Chapter Eight

Huxley POV:

The note underneath my windshield wasn’t the most exciting part of my day by far. Seeing Adler taped several more pages of my story to my bedroom door surprised me the most.

She most likely felt she needed to keep up her end of the deal, so I didn’t tell Liam. The pages were written in her normal cursive writing and mimicked the website with some of her advice drama. None of it screamed extraordinary but would get me by with my English teacher.

“Supper!” Mom shouted from the start of the stairs.

I nearly tripped trying to get downstairs. I was hungrier than usual with skipping lunch and trying to bribe food from random kids. I’d skipped supper too many times, and I couldn’t make it another night, especially with hard-ass football practices.

I opened my door the same time as Adler. She'd already changed out of her school clothes, which consisted of jeans and an overly large t-shirt. Her makeover didn’t last long, but I didn’t expect it to. Adler was no fashionista.

She pushed her glasses up her nose and tugged at the end of her auburn braid. I hadn’t expected her to toss food or tackle me. Honest to God, I hated to admit it, but I liked her little body pressed against me, and even more, I liked me on top of her.

It was twisted and sick but was the reason I bolted from the kitchen. I could have smeared more food on her head from the unprepared football tackle or the M&M’s that hit me in the eye, but I couldn’t stand her on me.

It wouldn’t have taken her long to realize how being on top of me effected my body. I could look into her eyes and see how much she hated me, not knowing I felt this way on the inside.

I looked like a big dickhead to her with good reason. It sucked.

“Huxley,” she said.

“Adler.”

“I presume you received my next few pages?”

“I did. Thanks.”

“Hmm,” she said, staring toward the stairs but stopped. “Ya know, I’m really sorry I did this stupid website. Señor Seth had a spaz attack in class today. This wasn’t supposed to cause a scene or get people worked up.”

“Yeah,” I said, sliding my palm over my head. “He has been passing out fliers the last few days.”

She frowned. “It’ll be over soon enough.”

Her baby blue eyes begged me to take it down, she wouldn’t ask but I felt it, and the asshole inside of me wouldn’t. Not until I had my paper, and we finished our deal.

It almost felt like punishment for her liking Liam, which was the stupidest, dickheadish thing I’d ever done.

We both descended the stairs and took our usual spots. Mom watched us closely with a heated look. “Now,” she said. “I will not tolerate another food fight tonight. I wanted to ground you both for spilling tea on my rug, it didn’t come out, but Steven suggested it be a warning. You two never fight, so here is your warning, never again. Do you hear me?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Shana,” Adler said.

“Yeah, me too.”

She nodded once before grabbing the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. My stomach rumbled. “If y’all toss this, you’re both dead,” she whispered before standing up straight. “Got it?”

Adler took a sip of water, avoiding Mom’s eyes. Mom never got on to her, hell she never had to.

“We got it, Mom,” I said.

Mr. Steven walked in a few minutes late for dinner, smelling like sweat and hard work. He sat down and grinned. “No food fight tonight, kids?”

Adler hid her smile.

“Not the time, Steven,” Mom said.

He smirked but did what he was told. I liked that about Mr. Steven, he never got worked up or stressed out. He went along with the flow, unlike Adler who needed order to survive.

There were so many things about Adler that got underneath my skin, but suddenly they seemed more cute than annoying. How would Mr. Steven and Mom feel if I confessed my feelings? Not that I would—ever—but I’d thought about it.

“Anything interesting happen at school?” Mr. Steven asked.

Adler met my gaze. “Nope,” we said in unison.

***

The next day at school, I walked into my English class early, and noticed our assignment on the board.

I dreaded English every day. If we weren’t reading a book to talk about it, we were having a damn writing assignment. Mrs. Rita must get off on making my life miserable, because for the entire hour, it felt like hell.

The topic was to write about something for ten minutes that made us feel happy. I tore off a sheet of paper and started to write about football. Mrs. Rita’s heels clicked down the rows, stopping to look down at my paper.

“How is the story coming along, Huxley?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

She reached for my sheet and her eyes narrowed at the first sentence about football. I leaned back in my chair, happy not all of the students were inside to witness my interrogation.

“We all know you love football. Why don’t you try to write about something that’s a bit deeper, hmm?” she asked.

I took the paper back, mumbling beneath my breath. I didn’t have anything that made me feel happier than football. My family—yeah, but that was typical too.

Adler’s face crossed my thoughts, but I couldn’t let my English teacher know I had the hots for my stepsister. I tapped my pen frantically, before giving in, and writing down the things that I liked about a girl—that I wouldn’t admit, was Adler—and I felt myself smiling.

I loved her annoyance toward me. The little way she made her Dad feel good. Her obedience to him, and her kind heart. I liked that she didn’t overdo it with her look. You get what you see. I loved that she couldn’t back down from a dare and that tickling her made her laugh so hard she cried.

