Accepted Fate (11 page)

I finally get the fish close to the boat and Ryland scoops it into the net. He cuts the line from the fish and places it in the storage compartment of the boat. Placing his hands on his hips, he narrows his eyes at me as if trying to figure something out. "Mind telling me what is going on with you? I've never seen you spaced out like that and you looked like you were seconds away from breaking that rod in half and ready to stab someone."

I lock the rod into the pole lock on the deck of the vessel until I rebait. I rub my hands over my face in aggravation. "Dude, I don't know. I can't get this girl out of my head. It's driving me crazy. You know me, I never get this way. Maybe it's just because she's not easy like the rest of the girls I usually mess around with. I don't know, but I've got to fix it. I can't handle all this shit in my head."

He looks at me and a knowing smirk takes place over his face. He grabs me by the shoulders. "You, my friend have the hots for Kinzleigh Baker. The one thing every guy that has crossed paths with her has had, but never actually been able to obtain. She's every man's dream, but that's all it's ever been for the rest of us is a dream. I'm going to be honest. Several have tried and gotten nowhere. I'll help you get on her radar, but man I'm not going to lie, you're going to need a lot of luck because I've seen many crash and burn when it comes to her. Maybe you'll be different for her. For your sake, I hope you are."

He is really not helping the situation any. The last thing I want to hear is the many different failed attempts of men trying to make her theirs. "Man, would you shut up? That is the last thing I want to hear." I pull my cap off and throw it down the deck.

He just watches me act like an idiot, not saying a word. I've been known to have anger problems. "Be realistic bro. Even if she gave you the time of day, what are you going to do when you have to leave come six days from now? Kinzleigh is not the kind of girl you screw and run back to Mississippi with another notch in your belt. She's the kind of girl you take home to meet your parents; the kind of girl you marry. She, my friend, is a rare breed, a diamond in the ruff. Once you get a girl like her, you try everything in your power not to screw it up, because chances are you won't find another one like her in your lifetime. Don't think about yourself, think about her. It wouldn't be fair. You know every girl in your clutch falls for you. Am I wrong? Look at the way things turned out with Natalie. If you want to have a good time, I'll introduce you to the right girls, but she's not it."

I pull away from his grasp and cross my fingers behind my head, exhaling for relief. If I really think about it, he makes sense. I really didn't think this through. What am I going to do when I go back home? Most grown adults don't keep up anything long distance much less high school kids. I'm definitely not anywhere in the realm of marriage.

Running my hand through my hair, pulling it in different directions, I sigh. "You're right; I guess I haven't really thought about it. We'll just go to the party and have fun. There was a cute girl last night that came on to me. Maybe I can revisit that offer." I tried to smile but it wasn't real.

"Nice, who was it?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Lexi I think, I wasn't really into it then," I say.

He bites his lip a little trying to hide a smile. "Now we're talking something that can be done. Piece of cake."

"Aight, cool, I guess it's settled then." I try to get in a good mood but it was just kind of slaughtered. "Let's get this done, you know I can't go home until I beat you." My competitive smile takes place.

Ryland stands there and studies me a few more seconds. He seems to be contemplating something by the way he is rubbing his chin with his fingers. "Let's do this."

We spent the rest of the day fishing. Once I got my head back in the game, I did pretty well. Ryland ended up with a catch of five at day's end and me with seven. Uncle Joe had four. We're headed back to the house and it's about four forty five in the afternoon. I'm staring out the window, index finger propped over my lip and thumb resting under my chin with my elbow on the door, lost in thought.

"You boys have fun," Uncle Joe asks looking in the rear view mirror.

"Sure, Uncle Joe. Thanks again," I say, never looking his way. I can feel Ryland staring at me but I can't bring myself to look away from the window. I can't concentrate on anything; nothing but...her. It's really starting to anger me at this point. I feel like hitting something. I tap my knuckles against the window trying to relieve the tension before I actually do hit something.

