First and Forever (Heartache Duet #2) - Jay McLean Page 0,32

We text every now and then, but it’s not the same.

“Let’s go, gentlemen,” Coach yells.

We file out of the locker room and onto the court, one by one, surrounded by the loud support of our peers. “Just get it done,” Rhys says, smacking the back of my head. We start as we always do, with warm-ups, and it’s not until I’m halfway through them that I see her. Sitting next to Karen in the front row, Ava’s biting back a smile as she watches me. There’s a balloon in her hand, bright orange, and she lifts her hand in a wave. I make my way over to her, ignoring everything else. Squatting down to her level, I say, because it’s the only thing my brain can come up with, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replies through a breathy giggle.

“What are you doing here?”

“Baking.” Smart ass.

“I mean, how did you manage to—”

“Ledger!” Coach calls.

“One second!” I shout back.

Coach yells, “Now, boy!”

Ava laughs, her head dipping. “Ooh, you’re in trouble.” Then she pushes on my shoulders hard enough that I have to catch myself on an outstretched arm. “Go! Do your thing, number three!”

I flex, I admit it. But there’s something about Ava’s presence that makes me want to push myself harder than I usually do. Besides, it’s not often she gets to see me in action in real life, and so of course, I give her a show.

I have to.

As soon as the practice is over, I race over to Ava, making sure I catch her before she leaves.

“Hi,” I say again.

Shaking her head, she smiles up at me. “Watching you on the court is like watching paint dry. I’ve never been so bored in my life.”

“Sorry,” I laugh out. “I’ll try harder next time.”

She clucks her tongue. “I don’t think there’s going to be a next time, number three. You were that bad.”

Karen stands to the side of us, watching our back and forth with a dip in her brow. “So, this is what being in love looks like?”

“Karen!” Ava whisper-yells, her eyes wide and focused on her old best friend.

Busted.

“What?” Karen shrugs. “As if you both don’t know.”

Ava takes a breath, eyes on me again. “Karen’s giving me a ride home. It’s just as quick as if I were to take the bus.”

“Or me!” I rush out—too loud, too enthusiastic—and point a thumb to myself. “I could give you a ride home.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s just, by the time you shower and—”

“No shower,” I cut in. “Let me just grab my things.”

“Are you sure?”

Karen speaks up. “He’s sure, Ava.” Then to me: “We’ll meet you outside.”

I nod at the same time Ava orders, “Give me your jersey.”

I raise my eyebrows at her.

She shrugs. “For my collection.”

Without a thought, I reach behind me, pull my jersey off of my back and hand it to her.

Karen lets out a low whistle while Ava stares at my bare chest. Then she brings the jersey to her nose, inhales deeply. “Mmm. Pre-shower jock might be my favorite.”

“You’re so weird,” Karen laughs out, throwing her arm around Ava’s neck. “Go get your shit, Ledger,” she says, spinning Ava around. They make it to the exit before I realize I’m staring at Ava… and Ava—she’s staring back, her neck craned to look at me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I rush to grab my things and put on a sweatshirt. Then I go to the parking lot, where Ava and Karen are standing by my truck. Ava’s wearing my jersey, school skirt and knee-highs, and I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a hard-on so fast. She’s holding Karen’s pom-poms to her chest, and when she sees me, she grins full force. “Ready? Okay!” she yells, the standard cheerleader call. She moves the pom-poms around, her arms and legs kicking out, and I picture every guy in the parking lot watching her and let my growl die in my throat. I close in, seeing her smile fade the closer I get. Her head tilts back to look up at me when I stop in front of her. I take the pom-poms from her, hand them back to Karen. “You don’t need these.”

Ava giggles. “You don’t like cheerleaders?”

Shaking my head, I lead her with a hand on her hip to the passenger’s side of my truck and open the door. “I like you as my own personal one, sure,” I murmur, helping her step up and settle into her seat.

She eyes me a moment. “That’s a little possessive,