Someone knocked on the door mid-sentence, and Mrs. Rita opened it with a smile. “Come on in, Heather. Heather is transferring to this English class due to her extracurricular activities that were moved to sixth period. Take a seat and I’ll get you a book. We’re writing about something we love and that makes us happy.”

Heather walked down the parallel aisle, and took a seat next to me, smiling when I glanced her way. She took out her bright pink notebook and folder, offering me a stick of gum.

“No thanks.”

I pressed my fist against my temple in an attempt to block her eagerness to get my attention. All I needed was her nosey ass trying to read my paper.

“What are you writing about?” she asked, trying to sneak a glance at my paper.

I scooted it to the other side and mumbled, “Nothing.”

She frowned but perked up when Mrs. Rita sat her books down.

“Alright, pens down. Pass your papers to the front with your name and start the assigned reading for the period.”

I folded mine in half before passing it forward. We were reading A Time to Kill, which was good so far, so I picked up my book and started reading.

Time flew by.

When the bell rang, I’d been so sucked into the book that I didn’t realize Mrs. Rita stood over me.

“Huxley, follow me to my desk before you leave.” From my experience that wasn’t normally a good thing for a teacher to say.

I grabbed my things and met her up front.

She pulled off her glasses and stuck the tip of the earpiece into her mouth. I couldn’t read her reactions, which made me nervous.

“What are you writing your story about?”

Nervous, I hauled my bag up my shoulder. “About codes, and web design, I really like to do it. I’ve been working on a website, and I’m talking about it.”

“Hmm. Who is this paper about?”

Like I was going to tell. I gave her a look.

She laughed. “Okay, well, I think you should write your story about this person. I’ve taught you for two years, Huxley, and I’ve never seen you write this heartfelt. It’s all I ever want from my students. Write the paper about—her.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I couldn’t write a story about Adler because that was bonkers. I didn’t even understand my own emotions, how would I write them down?

Someone stood by my locker when I went to switch my books out for next period. When she turned her head, I realized it was Heather. I took a deep breath before approaching.

“Hey,” she said, standing up on her tiptoes, a nervous habit, I realized after dating her.

“Hey, Heather.”

“Long day, huh?”

It was only third period. “What’s up? My next class is clear across campus.”

She bit the side of her thumbnail, her pink lips thinned with nerves. “I wanted to know if you’d thought about homecoming yet?”

Her pretty hazel eyes met mind and my heart hurt for her. She couldn’t let it go, and I couldn’t force myself to like her.

I shut my locker door. “Heather, I don’t want to get your hopes up about the dance because I’m probably not going.”

There, I said it.

She dropped eye contact and shuffled her sneaker against a black mark on the tile. “Okay, I just, it was worth a shot, right?”

“Yeah. Maybe ask someone else? Tons of guys would love to go with you.”

Heather smiled and hit my shoulder with her fist. I watched her walk down the hallway and thought, at least she had the balls to go for it, unlike me.

I slid onto the bench next to Liam at lunch. Half of the football team sat with us today, it was pizza day, and everyone made it inside for that.

Jones slapped Liam’s back, drawing my attention. “Heard Jacee broke your heart, man. What happened, you couldn’t get it up?”

Liam flipped him off. “I’m glad she did it. She’s crazy.”

“I can’t argue there. I have chemistry with her, and she sits and talks to her lab partner about you cheating on her every day.”

“Talk about paranoid,” Liam said.

“I heard you’re back with Genevieve,” Jones said to Michael.

Thank God. I dodged a bullet with that one. Thanks to Adler who refused to buy into her need for a Spanish tutor.

Michael, our quarterback, leaned forward on the table to get our attention. Michael had a commanding voice that always drew attention. Think typical southern Texas quarterback, Nick Mullens, and you had Michael. “It’s nothing too serious, just hooking up occasionally,” he answered.

Typical high school boy wanting a piece of ass. This was part of the reason, besides the obvious, on why I hated the idea of Adler dating someone on the team. Or any male from the age of fourteen to eighteen.

“Good thing,” Jones said. “I saw her harassing Adler about coming to her house to study in sixth period for three weeks straight.” He laughed. “Poor Huxley can’t get a break from underclassmen.”

Michael glanced down the table toward me. I held up my palms as if I didn’t know what he was talking about and went back to eating.

Michael had an air about him that rubbed me the wrong way on occasion, as if he wanted to compete with me. I didn’t know what for since we had different positions on the team, and I couldn’t care any less about Genevieve.

“Y’all heard about that website everyone’s been talking about?” Jones asked.

I took another bite.

Liam scoffed. “Yeah, about this girl giving out guy advice and playing them?”

“Hell yeah,” one of the other teammates answered.

“It’s crap,” Jones said. “This girl is over here thinking she can play us? Find out if we’ll cheat. The balls on this one.”

“What do you think about it, Jacks?” Michael asked.

I couldn’t help but glance down at Adler and Ledela. Adler stuffed her face with pizza and laughed at Ledela’s duck face while taking another picture.

