The Story of Us (Hayes Grier/Aaron Carpenter)

o n e

j o r d a n

"You're such an ass crack!" I scream at my best friend, Raelynn. She jumps at my sudden outburst and gives me a sideways look. I can't help but laugh.

"I'll never understand you." she comments, shaking her head.

"Well then!" I exclaim with mock hurt. "Let's make a vine, biatch!"

Raelynn nods her agreement and I find a spot with good lighting. I hold up my phone and record six seconds of me giving her a sideways 'bitch I hate you and you smell like ass' look, then caption it. "Looks to give fake ass friends pt. 2." I read aloud with satisfaction. I post the vine for our 6,826 followers to enjoy. I switch over to Twitter and announce that we just posted a new vine.

"I think we should start incorporating YouTube into our social media lives."

"I agree, but I can't handle a video every week. Maybe one every couple of weeks for me?" I respond, almost dying on ZigZag.

"OH MY GOD!" Raelynn screams. I swear I actually saw the exact moment her shit escaped her asshole.

"FUCK YOU!" I yell back. "YOU MADE ME DIE WITH YOUR BUBBLE GUM DUM DUM LOOKING ASS!" I launch a pen towards her head and cheer as it thunks against the side of her head.

"WE HIT 100,000 LOOPS ON VINE!" Raelynn shouts.

"SHUT. UP." I yell with excitement and jump on top of her so I can see the phone screen. While hardcore staring at Raelynn's phone, I notice what time it is. "Oh, shit! I gotta go! I'm gonna be late for basketball practice!" I was 15, so I had my restricted licence. I stop by my house which was just around the corner and continue to the school. I park in my usual parking spot and jog towards the gym dressed in black baggy gym shorts and a blue muscle tee. I slip in line for free throws, hoping that the coach hadn't noticed by absence.

"Blake!" Coach Enwright calls out. "You're late! You know the drill: one lap for every minute."

I give her a sheepish grin and start my twenty-six laps around the gym. I finish around 15 minutes later, so Coach starts practice.

~~~~

After practice, I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat off of my face.

"Game on Friday!" Coach calls out. "Hopefully the team captain won't be late."

I laugh and nod at Coach. "Like I'd miss it! We all know I'll be the first person here."

"Well I'll see you then. Practice is over! 5:00 on Friday, don't be late!" Coach calls out, then walks away.

The team huddles around me like we do after every practice. Between Emily's and Grayson's heads I saw a certain jock walk into the gym and look over at us.

"Okay team, good practice today. Make sure you bring your all on Friday. The playoffs start the week after and this week is homecoming. We gotta beat the living shit out of Merryweather, right?" The team all shouts 'yeah!' and other various replies. "Okay, hit the showers and rest up." I go around with fist bumps and the team jogs out of the gym. The jock notices that I'm free and ends his conversation, slowly walking over to me.

"What goes on, Blake?" he asks.

"Like you don't know, Holten." I toss back, bouncing a basketball up off the ground. Lance Holten was basically the school jock- for the guys anyways- and his dark hair and bright green eyes made him stand out. He has a tall and lean build, but he also had some tone muscles. Dating Lance Holten was like dating Adam Levine.

"Well damn, someone doesn't sound like they're in a good mood." Lance states with a cocky grin.

"Sorry, I'm stressed." I half-heartedly apologize and don't protest as Lance pulls me in for a hug. He hugs me a lot tighter and longer than expected. He rests his head on top of mine and rubs his hand in a circle on my lower back. As weird as it may sound, we had been talking since we were little and we were friends, just not very close.

"Wanna play a game to get your mind off of it?" Lance asks, pulling away from me.

"You're not really giving me a choice, so why the hell not?"

Lance steals the ball from me and dribbles down the court. I grin and follow him. He shoots and misses, the ball bouncing off the rim. I catch his rebound and send a clean swish through the net.

"Damn girl!" Lance says in amazement. "It's not gonna be that easy to beat me though."

"I sure hope not." I reply, stealing the ball from him. I dribble the ball between my legs and consider my options. I dart right and twist away from Lance as he tries to steal the ball. I push the ball up with my arms and watch as it sails through the net.

Lance chuckles to himself and holds his hands out for the ball. I pass it to him and get ready to block him. He dribbles the ball a few times before sprinting off to the other side of the gym.

"OH HELL NAH." I yell and shoot after him. I easily catch up and I jump onto his back. Lance starts laughing and sends the ball through the net.

I jump off his back and retrieve the ball. I run to my side of the gym with Lance coming after me. He wraps his arms around my waist and picks me up off the ground.

"THIS IS NOT FAIR!" I protest, struggling against him.

"LIFE'S NOT FAIR!" Lance yells back with a chuckle.

He sets me down I turn to see him smiling at me. "You're pretty good, Blake."

"You're hardly an opponent, Holten." I reply with a grin.

Lance starts walking towards the locker rooms. "You're just jealous."

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that, boo." I roll my eyes.

Lance takes my hand and pulls me along. "Hurry up. I'll wait for you." he tell me. At the last second he quickly kisses my cheek.

I feel myself blush. I smile and look down at my feet.

"Don't get soft on me, Blake." Lance says quietly, leaning his forehead against the top of my head.

I mumble something along the lines of okay before hurrying into the girl's locker room. I clean up and go back out, seeing Lance on his phone. He looks up and sees me and smiles. I walk over to him and he holds out his hand. I take it and he walks me to my car.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Blake." he says.

"Maybe." I reply with a smirk.

He leans over me and we kiss quickly, then he walks over to his car. I get in mine and buckle up, plug in my phone to the AUX cable, and drive home while blaring twenty one pilots.