Page 15

DAMON

I ’m not sure why the staff at Helping Hands thought our presence would be beneficial in recruiting boys to come to the dance.

While there seems to be an equal mix of girls versus boys, so far, I’ve spent the first forty-five minutes of the dance signing autographs and fielding questions from the boys in attendance while also narrowly avoiding the advances of some rather aggressive fifteen-year-old girls.

Though Jace was right about one thing. Between helping Brynn set up and decorating the old town hall with about a hundred paper snowflakes, twinkling lights, balloon arches, and the glittering faux-diamond garland hanging from the ceiling, I’ve barely had the chance to even think about Avery all evening.

Shit. That doesn’t count. I’m not meant to be thinking about her at all.

I glance over at a scowling Brandon who’s manning the refreshment table and staring at his phone. No doubt he’s still sulking over the fact that his girl bestie, Tatum, is headed to Bradd’s tonight with a group of friends, including several AAU basketball players.

I chuckle to myself as I imagine him texting her as we speak, freaking out over the thought of her grinding up against one of them on the dance floor.

Poor bastard.

I shake my head, turning back to look at the makeshift dance floor where Chris is fawning all over Charlotte, and then to my right where Brynn is forcing Jace to learn some kind of new line dance.

Suckers, all of them. Thank God that’s not me.

Hell, maybe Avery dumping my ass was a blessing in disguise.

I can do what I want, when I want, and how I want it.

I’m my own man, completely independent. If I want to leave the toilet seat up in my apartment or drink a beer on the couch while watching gory action movies with gratuitous violence, or scratch my junk, I can.

Zero explanation needed. No lectures. No asking for permission.

No being told I’m gross or need to wash my hands.

I grin to myself with a little shake of the head and lift the cup of cola in my hands to my lips, taking a long pull as my gaze wanders over the room.

The dance floor is mostly filled with girls, with the exception of a few poor schmucks who’ve allowed themselves to be coerced into doing the Cupid Shuffle, whatever the hell that is.

In the corner, several couples are starting to look a little too cozy for a high school dance, but from the look of Charlotte’s hawkish stare, it won’t be for long.

“Can I ask you something?” I jerk and glance to my right, startled at the sound of the voice beside me. Clearly, during my musing, a kid sidled up next to me.

He’s tall and wiry, with dark hair, a dark complexion, and an athletic build. For all intents and purposes, he’s a good-looking kid.

“Me?” I ask, pointing to my chest like I must be mistaken.

He nods, his gaze never leaving the point of his focus across the room.

I follow his line of sight to find a gaggle of girls, laughing and dancing in the corner of the room. “Uh, I don’t think so, kid,” I say, not wanting to get involved.

“Come on, man. You’re the star quarterback of a Big Ten college team, on the cusp of winning the CFP championship. You’ve gotta get a ton of girls, right?”

“You’d be surprised,” I mutter, because, yeah, maybe there is no shortage of girls constantly trying to hook up with the quarterback, but they’re just jersey chasers. And it’s not like I’m taking any of them up on it.

“God, even Meredith hasn’t shut up about how hot you are.” The boy grimaces, and I feel a stab of sympathy for the poor guy.

“Which one is it?” I ask him

“The strawberry blonde, in the middle.”

I nod, saying nothing as I take her measure. She’s cute. Fairly tall with a nice figure and a spray of freckles across her nose that remind me of someone else?someone I’m not supposed to be thinking about.

“You talk to her?”

“We met here two years ago in the after-school program and have been friends ever since,” he says with a frustrated growl. “But I just want more, ya know?”

Yeah, I know. I remember what it was like to skirt the lines of friendship when I was his age. Avery and I started out as friends, but it quickly evolved into more, and if I could take it back, I would. She’s one life lesson I wished I never had to learn.

“What’s your name?” I ask, turning my focus on him.

“Paul.”

“Listen, Paul, you want my advice?” He nods eagerly, and I step forward, clapping a hand over his shoulder. “Leave it alone,” I tell him. “Walk away. Stay friends if you want, but nothing more. It’s easier that way. Safer. Trust me.”

“But . . .” The kid’s cheeks turn red as he struggles to find his words. “What if it’s too late? What if I’ve already fallen for her?” He glances back over at her, and their eyes meet from across the room.

