Hard Feelings by K.M. Galvin

Two

The second we walk through the front door, Cassidy collapses on the couch and kicks her feet up onto my coffee table, sighing loudly.

“Another long day at the office, Cassidy?” My dad laughs as he brings us giant water bottles. “Here, drink up. You need to start hydrating before your scrimmage tomorrow.”

Grimacing at how tight my hamstrings feel, I take the water and start guzzling before settling down next to Cassidy, groaning loudly. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Glory, please tell me you’re not also doing morning workouts still.” My dad frowns before leaning down and grabbing the dirty practice gear from my gym bag.

“She totally is,” Cassidy chirps before crushing her empty water bottle.

“Glory—”

“Dad, it’s fine.” I wave him off, glaring at Cassidy. “I’m going to stop now that the season has officially started.”

He relaxes before making a show of gagging at my clothes. “Holy hell, kiddo.”

Giggling, I lean my head back on the couch as he walks into the laundry room and throws them in the washer. “I get my smelliness from you, Dad!”

“Hey, listen, I know you’re a middle-aged woman who goes to sleep at nine at night, but you have to come to the game tonight.” Cassidy stretches as she gets up off the couch.

“Cassidy, no. We have to be up early tomorrow—”

“Please, Glory. Please? Please! Please. Please, please, please!” she chants.

“Oh my God, fine! Just shut up!” I interrupt, rolling my eyes at her antics.

“You won’t regret it.” Cassidy beams and grabs her keys off the coffee table.

“I absolutely will. No good can come from me going to a football game. Especially after today,” I mumble, picking at my cuticle.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be back in two hours to get you. Dress cute!” she calls out as she runs out the door.

“Why bother?” I grimace.

“What happened today?” Dad asks as he comes back into the kitchen.

Heaving myself off the couch, I come up behind him as he pulls two fillets of cod and assorted veggies out of the fridge, and I give him a big hug.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I squeeze him before running upstairs while he sets up our dinner.

“Is it nothing? Or something I don’t have to worry about?” he yells up.

“Both!” I slam my bedroom door shut and head to my bathroom for a shower before I eat.

I can’t believe I agreed to go to a football game.

Ugh, idiot.

Football in the South is a religion, even at the high school level. It is a pageantry of the male persuasion, though I’m sure they would all scoff at that description.

But it totally is.

Our team, specifically Killian, acts like they’re going off to battle. Their faces are pictures of ferocity and focus. It’s the exact opposite of the screaming girls cheering them on and yelling from the stands.

Hair curled to perfection, faces made up so well that a Kardashian would be jealous, with just enough skin showing to be tantalizing, but not giving away all their secrets.

Forget pageantry; it’s a hormone-driven mating ritual.

Like that dancing bird, flashing its colorful feathers to attract a mate, on this documentary I saw on Netflix last night.

As the girls in front of me all scream as one of our running backs runs the ball in for a touchdown, the bird comparison seems even more accurate.

Smirking at myself, I tug my oversize cardigan around my shoulders, tucking my hands under my armpits for more warmth. It practically reaches my denim-clad knees, but the chill of oncoming fall still manages to seep through.

Wiggling my toes inside my Vans, I try to generate heat. I’m sitting at the top-right corner of the home team bleachers, which only makes it worse.

Originally, I wanted to sit on the hood of Cassidy’s Jeep on the hill overlooking the field, but compromise is the key to a successful relationship. Also, she would have stolen all the laces from my cleats.

“You know, when I said to dress cute, I didn’t mean the exact opposite. You look like you escaped the home, Granny,” Cassidy tells me as she climbs the stairs, handing me my corn dog and fries before sitting next to me. “It’s a little annoying that you wouldn’t even go to the concession stand, Glo.”

I take a huge bite. “And have them spit in my food?”

Cassidy scoffs and takes a sip of the sweet tea we’re sharing. “You really paint yourself as this pariah, but no one is going to spit in your food.”

Glaring at Killian as he takes the field, I take another bite from my corn dog. “You never know.”

Killian turns and stares right at me, as if he could hear me. He didn’t even scan the crowd, just knew exactly where to find me, as if his evil Spidey-Sense were tuned into me.

Squinting menacingly behind my wire-framed glasses, giving peak Granny vibes, I flip him the bird.