Everything Ryland said was true though. I have to figure out a way to forget about her. I can tell she isn't just a hook up kind of girl and that seems to make forgetting her more difficult. Maybe I can just be friends with her.

Friends are better than nothing at all; although, I don't know how I'm supposed to do that after getting a taste of those sweet lips. I have never been a kisser before. Personally, I think it's too intimate for my taste. It's just another way for a girl to develop feelings. Girls at my school know by now, relationships aren't my thing. Natalie is the closest I came to one and it was evident what that was.

With Kinzleigh it was different. It was like I couldn't control myself around her. The first thing I wanted to do and the last was kissing her. Getting a taste had to be the smartest and stupidest thing I've ever done. Like a drug addict thinking he can get one taste of his potent poison. Maybe Ryland is right. Maybe I just need to find the closest hot girl and get her out of my system. That's exactly what I'm going to do. I've made up my mind. The problem is trying to get my mind to actually believe it'll work.

We pull into the drive and start walking to the pool house when Ryland breaks me from my thoughts. "Hey cuz, you want to go out tonight? I know a few things going on."

We get to get door and unlock it with the key. "I'm kind of beat. Mind if we just stay in tonight? Watch some movies maybe," I say. His mouth drops a little. I guess I do sound like a total douche. I'm usually the first one to be up for a party, especially on Saturday night. Walking in the pool house, I head towards the couch and grab the remote as I sit down.

"You're really bummed out about her aren't you? I thought you were just hot on her dude, I didn't know it was like that. Crap man," he says, removing his visor and running his fingers through his longer hair, curled up above his ears.

"Nah, you're right. It wouldn't be right. She's just different from any girl I've come across. I don't know maybe I do just need to hook up with someone. Maybe it's all this Natalie crap coming at me. I just don't feel like partying tonight."

He grasps the back of the couch with both hands. He's staring at me as I browse through the channels. I can see him through the corner of my eye. "I'm fixing to head to RedBox and get some DVD. Any requests? I'll get a pizza on the way back. Drinks should be in the fridge."

"Okay cool. Just no chick flick and I'm good" I go to grab for my wallet but he starts shaking his head.

"Keep it, I got it this time." He pulls out his phone and starts touching the screen before holding it to his ear. "I'll be back shortly." He turns and heads for the door, but right before he shuts it I make out the first few things of his conversation. "Presley, I need a favor." I wonder if he's making a stop on his way. Didn't the guy just get some last night?

CHAPTER 6

Kinzleigh

I've been hard at work since ten o'clock this morning with my cheerleading coach. I never even took a break for lunch. I have too much on my mind. For starters, the images that my traitorous brain decided to play like a movie during what could have been a peaceful night sleep. I woke up in a complete sweat scared to go back to sleep at the thought of returning to one beautiful half naked body on top of mine, kissing me senseless. The best way to control its wandering abilities is to focus on my stunting.

Coach Andy grabs me by the waist and throws me into a liberty. My knee shakes as I try to lock my right leg into position, "Stick it Kinzleigh," he yells as he struggles to hold me steady. I'm always the flyer because of my size and I'm really good at it. I rarely have problems sticking and for the first time I feel like an amateur. As I'm pulling in my left foot towards my knee to finish, I lose my balance and fall, coach catching me on the way down. "Where's your head at today, girl? You're never this clumsy and I've worked with you for seven years now."

These are words I never hear from my coach and it infuriates me. Nothing ever gets in my way of cheerleading. "Just a slip up Coach, I must have went up unbalanced. Let's go again." He repositions on the mat behind me, placing his hands around my waist again.

"One man stunt this round. You ready," he asks into my ear. Andy has been my coach since I was ten. He's about average height at 5'11 and has light blonde hair and honey colored eyes. He's the strongest person I know. He is about thirty now and takes coaching very seriously. He has the body to prove it. He also does coaching for the university squad nearby. Once mom realized that the cheerleading dream was apparently not going away, she looked up the best coach around. She told me if I was serious then I was going to be trained by a professional.

I nod, slightly squatting to give me some extra height and place my hands on his wrists. "What kind?"