Meredith’s expression brightens like the rising sun, and my stomach sinks.

Panic claws at my throat. She’ll eat this kid alive, make him depend on her, rely on her for his next breath, and then years from now, she’ll end it without so much as an explanation.

He’ll never be the same. His heart will be crushed into a million pieces and scattered across the ends of the earth.

“How old are you?” I ask, my resolve hardening. It might be too late for me, but I can save this kid.

“I’ll be fifteen this summer.”

This kid has so much potential, his whole life ahead of him. “And do you have any goals for yourself? Dreams?”

Paul tears his gaze away from the girl and meets my eyes. “Yeah, sure.” He shrugs. “I play football. I’m a wide receiver, made varsity this year as a freshman.”

My brows rise, and I allow the punch of admiration I feel to shine in my eyes. “That’s amazing, man. You must be pretty damn good to make varsity as a freshman.”

“I’m decent,” he says with a smile.

Humble, too. I like it.

Suddenly, my chest puffs out, and I push my shoulders back, feeling personally responsible for this kid. And as his mentor, I refuse to let him walk into the fire.

“You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age,” I say.

His brown eyes widen. “I do?”

I nod. “Definitely. And you know what? I worked damn hard in high school to get to where I am now, but do you know the one thing I wish I would’ve done differently?”

“What?” he says, hanging onto my every word.

“Stayed away from girls and out of relationships.”

“But you didn’t, and it worked out.” He waves a hand toward me. “I mean, look at you now.”

“Well, yeah. But think of how much better I’d be if I had stayed focused.

Girls and relationships, they’re time-sucks.

All they do is steal your energy. Think of how amazing you could be if you took all the time and energy you spend on pining after some chick who’s probably going to break your heart anyway, and spent it on honing your craft, excelling at your game.

” I poke him in the chest. “Date nights are better spent in the weight room or on the field. All that time you waste on the phone with a chick could be more time going over game tape and reviewing plays. Think of how unstoppable you’d be. ”

Paul shifts his weight, glancing between me and Meredith, as if torn between listening to his idol or nurturing his crush.

“Do you know how many high school relationships last?” I ask, desperate to drive my point home. He shakes his head, his dark gaze wary as I continue. “Two percent.” I hold up two fingers. “Don’t ask me how I know; I just do. Now, ask me what percentage of college athletes play football in college.”

“How many?” he asks, his tone eager for an answer.

“Upward of eight percent. And that’s not taking into account the kids with natural talent, who also have a personal mentor to coach them through their high school career.

” I grin as I punch him playfully in the shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m talking about you, brother. If you want it, I’m here for you, man.

Now . . .” I say, purposefully shifting my gaze across the room to where Meredith is now blatantly staring at my new buddy, Paul.

“Knowing those odds, would you rather spend your time focusing on a chick who’s going to give you a modicum of short-lived happy moments, hoping to be that two percent?

Or would you rather take the better odds and harness all your focus on football in the hopes of making a career out of it? ”

Meredith flutters a little wave at him from across the room, and Paul swallows.

For a moment, I think he might crack and choose her, consequences be damned.

But then he turns to me, his eyes hardened with determination, and I know I’ve got him.

“You’ll really help me out?” he asks. “Be my mentor and shit?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say as I offer him knuckles. “Welcome to the club, bro.”

By the time he walks back to a group of his guy friends a few minutes later, it’s with my contact information securely in his phone and a postseason game plan to help him prepare for a kick-ass sophomore year.

Smiling, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself when Chris and Jace sidle up next to me a few minutes later. “Please tell me you didn’t just convince that kid that girls are a waste of time and to focus on himself instead,” Chris says.

“Who told you that?” I ask through narrowed eyes.

Did that little fucker betray me?

At Chris’s answering glare, I add, “So what if I did? I’m doing him a favor.”

“There’s a riot of boys forming who are going around and spreading the word about the brotherhood or some shit, and spouting off some statistic about only two percent of high school relationships lasting and why they should focus on other things with better odds.”

Just then, Paul glances my way and salutes.

Dammit .

“I fucking knew it,” Jace hisses. “Told you it was him,” he says to Chris.

“What’s the big deal?” I ask, feeling slightly defensive.