Only If She Stayed

20. Wanting to be Wanted

IF THERE WAS a trophy for being the best at averting, I would win because of the amount of times I dodged a private talk with Edgar.

He walked up to our lunch table on the first three days of school during the week, but I didn't appear fazed at his presence. I pretended to be intrigued at what Reagan and Andrea or Ashton were telling me. In reality, my whole body was in high alert when he took a seat and watched me for the rest of lunch, failing to strike up a some dialogue with me.

For the rest of the week, Edgar pulled back from me after seeing I wouldn't budge. In class, he did try to approach me, but with no luck. I would say things like: "I can't talk. I'm trying to listen to the teacher. Maybe we can talk after class." And when the bell rang, I would race for the door without looking back.

Edgar said on Sunday that he would never talk to me again if I left that party. I kept my part of the deal, but he didn't.

The attention was nice, undoubtedly nice. To be wanted is what we all long and yearn for. But I knew what a conversation with him would manifest into. He would beg for a second chance.

I was not here to give second chances. I had lost count of how many times I had done just that. Giving in and caving to his pleas was part of our vicious cycle of breaking things off and getting back together. I was soft for him, and that was a faulty flaw that I was fighting against. Frankly, seeing him –for a second—act as if he was willing to change made my fight against logic harder than before.

I battled against that narrative though.

Edgar wouldn't change for anyone.

It was Friday now. My dad would be coming home tonight or in the early morning portion of Saturday. I had all of the girls in the dance team in the cafeteria. Andrea and Reagan taught the newcomers what the moves were. When they were done, the newbies would dance with the other girls. The more established dancers stayed in the back, letting the new ones take the first and second row.

We had about eight girls attending the audition. It wasn't the best turn-up, but this was second semester. Most people are tempted to try out if it's at the beginning of the year.

A sophomore named Corinna was the only impressive one. There was another girl, but I didn't know her name. She had wavy brown hair and was able to keep up with Reagan and Andrea without an issue.

Reagan skipped to where I was on the bleachers, taking notes of which girls were standing out. I was even evaluating the girls already on the team to see where we needed work.

"Where are you going?" I asked as she stuck a hand into her backpack. "I need you out there with Andrea."

"I have to check my phone. I was supposed to get a call and I think I missed it." Reagan puffed loudly.

"You know we don't socialize with the outside world when we're in practice." I reminded her about our golden rule. It had been passed down to me by the senior that used to be the dance team captain before me. "I need you to be focused on teaching the eight girls - and not hung up on boys."

She cupped her hands together and pouted. "Please. It's not going to take long."

I exhaled sharply. "Does it have to do with who picks you up from practice?"

"Yes, but only if it means you'll give me mine phone." Her pout enlarged. "I'll be back in a nanosecond."

I smirked. "Alright, but be quick and go behind the bleachers. I don't everyone else coming to me for their phones. I'll lose the entire team."

Reagan gave me a thumbs up and shuffled out off the field. She was going to be contacting Cam, no doubt. I wasn't nosy enough to ask her if they were an item yet, but it was safe to say that they were more than friends. I was crossing my fingers, hoping that he was nothing like Edgar or Tyler.

Ugh. Anything but Tyler.

Coach Wilson said we could use the inner portion of the field to hold practices. I didn't want to go back to sharing the gymnasium with the basketball team. The track team ran around the outer portion of the field so it wasn't like anyone would be using it.

"For being Team Captain, you sure don't do much." Ashton uttered, slumping into the empty spot next to me.

"That's an understatement."

"You're not out there helping."

"No, I'm not out there with them, but I am observing everything and making notes and seeing which one stands out. This is technically like an exam to them." I proclaimed, waving around my clip board. "What are you doing here anyway? It's after hours."

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his lap. "I stayed after school for study hall. I just got out. I had to re-do a test for my maths class."

"Math." I corrected. "There's no s."

"Yes, there is. What is math short for? Mathematics. Also, there's multiple types of math." He stated. "I swear, Americans love making things difficult." He said, chuckling to himself and blinking away the sun.

"Hey, I do agree we should use the metric system. But I'm not the person behind that. I can't change it," I shrugged.

Lately, I hung out with Ashton more often. I still talked to Michael. He was nice enough to give me rides sometimes when my mom couldn't. But he was head over heels with this Lily girl. They both ate lunch together in the hallway.

Whenever I tried to talk to him after class, Lily was always there, waiting at the door for him.

I told myself the other day that I would pretend to be happy for him until I actually did feel earnestly happy for him. I still had this weird feeling around her. I didn't trust her or like her, but for Michael's sake, I made it seem like I didn't mind her existence.

"Hey, are you doing anything after this?" Ashton questioned.

"The team and I are going to walk to 85°C Bakery Cafe afterwards. You can tag along if you want."

"Oh, cool. Sure, I'd love to go." He leered at my notes and tapped at the third line. "Barbra needs to work on her high kicks. Sloppy and pathetic.' Wow, isn't that a bit tough?"

I hit the clipboard to my chest, embracing it. "Criticism isn't bad. I need to be tough with them or we won't win any competitions."

"You guys compete?"

"Yeah, of course we do. What, you think we just do this for pep rallies?" I blew out a bit of air, astounded at his comment. "That's only another form of rehearse for us."

Reagan returned in that moment, stuffing her phone into her bag. "That was longer than expected."

Biting on her nail, she took a pause. "I uhhh, talked to Cam."

"I figured that much on my own." I chimed. "Get back on to the field."

"I will..." she hesitated some more. "I just wanted to tell you that, umm...Cam suggested coming to the field to see the rest of the try-outs."

"He can stay on the bleachers. I don't mind."

Reagan rocked her hip to the left, setting a hand on it, and stood there with a scrunched-up nose. "He's not arriving alone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I used my hand to shield out the sun while gazing at her. "Does he have a friend coming with him?"

"Uh, a little more than a friend."

I squinted off to the right, seeing a stream of people entering the field. In the midst of new bodies, I spotted Edgar.

Cam brought the entire basketball team with him.

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