“Thank you so much, that’s really, really sweet of you,” she tells Mrs. Nelly.
“You need anything, you come ask me.” She winks at Rosemary and then gives me a big grin.
After I pay for our lunches—even though Rosemary objects—we take a seat in the corner of the cafeteria away from everyone.
‘I’ve got something for you,” I say when we sit down.
“What?” Her smile drops a little, and I wonder if she’s waiting on me to hand her a bag of dog shit or something.
“It’s my number.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve already got that.” She’s still a little hesitant as I reach into my pocket and take out the piece of felt with the safety pin on the back.
“I mean my jersey number.” I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal about it now that I’m actually doing it. “It’s nothing. Some of the players give them to their friends to wear.”
“Oh.” Her smile is back as she takes it from me and then immediately pins it to her jean jacket. “I love it. Thanks.”
“Walter wears one on game days too,” I say proudly, which makes her laugh. God, is there any sound better than that?
“Is he your biggest fan?”
“Nah, that’s probably my mom because she forces him to put it on.”
Our little corner of the cafeteria feels like it’s miles away from the school. I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt this happy. All my worries about everything other than this moment fade away as I look at the light spilling through her long hair. I memorize each tiny feature and mannerism as she talks like it’s the last time I’m going to look at her.
It’s not until a chill passes between us that I realize someone has come into our safe space and changed the atmosphere. Rosemary stops talking and retreats into herself as I turn around and find Jack Porter standing over me.
Chapter Seven
ROSEMARY
Talking with Tate last night was wonderful, and now it feels like he’s an oversized angel sent to make my final year of high school bearable. I’d like to think my grandma had a part in that, and she’s still watching out for me.
Although right when I thought I was off Jack’s radar, here he is. I’ve done my best to avoid him, which has actually been harder than dodging his father. Nathan Porter was at my house once again this morning. At first, he stayed clear of me, but now he’s making small talk. I guess he assumes I’m keeping my mouth shut.
It was so uncomfortable when he showed up last night and my mom wasn’t back from work yet. I didn’t want to let him in, but there wasn’t much of a choice. He gives me the creeps the same way Jack does. Everyone else fawns over them, and at school I see a different girl every period chasing after Jack. He’s all alone right now, which is probably why he’s over here annoying Tate.
“You’re the new girl, right?” Jack gives me a bored expression, which works for me. I don’t want him to find me interesting, but this is probably an act. He’s the kind of guy that would think pretending not to know me would make me want him. “Got a name?”
Tate is glaring at Jack, but he doesn’t realize it. Jack might be feigning boredom, but his attention is fully on me.
“Rosemary.”
“Rosie. I’m Jack, but I’m sure you already know that.” I guess he really is pretending that we've never met before.
“Rosemary,” Tate corrects him.
I’m not sure why because Tate calls me Rosie; my grandma was the only other person to do it.
“What about Mary?” Jack smirks as his eyes drop to my chest. “Like the virgin.”
Tate’s up and out of his seat in a flash, and his hand is on Jack’s throat before I can process what’s happening. He’s not choking him, but he’s got a firm hold with an imminent threat.
“You better watch it,” Tate warns.
I stand, thinking maybe I can break them up, but I’ve got no clue how I would manage it. I don’t want Tate getting in trouble because of some asshole that for some reason is looking for a fight. Jack knew his comment would set Tate off, and he said it anyway.
“Do it. Hit me,” Jack baits, but Tate doesn’t make a move. “She wouldn't be a virgin Mary when I was—”
“Stop!” I grab a hold of Tate’s forearm before he can do anything he’ll regret, and I realize the whole cafeteria has gone quiet. “Please,” I say, softer this time as I stare up into his eyes. Tate has always been a gentle giant around me, and something tells me he needs me to calm him down.
Tate releases his hold on Jack, but Jack keeps going and tries to shove at Tate’s chest. Tate doesn’t move an inch, and his hands are fisted at his side. There’s not a doubt in my mind that one hit from Tate would take Jack down.
“Porter!” a voice booms across the cafeteria, and I actually recognize it because I hear it each day when I come and go from school. The coach is always on the field shouting something. “My office. Now.”
“Trying to get at the new girl and my title. You should be the one who’s watching it,” Jack mutters under his breath so only the three of us can hear. I dig my fingers into Tate's arm, silently begging him to not give Jack the satisfaction.
“You know what happens when I have to ask twice, boy,” Coach barks at him.
Jack turns and practically stomps off like a toddler. After this confrontation, I know I’m definitely in Jack’s crosshairs.
“It’s fine,” I tell Tate now that the cafeteria has gone from silent to chattering again. “So Friday is game day. Does that mean I wear the shirt to school on Friday?”
I can feel some of the tension leave Tate’s shoulders, and I don’t want to, but I let go of him. It’s not like I could have really stopped him. I’m not sure anyone in this whole school could have.
“Yeah,” Tate finally says before he sits back down.
“What was that really about?” I ask, wanting to know the whole story because I know it can’t be only about me.
Tate talks so highly of his mom and some of the other influential women in his life. He wouldn’t stand by and let anyone make crude remarks about them. But it’s not as though I’m his girl. Jack has what we are all wrong. I’ve been friend-zoned. It stung when he didn’t try to kiss me, but I would never tell him that. He’s been more than a good friend, and I told myself it was for the best. A kiss could ruin our friendship, and right now he’s my lifeline.
“Guess he got word that he’s not going to be captain this season.”
“Really? Isn’t he the quarterback?” I don’t know much about football, but I thought the quarterback was always the captain.
“He is.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you might be getting that title instead?” Tate nods, still pissed. I think he wants to go after Jack. “He wanted you to hit him. Would that get you benched?”
“Most likely, but Porter gets away with a lot of shit because of his father. There's been a few times he should’ve been benched or kicked off the team, but he always manages to be on the field.” The mention of Jack’s father makes my stomach turn.