"Just go into a tuck once you're in the air but don't forget to lock on your way down. I want it clean and flawless. Got it? One, two..." He lifts me by the waist and throws me high into the air. I perform the perfect tuck before he grabs me by the middle of each foot at chest level and extends his arms high above his head. "Tighten your form Kinzleigh," he says looking up at my arms wavering slightly in the 'V' position. "That would be a deduction on your score at competition. You need to pay attention a little more closely. You're really off today. Get ready to de-mount." He lowers me back down to chest level and tosses me just high enough to cradle me in his arms.

He sets me on my two feet. Crap! This freaking sucks and I won't allow myself to screw up. I can't remember the last time coach had to correct me. "I want to go again," I say.

"Maybe we need to call it a day or work on something else. I think your mind is elsewhere and it's showing in your form."

"No coach, I'm good. Let's go again." I refuse to show weakness, especially in front my coach. "What about the scorpion? You up for it? I need the practice now more than ever. You know I have tryouts coming up in a few weeks for the national all star squad, I cannot fail, I've been working for this too long."       

This is one of the things I have been waiting on for several years now. This is the one thing I have trained and shed sweat and blood for. My parents will not take this away from me. I don't care where they move me. I have been waiting for my tryout invitation since I applied freshman year and I have only had my acceptance invitation since last December. They send out invitations six months before tryouts to give you ample time to train. I was so excited because it came the week before Christmas.

There are four divisions across the country. Usually, it's based on the territory that you live in; however, it is not a rule. Trust me, I have seared them into my memory bank. To even try out you have to apply and then after extensive review of your application and credentials, wait on an invitation. The board of judges only picks the best girls in the country and there are only a limited amount of open spots each year. They only invite seniors and college age applicants for tryouts and compete all over the world. To even get a tryout says a lot about your level of skill and talent. If I make the team I will have experiences most people only dream about, plus every win, members get a bonus of cash and prizes. Before, I wasn't really worried about the money, but now that my parents are trying to shatter my dreams, I need every penny if I want to move back to California after senior year.

"Kinzleigh, I've known you for years so why don't you just tell me what's going on in that head of yours. It may help you practice to get it off your chest." Coach knows I never talk about my problems so I don't know why he is even asking. Heart to hearts just make things awkward for everyone involved since no one really understands except oneself. Some things are better just left locked away.

"Can we just practice? I don't want to talk about it. You know me coach. This is how I deal with my crap." I'm hoping this can be the end of this conversation. I never deal with intimate conversation well. It just makes me nervous.

"I guess we can do a few more mounts," he says looking at his watch. "It's almost six. We've been at this since this morning, are you sure you don't want to call it a day?"

He begins to smile because he knows me better than anyone. Even covered in sweat, as I am, and feeling the soreness in my muscles, I could do this well into the night. The right side of my lip pulls up into a slight smile as I shake my head in response. "I didn't think so." He winks and turns to walk to the trampoline. "Come on, we're done with lifts for the day. We can practice on your tucks and back hand springs for a while. You may be small, but I've been lifting you since you warmed up this morning. My arms need a rest," he says teasingly.

I follow him to the trampoline and hop on. I begin securing the halter from the bungee cords that hang from the ceiling beams. We always practice on the trampoline if we're tired or learning something we haven't done very much and then take it to the ground once we're ready. I'm securing the last strap when I hear shuffling feet behind me.

"There's my favorite bi-atch!" That's a voice I would know anywhere; the one and only Presley Dunagin. The question is, though, why is she here? I have a hard enough time getting Presley here when she has to practice for the team much less during her summer vacation.

I turn around to face her. By the looks of her wardrobe she isn't here to practice. She has her hair curled in big waves down her back and her makeup heavier, as if she's going out. She is wearing white denim cutoffs and a black low cut, quarter sleeve length top with tan wedges. Her cleavage is peeping out of her neckline. I shouldn't be surprised. Ever since she came to school freshman year bearing full C-cups, she has them on display whenever possible.