For the Rush(23)

“Ryan’s a jerk, okay? He never should’ve treated you like that, but it’s just how he is.” Holden stepped closer to me, invading my personal space. It made me uncomfortable, and I stepped back, my butt hitting a nearby car. “But I’m not like him.”

“So, he’s not a friend of yours?” I glared at him. A group of rowdy boys passed us, all shouting and razzing each other.

Holden’s shoulders dropped, an expression of defeat shrouding his face. It was all the answer I needed.

“That’s what I thought.” I shook my head.

“Just because he’s my friend doesn’t mean I’m like him,” Holden defended himself. “I don’t pick on anyone.”

“But by choosing to hang out with someone who does, it’s like you’re saying it’s okay,” I pointed out.

Holden’s mouth thinned out into a hard line. “It’s not that simple. Ryan and I have been friends since we were kids. You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through. I do.”

“I know he’s an ass. That’s enough for me,” I said.

“It must be nice to see everything in black and white.” Holden surprised me by touching my arm. I flinched. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Preston standing at the edge of the parking lot, watching us. The look on his face caused a chill to skate up my back. Before I could analyze my reaction, Holden moved even closer to me. “But you can’t judge people that quickly. There’s always more under the surface. All I’m asking is for you to hold off judgment on me until you get all of your facts.”

I swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to say yes. With Holden’s hand on my skin and his eyes piercing mine, I lost all sense of right and wrong. All the doubts I’d had about Holden previously flew out the window. Maybe he was right. Perhaps I was too quick to judge him. And how was that any better than what people did to Preston? They judged him based on rumors and perception, without ever getting to know him. I needed to practice what I preached. And that’s how I found myself nodding and agreeing to give Holden a second chance.





CHAPTER 11


Holden



My friendship with Ryan started with a fistfight.

It was middle school and Ryan was the kid no one messed with. At lunch some of the kids played football out on the field. It was supposed to be for fun, but when Ryan played it became more serious. He was out for blood. It was like he took out all his aggression on the field. What started as a pickup game soon turned into an all-out brawl when Ryan was involved. The days when he didn’t play were the best. It was during those days that I realized how much I loved the game. How much I loved the feel of the football in my hand. Loved the rush of throwing it into the waiting arms of another player.

Every day I ate my lunch quickly, anxious to play. But when I’d walk out onto the field and see Ryan there, my stomach twisted, apprehension filling me. Sometimes I’d just walk away and find something else to do. Other days I’d suck it up and play anyway. It was on one of those days that Ryan and I got into a fight. He was pushing me around, spouting off trash talk. And not friendly trash talk. No, there was nothing friendly about the things he was saying. It was mean-spirited, and I’d had enough. Even then I knew I had talent. It was clear that I could throw unlike any of the other guys. And I wasn’t going to let Ryan ruin football for me any longer. So I fought back. I came at him with words first, but when he didn’t back off, I used physical force. We ended up rolling around in the grass, throwing punches until a yard duty stopped us. We both ended up getting suspended, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom so pissed at me. However, Ryan treated me different after that day. He treated me with respect, admiration even, and soon a friendship formed. As I got to know him, I realized why he acted the way he did. Being tough was all he’d ever known. Being raised by an abusive dad and older brothers who pushed him around, he had to be like that. It was the only way he could survive.

When I signed up to play football recreationally in seventh grade, so did Ryan. I was good at throwing, but Ryan was fast. Like one of the fastest runners I’d ever seen, and he could catch almost anything thrown at him. Therefore, we fit together perfectly. Me as quarterback and him as a wide receiver. We made a great team. He was the guy I searched for on the field before making a throw, and together we’d won many games.

Ryan always had my back, and we’d been there for each other through a lot. I knew what Chloe saw when she looked at him. A meathead. A bully. A jerk. And those words did describe him. But there was more to him than that. He was loyal. A great athlete. A good friend. And even though I didn’t agree with everything he did, I wasn’t ready to turn my back on him.