“Ah, I ain’t worried too much about it.”

They laughed.

“Yeah, because you haven’t dated in a while. What’s going on with you? Stamina problems? Decide to swing for the other team?” Jones asked.

I tossed my straw paper at his head. “Haven’t been interested in anyone, that’s all.”

“Liam, you think that’s the reason Jacee broke up with you? You’ve been texting that girl, haven’t you?” Michael asked.

Liam swallowed his pizza. “Nah, she’s still talking to me, and Jacee would have told me if she found out.”

“I don’t know, man, I heard there was a confidentiality agreement or something, which said the girl couldn’t tell the guy about it.”

Curiosity crossed Liam’s face. “Why would she still text me then?” he asked.

“Maybe she was feeling it?” Jones suggested.

Liam drummed his finger against the table. This wasn’t going anywhere good. “Have you seen a picture of her or FaceTimed?”

He ran his palm down his face. “I—no, she said we would meet soon but we haven’t.”

I glanced down at Adler.

“Why don’t you text her?” Michael asked. “She’s from Montlake, right? Maybe she’s in the cafeteria right now.”

My fist tightened into a ball on the table. This wasn’t good. I had no idea how I would stop this.

Liam dug his phone from his pocket and turned it on. Michael laughed with Jones, scanning the tables for anyone looking at their phone.

Liam pressed shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Do something, Huxley.

Ledela’s laugh drew everyone’s attention down the table. Adler laughed at her, trying to fish her phone from her backpack.

I jumped up quickly. “Cramp, cramp!” I knocked my drink onto the table, soaking Liam’s plate, and it spilling over onto Michael’s lap. “Jesus, Jacks,” Michael hissed.

“Sorry, that hip flexor is killing me,” I said, stretching my leg against the bench.

“I’ll go get some pickle juice from the lunch lady, hold on,” Jones said, disappearing into the cafeteria line.

Ledela and Adler both stared at me from the end of the table. Adler looked confused, but turned her gaze back to her plate, forgetting about her phone.

I sat back down with a sigh.

That was close, too close. I couldn’t keep them from trying that again. Jones came back with the pickle juice, and I gladly drank it.

No one brought the text up again—for now.

***

During gym, Adler kept to herself with Ledela. Coach Carter gave us a day to stretch and shoot the basketball around.

It was a nice distraction from lunch. The guys took turns doing layups and played a quick four on four game with each other.

Most of the girls stretched and played a game of horse. Ledela hosted a TikTok party in the corner, practicing dances and lame challenges. If that girl didn’t become Insta-famous one day, I thought she might die of heartbreak.

Adler stood in the back of the group, sneaking looks at her phone and pretending to care about Ledela’s lame escapades. She was a great friend. I found myself wanting to write it down.

Some foreign feeling washed over me. I walked toward my backpack and pulled out my notebook for English. Sure, I didn’t plan on writing anything for Mrs. Rita, but I felt I wanted to write it down. What if I did well in the contest? It wouldn’t hurt to add it to what I’d written that morning in class, would it? I’d turned it in, but I couldn’t forget the things I loved about her easily.

I scribbled down, I loved that she is a good friend.

Stupid, I knew. However, I felt better releasing those built-up feelings for her.

Gym ended, and I walked toward the locker room, ready to let out frustration from the day. Our next game on Friday was a town over. It was our last practice for the week before the game, and our teammates always liked to get us hyped with music and encouraging words.

Michael hopped onto the center bench, singing along to a rap song he always used to get us ready before practice. My eyes dragged over the slew of guys that thought they could dance toward my locker where a note was stuffed into the vent.

Another one?

I opened the letter while Michael started his weekly speech.

Huxley, Now that I think back about my letter, I don’t know how you would have written me back, if you were interested? Silly me got into my feelings and didn’t think about a reply. Maybe, if you were interested, you could leave me a note underneath the junior picnic table at lunch. I watched you play last Friday, and I have to say it was just as good as usual. Your determination on the field rives jealously. I wish I had that kind of talent. If the notes make you feel weird, tell me, I’d gladly give you a text, or leave you alone? I’ll stop rambling now, if you do write me back, thanks. I’m an old soul that thinks letters should never go extinct. But who asked me, right? Hope to speak to you soon.

Sincerely,

Your admirer.

“Jacks!”

I crumbled the note into my jeans pocket and turned to face Michael. He looked concerned. “Your head in the game today?”

“Yeah, just looking over a homework assignment.”

A few of the boys stared at me as if they didn’t believe it.

Michael started back in on his speech. It was useless to try to focus on his familiar words, the same thing every week, because my head spun in different circles.

My adrenaline for Adler stirred something inside of me.

Now I had someone writing me notes as if we were in third grade, but I felt the need to respond.

I didn’t know what to say. Sorry, I’m in love with my stepsister and I’m an emotional wreck. A relationship isn’t on my horizon.

Emotions sucked more than the thought of Adler finding out about them.