I banter back.

  He waggles his finger. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  I laugh, but can’t help feeling a little sadness as my gaze lands on the walker near his chair. When I was younger I thought my grandpa was larger than life. He’s actually the one who taught me how to swing a bat. Baseball had always been Grandpa’s favorite sport. He’d been playing since he was a kid, and he taught me and my brother how to play.

  For a few years he even played in a rec league, and our family used to attend many of his games. I’ll never forget the feeling of pride that welled up in me as I watched him when he was up to bat. I’d liked baseball before that, but it was during those moments that my love for the game took root. It seems odd that the same man who stood at the plate and smashed the ball over the fence for a home run now has to use the aid of a walker to simply walk from his recliner to the restroom a few feet away.

  “Tell me about your day,” Grandpa says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I toss my backpack on the ground and sink down on the couch. For a moment I contemplate lying to him, but I know that’s not smart. He’ll see right through me. Besides, he knows what happened on Friday night. “It wasn’t the best,” I finally answer.

  Reaching forward, he turns the volume down on the TV, and I’m grateful. Now I won’t have to yell over it. When Grandpa first moved in with us a couple of years ago, it took awhile to get used to how loud he had to have everything. His alarm, the television, the radio. My family has even gotten louder. We’ve all upped the volume on our speaking voices. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m not with my grandpa when I’m out in public because I’ve grown accustomed to talking loudly at home. My older brother left for college several months after Grandpa moved in, but he said even in that short time he found himself doing the same thing. Of course that makes sense. Jameson and I are a lot alike. We both like to joke around, we both play baseball. However, I’m the only one who gets called “Big Guy.” But that’s because Jameson is tall and lanky. He got Mom’s genes, while I favor Dad.

  Grandpa leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Is Talia together with that other fella?”

  I love how Grandpa calls Josh the “other fella.” I’m actually tempted to use that now. Lord knows, I’ve called Josh a lot of names, but never that. “No, she’s not.”

  “Well, that’s good, right?”

  “I don’t know.” Sighing, I scratch the back of my neck. “Honestly, I don’t care what she does now as long as she stays far away from me.” It’s crazy to feel this way when last week I couldn’t get enough of her. I can tell Grandpa’s thinking the same thing by the way he’s eyeing me. For months I’ve been parading around here like a lovesick fool, talking about Talia nonstop, calling her, going out with her, having her over.

  Sitting up straight, Grandpa shakes his head. “She seemed like such a sweet girl.”

  “Yeah, she did,” I agree. Glancing at Grandpa, my stomach twists, and I regret ever inviting Talia over. She’d eaten dinner here, talked to my grandpa, and helped my mom with dishes. Now her memory clings to my home, my place of solitude. It’s like I can’t get away from her, and it angers me further.

  The sound of the garage door opening catches my attention, and my head snaps up. A minute later, Mom steps into the house. She drops her purse and keys on the ground and exhales, dropping into a nearby chair. Her hair is disheveled, her nurse’s uniform wrinkled. Even though she appears exhausted, she manages a broad smile. “How was your first day back, Hayes?”

  I throw Grandpa a quick warning look, and his subtle nod tells me he’ll cover for me. “It was great.” Mom doesn’t know that Talia and I broke up. She was working all through the weekend, and I didn’t want to burden her with it.

  “Good.” Her head rolls to the side. “What about your day?”

  “Fine.” Grandpa shrugs.

  Mom sighs. “Well, I’m going to go take a shower and change. Think of what you want for dinner. I’m ordering take out.”

  I nod, as she hoists herself out of her chair. She ambles over to me slowly, leans down and gently presses her lips to my forehead. Then she shuffles out of the room. After she’s gone, Grandpa turns to me, his eyes crinkled in concern.

  “I’m sorry Talia hurt you, Big Guy,” he says, as if there never was a break in our earlier conversation.

  “She didn’t hurt me,” I snap defensively.

  Grandpa gives me a pointed look, and I blow out a breath.

  “Sorry.” My gaze drops to my hands. “I just don’t wanna talk about her anymore.” Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

  Honestly, it’s a good thing she’s not dating Josh. At least now I don’t have to worry about running into her at my baseball games or practices. I’m not sure I can stomach watching them make out right in front of me again. I remember how angry Christian used to get when Emmy and Josh used to go at it after practice or before a game. It was different, because Emmy wasn’t his ex. She hadn’t cheated on him with Josh. It was sort of the opposite with them – Emmy cheated on Josh with Chris. But I get it. They had something real. They were in love. In fact, they still are. I’m not saying that cheating is ever right, but in their instance it’s forgivable. What Talia did to me isn’t. She betrayed me for no reason, and with a guy who’s an ass after I’d treated her so well. It doesn’t make any sense.

  I’m upset with Josh, but not like I am with Talia. This is what the guy does. I expect this from him. Besides, he was with Ashley, and their relationship was a joke.

  I pause, recalling the sad look on Ashley’s face this morning when I found her sitting in her car, appearing lost and vulnerable. My stomach knots, and I wonder once again if I’ve misjudged her. Then the memory of the words she said about me to Talia come flooding back, and I realize that she’s exactly who I think she is. I may have wanted to believe the best about her. I may have felt a moment of compassion towards her. We may have even had a second where we connected, or at the very least we got along. But it doesn’t mean anything. She’s precisely who she’s always been.

  And I’m better off without her.

&nb
sp; ASHLEY

  “Heather!” I call as I round the corner heading toward the cafeteria. Students whizz past me, smelling of deodorant and BO. A few feet in front of me Heather stops, pivoting. I skid to halt and smile. “Hey.”

  But she doesn’t return my smile. Her lips remain in a hard line, her eyes narrowing. She crosses her arms over her chest, and my insides coil. Heather and I have been friends for years. I mean, not like besties or anything, but she’s always been in my circle. “What do you want, Ashley?”

  I cock my head to the side. “Why are you giving me attitude?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time for this conversation. Talia’s waiting for me inside.”

  A shoulder bumps mine, and I swiftly turn to glare. A couple of boys holding instruments hurry past. When I swing back to face Heather, she’s moving away from me.

  “Heather!” I snap angrily. Since when does she ignore me? There was a time she practically worshipped the ground I walked on. None of this makes any sense. Ever since Talia and Josh made out at the party on Friday, everyone has been giving me the cold shoulder. I don’t get it. “What the hell is going on? Talia hooks up with my boyfriend, and somehow I’ve become the bad person here?”

  Heather smirks. “No, Ashley, you haven’t just become the bad person. You’ve always been the bad person.”

  “What?” I recoil from her words.

  “Oh c’mon. Don’t act so surprised.” Heather flips a strand of hair over her shoulder. “You know you’re mean to everyone.” She pauses, her expression pensive. “Or maybe you don’t. But you are. And we’re all kinda tired of it.”

  “Did Talia put you up to this?” I place a hand on my waist. “You know she’s always wanted to be me. That’s what this is really about.”

  Heather snorts. “Listen to yourself. You don’t get it.”

  “No, you don’t get it.” Anger flaring, I step closer to her. “Talia’s using you. She’s using all of us to climb up the social ladder.”