Only If She Stayed

03. Half of the Truth

I DIDN'T AGREE TO DITCH. SO WHEN SCHOOL WAS LET OUT, we wasted around fifteen minutes, loitering on the front steps with Edgar's basketball teammates. After the bell rang, I wanted to rush home and take a shower before starting on my English homework, but Edgar wanted to socialize a bit before we left. He had picked me up this morning so he was my only ride home.

Edgar's arm wrapped around my body and his hand had a strong hold on my hip. I stood there, thinking silent thoughts as they talked about a party going on over at Orson High this weekend.

Orson High was the neighboring high school and an obvious rival when it came to all things sports-related. For some odd reason, they occasionally went to each other's party, acting as if there wasn't a haze of hatred floating over their heads. The tension was ignored for one night of underage drinking and they put on their brave faces to give off an appearance that they were on good terms.

From my peripheral vision, I saw a girl skipping down the steps and strolling to where we were standing near the bottom of the steps. Raising my hand up to my brows, I blocked out the blinding sunlight to see who it was.

"Hey Reagan," I said as she approached our group. I grinned over at her and moved away from Edgar so I could give her a hug.

Reagan Pike was the only girl at West Vista High that I hung out with off campus. Not including the Dance Team, of course. Reagan was the Co-Captain, so naturally we had to be around each other a lot - given the fact that I was the Captain.

Reagan was a little dorky at times and freaked-out whenever a new video game was released. That was technically how we started our first conversation in Middle School. We made a bunch of incoherent noises while watching a trailer for a new game that was coming out in 2011. Since then, we've been openly nerding-out about nearly everything. From hot new staff members to weird photoshopped nudes. The list was endless.

We were in the middle of a conversation when Edgar squeezed my hip softly. I looked up to the countless number of eye balls looking at us. "Babe, do you want to?"

I groaned internally. I didn't like it when he used that word. It was cringe-worthy and it didn't send butterflies into my stomach like it used to, all those months ago. Now when he said it, it felt a little wrong. Like the word didn't wrap around his tongue the right way anymore.

"Hmm? What is it?" I murmured, glancing over at him and ignoring the issue at hand. "I didn't catch what you were trying to say."

"I asked if you wanted to go the party."

I shook my head and eased back into his lean, firm body. "I'm not interested. I've got to hold try-outs next Monday and I don't want to have a hangover while going in to judge."

"We could still go though. The try-outs are pretty late in the day." Reagan reminded me. "Also, we only need to fill in one space. It shouldn't take that long."

"Oh, you guys have try-outs?" Tyler the Fuckboy chimed in. "What happened?"

Yeah right. Like you care.

"Patrica Carter sprained her ankle during winter break," I explained. "She went out camping with her parents. During one of the hikes, she ended up accidentally falling and messing up her ankle."

"That really sucks," Tyler said with a slow shake of his head that almost made me believe he had a soul, but that was quickly changed when he said this next: "She was one of the few girls on the dance team who actually filled out those tight spandex shorts."

Reagan's hand met her forehead, unable to look at him any longer. "You're unbelievable. Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"I've got a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a girl in spandex shorts," he mused.