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OLIVER

T he win against our arch rivals, the Lincoln Lions should have had me fizzing with euphoria, but the minute Savannah rushed me, throwing her arms around me and hoisting her legs around me, I froze. Stiffened like a steel rod, rigid and unmoving.

But Savannah didn’t notice. Her lips peppered my cheek, my chin, my jaw—she thought I was teasing, but in reality I was shifting my head around so she wouldn’t kiss my lips.

You see, I’d seen her on the sideline, blonde ponytail swinging as she kicked and danced and cheered our team to victory—but during the stoppages, her gaze had wandered across to Lincoln’s wide receiver, Ben Monty. Let’s just say, I know what I saw.

“Baby, that was an amazing pass,” Savannah cooed into my ear. Usually it would send a delicious shiver up my spine, but I was a stone, cold and unfeeling.

I untangled her arms from around my neck, forcing her to stand on her own two feet.

“What was that with Monty?” I seethed between gritted teeth, still trying to keep a half smile on my face. I was always aware of phone cameras being aimed at me after a game and it would do my reputation no good to be caught on video having an argument.

“What?” The complete tone of surprise was so fake that I couldn’t stop my eye roll and muttered, “Later,” as I swiftly moved on by.

“Sure, babe,” Savannah said, smiling like she hadn’t noticed my lack of affection or my gray mood.

And that’s what bugged me. It was nothing new for Savannah not to pay attention to how I was feeling. Savannah was Savannah and over the two years that we’d dated, I’d learned a few things. She was bold and beautiful, flirty and fun, daring and dramatic, which were all qualities I loved about her.

Or thought I did. But now, not so much. Flirting with the opposition and dramatically flinging herself into my arms annoyed me—a lot. I was fuming and frustrated, but as quarterback, I was forced to smother my true feelings. Our team had beaten the Lions and I needed to project a victorious image, cheering and celebrating. I rejoined my teammates and headed to the locker room, hoping the quick cold shower would cool off my hot head, but I was still furious afterward.

It wasn’t the first time Savannah had flirted with other guys. One of the most popular girls in school and undeniably the prettiest, she thrived on attention. I’d tried to overlook the time she was chatting with the QB from Hamilton Hawks. She said she was trying to get intel on their offensive plays. When he goaded me on the field by telling me my girlfriend was a good kisser, I let it get to me. It was the first time that I got subbed out of a game.

We broke up over it, also not the first time. One time we’d split up because I’d had to do a project assignment with Lauren Stromsky. Savannah accused me of cheating on her which had been ridiculous. Lauren and I had organized to meet at the local library to do research and rumor got around that we were on a date. Yeah, as if I would take a date to the library!

To get back at me, she’d posted a pic of her and Chase Masters, son of the town’s mayor, together at a party. She admitted to kissing him and I was ready to have it out with Masters, but found out she’d only done it to make me jealous. By the end of the week we were back together, #Olivannah again, regaining our mantle as Snow Ridge High’s number one couple.

And that’s how our relationship was, never smooth, more like a roller coaster ride with ups and downs, always exuding drama, yet we always gravitated back to one another, seemingly like moths to a flame, unable to be apart for long.

But when Ben Monty sidled up beside me as I was pulling on my Owls jacket, my frustrations finally came to a head.

“So, your girlfriend gave me her number,” he said, arms folded across his huge chest for intimidation purposes, “so if you can’t get hold of her, she’ll be out with me.” His teammates chuckled behind him as he held out his arm and read out numbers written on his inner forearm.

I was so livid that I neglected to listen and had no idea if he was just reciting random numbers. I’d reached boiling point and with my outstretched hand I pulled on his shirt collar.

I don’t even know what I said or what he said, but the next moment I was being grabbed from behind and Coach’s voice boomed loudly.

“Blackwell. Monty.”

Another male voice called our names but in reverse order. My jacket bunched around my shoulders as I was jerked violently back by a large hand.

The locker room became as silent as a graveyard, my neck jarred by the sudden jolt.

“Blackwell. Over there!” Coach released my jacket and directed me to the door. Monty smirked and winked as I was ordered out.

“I expect better from you,” Coach muttered in a low voice full of disgust as he stopped me in the hallway. “You’re representing the Owls and—”

“But Sir, he said that...”

“I don’t care what he said,” Coach hissed, his minty breath spraying out at me. “I’ll deal with this back at school. Now go out there and act like you’re the quarterback of the winning team.”

