Alley-Oops I Think I'm Falling in Love (With the Wrong Guy)

|  ARIA |

A month and a half had passed since that fateful splintering of the Rat Bastard Pact. I wish I could say that's the last I saw of that unsavory creature, but Roscoe Tate was the gods' own favorite and they made sure everyone knew it.

I thought Roscoe's popularity had already reached its zenith, but then he literally went and became famous. It was like that petty bitch Zeus had to go pour salt in the wound.

Roscoe's name was on everybody's lips, his face was in every sports column, he was crowned Mr. Pepperwood High at Homecoming... and yet, he was a wraith—he straight up vanished from my life. It made the time we spent together feel ethereal, like no one was going to believe that the Dark Lord of Hoops had been my chauffeur.

I was free of that blockhead at long last, I should be overjoyed. But as fake as our fake situation-ship had been, the break-up withdrawals were real. I did not expect to miss him. I didn't moon after him and cry myself to sleep, I didn't know that I was such a chump.

One of the student council members, a girl with far too much will to live, and no volume control, sprang forward and shoved a flyer into my hand. I took it just so she'd leave me alone. I grumbled to myself as I read it.

Men's Pre-Season Basketball Game
Pepperwood vs. Corner Canyon
Friday @ 7:00pm

Come see Pepperwood's Roscoe Tate beat the state record. AGAIN.

Of course there was a cheesy black and white photo of Roscoe palming a basketball and extending it towards the camera with an expression like he was about to go off to war.

Insert eye roll. I bet he felt pretty cool posing for that. I should ask him... ugh.

I tossed the wad of paper in the trash and headed into the locker room, my shoulders tense. Thank heavens basketball season had begun, it would do my body good.

... And it did. I felt better. Until the athletic director called for a mandatory meeting with the boy's basketball team right after.

My stomach lurched at the announcement. I grappled with the very real possibility that this impromptu meeting was to organize a Roscoe Tate fan club.

I was still cool with all my old hoop fiends, but they knew I wasn't rolling with Roscoe anymore, so things were... weird, really weird.

I should've known something was off as soon as Aziz stopped by my locker and invited me over. I was just happy Roscoe hadn't poisoned the well, so I was down.

When we got to Aziz's crib, no one else was there. Not too crazy, but then homeboy turned on a movie, turned off the lights... and got all butt hurt when I made fun of him for it.

He wasn't the only one. All of them were... too nice to me. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Okay Emo Aria, sorry the sun shined and the birds sang for you today." 

I'm for real though, if you're truly one of the guys, they don't go out of their way for you, doing cutesy, protective, stuff like they do in the movies. Nope. If they do that, homeboy's not your friend—he's hoping to be your Next Man. Real guy friends tolerate you. They aren't emotionally invested.

All of a sudden these idiots were making eye contact when they spoke to me, their body language was attuned to me... I couldn't stand it. I'm awkward AF remember? I vibed with dudes because I could just flit around in the background. Now they were putting me at center stage.