The Stand-In Boyfriend (Grove Valley High #1)(57)

His arms wrap around me, securing me against his chest, locking me in close to him, and he doesn’t say anything, not for quite a while. He just sits there and lets me know he’s here for me. He breathes in and out, big heavy exaggerated breaths that are easy to follow, and soon my breathing is under control. Soon my breaths are in sync with his and I feel like I can lift my head from his shoulder. After another few minutes pass, his eyes meet mine.

“I’m telling you, Chapman, you’ve got this.” I like that he doesn’t ask me what’s going on or even if I’m okay. He knows I’m not and he knows why even without asking.

“But what if I don’t?”

“There’s not a chance you’re not going to dominate out there.”

“But the scouts, Chase. What if I…I mean, I have to—”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” he cuts me off again.

“You don’t get it.”

“I do.”

“The other team—one of them was saying I’m shit and I shouldn’t be on the team and I won’t be able to get past them. She posted it online.” I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about her words.

Chase chuckles. “You know that’s just some psychological crap they’re trying to use to psych you out. They know you’re the one they need to stop and they’re so scared they’ve had to resort to badmouthing you. You should take it as a compliment.”

“But what if they’re right?”

“They’re not right, Livy. Even they know that.”

“But—”

“Do you want to know how I know you’re going to go out there and prove anyone who might doubt you wrong?”

My eyes find his.

“Back when we were freshmen, we had gym class together—remember?”

“What?” What is he talking about? I need to focus on the here and now, not something that happened years ago.

“The first class of the year, we were all in the gym, right? And we had that old gym teacher? The one who thought girls shouldn’t be with us boys and it was a waste of our time to have to compete with you?”

I nod my head slowly. I hated that guy. He looked older than my grandpa and after twenty minutes, it was obvious he still had the views about women that were around when he was born. He actually told us we should be in home economics rather than gym.

Chase grins at me. “You remember the suicides?”

A slow grin spreads across my face. I do remember the suicides. He told us we were going to run suicides as a warm-up before breaking into teams for basketball. We started off and I was determined to prove his views about girls wrong. In my mind I was adamant that I would be the last one running, no matter what it cost me. I didn’t have a clue what the fitness of those boys was like—or any of the other girls in the class, for that matter—but I didn’t care. I had to prove to that misogynistic, chauvinistic old man that girls could compete just as well as boys. We started running and as expected, a lot of girls dropped out quite quickly. That was fine—suicides are awful and not everyone is sporty—but after another fifteen minutes, a bunch of boys had dropped out too and were watching from the sides. I almost expected the old guy to blow the whistle and stop us, but every time I glanced his way, he was watching me, and I knew he was waiting for me to drop out. He wasn’t going to stop until it was only the boys left. Hallie was in that class too and kept pace with me for a while, but she didn’t have the fitness level she has now and eventually she dropped out too.

Then it was just me, Chase, and another guy. My legs were burning and my breathing had become difficult, but I was determined not to stop, determined to show this old pig what I could do. Finally it was just me and Chase left, slowed down significantly but still running. I remember feeling physically sick at that point, like I needed to vomit and my body was ready to shut down on me. I was almost ready to collapse on the floor when Chase bent down to touch the ground then collapsed, moaning in agony as he rolled onto his back. I kept on going, determined to try to make it look like I could do more and make sure it was abundantly clear to him that I was just as good an athlete as any of the boys in that class. Eventually he blew his whistle, his face like thunder, and the class started cheering for me. We didn’t have time for basketball, having taken up the whole class period running suicides, but after that he never made a derogatory comment about female abilities again, at least not near me, and he retired at the end of that year.

“Did you let me win?” I ask. I’ve wondered about that ever since it happened.

Chase scoffs. “Not a chance. I tried my hardest and you destroyed me.” There’s something like awe in his voice. “You made me up my game, and after that I started running every day.”

I smile. It’s good to think back and remember when I proved that old man wrong—but that was then. “This is different, Chase. This isn’t running suicides in gym class.”

“You’re just going to prove whoever is talking shit about you wrong, just like you proved that teacher wrong.”

“But what if I can’t?”

“Look, why do you play soccer?”

I don’t say anything. He knows why—for the same reason he plays.