I hung my head, joining my teammates out by the bus where the cheer squad were lined up, ushering us in with their waving pom poms. Adam, my offensive tackle, pulled me into the line and I morphed into auto mode, high fiving the squad before boarding the bus.

“Hey Jessie, hey Harlow, hey Rose, hey Mia...” It was a blur of faces and names, and in a fluster, I got names wrong—I called Jessa Jessie and Mia should have been Maya but I just wanted to get onto the bus as quickly as possible.

Coach Gregor was right there by the door with Assistant Coach Clarkson and, nightmare of nightmares, Savannah.

“Let’s go Owls,” she shouted, blasting my eardrums as she hugged me. I couldn’t fight it, not with Coach’s beady eyes glaring at me. I kissed Savannah like everyone would expect and then hightailed it onto the bus.

I didn’t want to talk on the way back, using the excuse that my ribs were sore. Savannah sat next to me but I couldn’t even look at her, my mind whirling to the previous times we’d split up, dang sure it was about to happen again.

“We good, babe?” Savannah smiled sweetly as she nudged me, obviously forgetting that I’d bruised my ribs, her touch sending pain radiating through my core.

I winced but restrained a yelp. I stared back at her, eyes round and bright, teeth gleaming, cheeks rosy, lips glossy. Normally I would squeeze those cheeks, gaze into those baby blue eyes and kiss her strawberry flavored lips, but a chill spread through me, a numbness seeped into my bones and there was the mind-blowing realization that I felt nothing. The most beautiful girl in school, but not a glimmer of attraction or an ounce of affection.

As Snow Ridge’s High most prominent couple—the classic quarterback and cheerleader combo—everyone said the world was only right when #Olivannah was right, but maybe that was all hyped up nonsense. Hype I’d fallen for. Because, too often there had been more downs than ups...and the drama and angst which I’d come to accept as normal was draining, and in a lightbulb kind of moment, I knew I was over it. Savannah and I were not a perfect couple, simple as that.

We might have looked good together, but we weren’t good together.

“Did you give your number to Monty?” I asked in a low hum, adjusting my body to create distance between us.

Savannah giggled. “It was just a joke.”

“Just a joke?” I tried to restrain my tone but the fact that Monty hadn’t been lying sent a fire through my veins.

“Yeah, c’mon Ollie. I was just playing around, you know, distracting him.” She danced her eyebrows up and down. “Hey, it worked, huh. We got the win, didn’t we?”

I stared out the window, refusing to look at her. We didn’t win because Savannah gave Monty her number, we won because I threw the perfect spiral to our wide receiver who scored a touchdown. You know, sometimes in the past, I hadn’t minded when Savannah got attention from other guys in rival teams. I’d always been proud that she was my girl, proud to have her on my arm, to be seen kissing her.

Almost like she was a prized possession.

And maybe that’s all we were to each other.

And yeah, that was a shocking revelation. Homecoming King and Queen, a show couple, nothing but a high school cliché.

I rested my head against the window, nursing my bruised ribs and looking out at the passing highway that would take us back to Snow Ridge.

“Ollie?” Savannah’s voice reverberated around me, but I could only hear Ben Monty’s taunt in my head. It might have been a bit of fun for Savannah but I hadn’t found it funny in the slightest.

I quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, dreading the amount of energy that a breakup would bring. There would be fights and arguments and texts in the middle of the night, inevitably followed by apologies and regrets before culminating in a sweet reconciliation.

But there wouldn’t be one this time.

I jerked up, ignoring the ache in my ribs. Savannah was taking selfies on her phone. She smiled and tilted the phone to include me. I didn’t bother to smile. But I wouldn’t do it here and cause commotion. I’d wait till we were home, when I dropped her back to her house.

For the rest of the ride, my stomach knotted. It would’ve been easier to snap and call it quits right now, but I was already in trouble with Coach and couldn’t risk more controversy.

I was actually walking on thin ice as it was. I was struggling in a couple of my classes and if my grades dropped, I’d be dropped. And Connor Richmond, QB2, was no doubt waiting in the wings ready to pounce on the opportunity to start.

“Smile, Ollie!” Savannah commanded, but all I did was move out of frame and rest back against the window. Unperturbed, Savannah kept taking photos of herself, her face contorting in various poses. Another hour or so and I’d be done.

No more drama, no more turmoil, no more girlfriend.