Our Broken Pieces

Chapter 2

Gage~

Normally, I didn't care who Chance fucked, but him asking Margot Cross to prom was a blindside that I hadn't seen coming. Sure, over the years he'd mentioned how hot she was and that he wouldn't mind getting his dick wet with her, but I never thought that he'd actually ask her to prom.

See, Chance didn't do relationships. He dated girls, but it'd always been casual, and everyone knew the score. He'd also never asked a girl to prom, the winter formal, or even a goddamn movie. Chance hung out with girls, and if he was lucky-which the bastard was-then he got laid more often than not. So, when he'd told me that he had asked Margot Cross to prom, I'd been surprised.

Then pissed.

While Chance was my best friend, I had a whole world of secrets that he knew nothing about, and him dating Margot Cross threatened those secrets, and all because my family belonged to the 'right' side of Cranston, California. My father was a medical doctor, and my mother was a family psychiatrist. We lived in a two-story modern home, complete with all that new-age automation crap, and it was important that I lived up to the image that was expected of me, and because of that expectation, I guarded my secrets fiercely.

We were in the locker room, ready to hit the football field, when Chance had made his little announcement about asking Margot Cross to prom. Our lockers were next to one another, so it was easy to have semi-private conversations in here without having to shout across the room or noise.

I pulled my shirt up over my head, then looked over at him. "Why?"

Chance threw me a smirk as he started unbuttoning his pants. "Don't be like that, G," he chuckled. "Margot Cross is hot as fuck, and you know it."

There was no denying that Margot Cross was a hot piece of ass, and by all accounts, she was a good person, too. She was popular and reputedly kind to everyone, and though I didn't hang out with her or talk to her, there were also plenty of rumors going around that she'd given it up to her ex-boyfriend, Timothy Carr, last year. However, she supposedly dumped him after she'd found out that she hadn't been the only one that he'd been getting pussy from. In turn, Timothy had done what all insecure assholes did; he'd started spreading rumors about her. Unfortunately for him, he had underestimated just how much people liked Margot, so his bullshit never stuck, and now it was like he never existed.

"I'm not saying she isn't," I replied as I started removing my jeans. "I'm just surprised. You've never mentioned liking her before. And since when do you ask girls to prom? Not to mention that it's still months away."

He pulled on his undershirt, and then looked over at me. "I'm not looking to marry her, G. It's just fucking prom."

My brows shot upward. The defensiveness was new because Chance was usually super laid back. "Hey, man, no need to get pissy about it. I was just wondering what changed."

If this shit was just casual, and Chance just wanted to fuck her, then I could work with that. However, if he really liked her, that might change things, and if so, I needed to know.

The drop in my gut was instant when he said, "I like her, okay."

Fuck.

"I never made a play for her before because she was dating that asshole for all that time, and then when she dumped him...I don't know. I guess I just wanted to give her time to move on from him. Girls are funny about their first."

I made sure to keep my face impassive at his comment about girls being funny about their first. Still, he had a point. Whether good or bad, girls would always remember the guy that they'd given their virginity to, and it didn't necessarily have anything to do with the guy himself. They would remember their first time because it was their first goddamn time. Just like most guys remembered the first time that they'd ever sunk their dick inside a warm, wet, welcoming pussy, most girls were going to remember the first time that they'd been torn apart. Eve really fucked the game up for women everywhere when she'd eaten that goddamn apple.

We finished gearing up in silence, but when we were about to head out onto the field, I asked, "But why start something now, Chance? We graduate in six months. What happens if you end up really liking this girl?"

Chance shrugged his shoulder. "I haven't gotten that far," he admitted. "If it works out, maybe we make it clear that this thing has an expiration date. I dunno."

An expiration date.

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. Arrangements and agreements sounded all good and well while you were making them, but emotions didn't have expiration dates. Love, hate, heartbreak...you didn't stop feeling those emotions just because you abided by the agreed upon deadline.

"Well, good luck with that," I replied, trying my best to sound supportive. "She's a cool girl." The words sounded lame even to my ears, but this shit was fucking with me.

Chance cocked his head as he gave me a queer look. "Uh, thanks," he muttered.

Moving on, we headed out towards the football field with the rest of the team without saying anything more about Margot Cross, but she was resting heavily on my mind. Football was coming to an end with only a couple of more games left in the season, so I wasn't overly concerned with practice. I loved football, and I knew that a few scouts had been checking me out lately, but I loved practicality more. No matter how good I was at throwing the football, I planned on going to college for a sensible and tangible degree.

I also wasn't the type of person that could be blinded by money, women, or fame; that just wasn't my character. I knew if you chose a career in professional sports that it could all come crashing down with just one injury or awful scandal. If I did decide to play football professionally, I still wanted something that I could fall back on, so I made football second to reality. Or it could be that football was third on my list of priorities.

We got out onto the football field, and immediately to the left of the entrance, we could see the cheerleaders practicing on the sidelines. I glanced over at Chance, and, yep, his eyes automatically searched Margot out, and I knew that I was fucked when I noticed Margot also seeking Chance out, a wide smile plastered on her face.

These two assholes were going to start dating.

Standing in the middle of the football field, I wasn't listening to a word Coach McGillis was saying. I was too busy noticing how Chance was standing next to me with hearts in his fucking eyes. Now, don't get me wrong; as much as I hated the idea of Chance dating Margot, I would never do anything to sabotage whatever he was going to try to build with her, whether marriage and kids or a one-night stand.

I just didn't like it.

I didn't like having to share my space with people, and while I had a shitload of acquaintances, Chance was my only real friend. I could hang out in crowds, and I could party with the best of them, but my conversations were superficial at best, and no one knew the real me. Hell, Chance didn't even know the real me.

Wait.

That was a lie.

There was one person that knew the real me.

There was one person that saw right through the perfect high school football god and saw what really made me tick. She knew the truth about what really made my heart pound inside my chest; what really made me feel alive. She couldn't be snowed, and she saw what everyone else around us was too blind to see.

Mystic Anderson.

Mystic Anderson who also happened to be Margot Cross' best friend.

She was the one person that I did my best to avoid. She was the one person that I went out of my way to not interact with in public. I avoided the shit out of that girl when I could, but if Chance was going to start dating Margot, then that would all come to an end. I was going to start seeing her more often, and that wasn't good.

Nothing about any of this was good.