Cassidy laughs before tugging my hand down. “I get it, but maybe don’t flip our star player the bird on the home team’s side.” She tilts her head toward a group of girls who are glaring at me.

I point my corn dog stick at them. “It’s not like I want his attention! Please distract him until graduation,” I tell them.

They huff in outrage before turning around.

“God, you can be such a savage sometimes,” Cassidy murmurs lightly before scooting closer for warmth.

“Cold?” I smirk before opening my giant sweater and wrapping a side around her.

“There are sacrifices we make for fashion,” she tells me primly while snuggling even closer.

Cassidy is dressed to impress. She pulled her hair into a high pony and is wearing cutoff jeans—so short that I see why some people call them coochie-cutters—and our team hoodie but modified to slide off the shoulder. She looks effortlessly pretty.

I refused the outfit she’d brought me but did allow her to braid my hair into a crown.

Sighing heavily, I passively watch Killian beat the shit out of people on the field.

“How long do I have to stay here?” I whine as Killian sacks the other team’s QB, and the crowd goes wild.

Killian looks toward us again, and I give him a slow clap.

Yes, yes, Killian, we all see you playing whack-a-mole with the other team. Very impressive.

Meathead.

“You gotta stop,” Cassidy says, leaning into my shoulder.

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I will.” I grin a little crazily at her, the adrenaline from pissing him off racing through my veins.

“What’s gotten into you? You’ve made it your job to fly under his radar for the last three years.”

I shrug because I don’t know where this came from; I only know that seeing the big asshole almost remove someone’s head for saying something about me triggered the little demon on my shoulder.

“He’s gotten under my skin for years. He’s been a petulant child, and now, he wants to act surprised that people followed his lead? I think it’s time to show Killian just how big of an asshole he really is.”

“Okay, I’m not sure if you’re aware that you’re whispering like Liam Neeson from Taken, but you’re freaking me out, Glory.”

I stand up. “I’m leaving. Sarah Kate”—I point to our co-captain sitting with a bunch of our teammates—“has been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes. You’ll be okay without me here.”

“Dude! What the hell is going on with you?” Cassidy yells as I run down the bleacher stairs.

Killian’s on the sidelines now, watching me, along with everyone else, as I make a spectacle of myself.

“Pay attention to the game, roid rage!” I yell as I pass him and head toward Marcus Tyler, captain of the boys’ soccer team and one of the few guys at this school who treats me with respect. “Marcus! Can you give me a ride?”

He hops up from his seat with the rest of the boys’ team and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Shaking things up, Glory?”

“About time, don’t you think?” I grin at him, giving his waist a squeeze in thanks for the help.

As much as I’d love to say there was something between Marcus and me, it honestly couldn’t be more platonic. He’s been pining after Cassidy since they were in diapers, and I suspect he took up soccer just to be close to her.

I climb into his truck and slam the door shut. “Thanks again, Marcus. I hope you don’t get any shit for giving me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes as he climbs in beside me and starts the car. “Glory, I couldn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about you and me being friends. I know you’ve got one foot out of this town already; I ain’t too far behind.”

I raise a brow in question.

He flashes me a grin. “You’re not the only one heading out west.”

I whack his arm. “You’d better not be pulling my leg, Marcus Tyler!”

He laughs. “Nah, I’m serious. You’re gonna have a buddy out at UCLA.”

“Hell yeah!” I whack him again in excitement. “That’s amazing, Marcus! I’m so happy for you.” I shoot him a grin. “And me. It won’t be so scary now, moving clear across the country, if I know I’ve got at least someone in my corner.”

“Yeah, same …” He trails off, and I recognize the look on his face. It’s his thinking of Cassidy face.

“Listen, Marcus, I know—”

“Ah, let’s not, okay, Glory? I know you mean well, but I don’t want to get into it about Cassidy.” He runs his hand through his hair in agitation, and I sigh heavily.

I could kick Cassidy’s ass, truly. Marcus Tyler is subtly hot, if you like tall, dark-skinned nerd gods who could bench-press you while waxing poetic about the advances in solar energy.

He’s the perfect guy, and if Killian wasn’t a King, Marcus would be running this entire school. The Tyler family is no slouch in terms of the upper crust of Galway, given his mother is the freaking mayor and all.

“Why are you staring at me so hard? Are you pretending you can shoot lasers out of your eyes again?”

My Grinch smirk grows as a plan formulates in my head. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Ah shit …”