Achieving Unbroken
Chapter Thirty

—

"You're the spark that makes my heart burn brighter,
I would walk through fire for you"
For You | The Vamps

—

Lilla
[Thursday, June 31st, 2018]

I've been pacing around my bedroom for 10 minutes now.

Jason had football tryouts Tuesday and yesterday, and Coach Jenson said that they would get back to all of the people who made the team by 4 PM today. If you don't get an email, you aren't on the team. It's that simple.

Right now, it is 3:49 PM and I have been spamming Jason like crazy.

Me: Have you gotten the email?

Jace: You say "the email" like I'm guaranteed to make the team.

Me: You made varsity as a sophomore. That's not normal.

Jace: So?

Me: SO he knows what it's like to work with you and overall he knows your potential. Knowing Coach Jenson, he won't pass up an opportunity to make you a football star this season.

Jace: "Knowing Coach Jenson"?

Me: His daughter Jenna is an up-and-coming drama kid. He shows us lots of support. He's chill.

Jace: lol ok

Me: But stop avoiding the subject! You've got to make the team and if you don't then Jenson's gonna be hearing from me.

Me: ... Email?

I check the time in the corner of my phone. 3:51 PM. Ugh.

Jace: If I get it, don't you think I would tell you?

Me: Well, yeah, but what if you forget?

Jace: :-/

Me: Fine I'm stupid just tell me when the damn email comes in!!!!

Jace: haha will do

Why do I seem more on edge about this than him? I want him to make the team. He loves football, and he's so good at it, and I want him to have that chance. He deserves it more than anyone.

I continue to pace around my room, and two minutes pass with no news. Huffing, I stomp downstairs to see my mom working at her desk.

"Oh thank God, I thought you were going to be running a marathon in your room forever," she groans, taking her glasses off and throwing them onto the desk. "You look more stressed than when you didn't know what your Physics final grade was. What's up?"

"Jason had football tryouts this week and he's supposed to know if he made the team in-" I check the time, "-seven minutes."

Mom rolls her eyes.

"Well that's more his issue than yours, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but it would help him get more social if he made it. Plus, he really wants to be back on the team. He's an amazing player."

"This is the most excited I've ever heard you talk about sports. Is this that important to you? Is he that important to you?"

I sigh, gaze locked on the phone in my hands.

"Yes. Very." Mom's gaze softens, and she stands up to place her hands on my arms.

"Then whether or not he makes the team, you're there to support him and he's lucky to have you."

My mom and I share smiles; her's knowing and mine appreciative. I open mouth to thank her for the pep talk; but my phone lighting up in my hands distracts me. Jason's calling. I jump away from her and fumble around with my phone from shock and answer.

"Yeah?" Mom gives me a curious stare, and I hold my index finger up.

"What's your favorite place to eat?" Jason's voice questions through the speaker. I feel my face twist in confusion.

"Um... The Honey Bear Bookstore? Why?"

"We have some celebrating to do. You at your mom's?"

"Yes, oh my God Jason-"

"Great! Be there in ten."

And he hangs up without another word - leaving my question "shouldn't we be celebrating your success at your favorite restaurant" on the tip of my tongue.

"What?" Mom asks, now anxious to hear the news.

"He made it!" I exclaim. "He's gonna be here in ten and we're going out to celebrate."

My mom gives me a once over, and it's in this moment that I realize I'm still in my PJ's. Shit.

"I have ten minutes!" I yell, and I can't tell if I say it to assure the both of us or because I'm terrified that I have such a short amount of time to get ready. I race upstairs, almost falling twice.

With lightning speed I change into a cute but casual pair of high-waisted sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. I run to my bathroom to get on some eyeliner and mascara, and throw my hair around until it looks presentable. Throwing my wallet in my purse, I toss the bag over my shoulder and am back downstairs to wait for Jason with three minutes to spare. Mom lifts her head that was focusing on her work to scan my appearance.

"You know, if you got ready that fast during school then you wouldn't have to get up before six AM," she comments, looking back at her computer.

"I have time to wake up during summer, though. Not during school."

She doesn't respond, just smirks. I roll my eyes and briskly walk into the entryway.

"Oh, okay, goodbye!" She yells after me with an annoyed tone. Laughing, I stomp back into her office.

"Love you, Mom," I bend over and hug her. She hugs me back.

"Love you too. Tell Jason congratulations for me."

"Will do."

I go back into the entryway, and as soon as I get there, there are a few knocks on the door. Flinging it open, I instantly launch my arms around Jason's neck and bring him in for a hug.

"You did it!" His arms wrap around my waist tightly; literally lifting me off of the ground. Jason let's out a relieved sigh.

"God, I'm glad that's over. Come on, I'm starving," he nods toward his car. I practically sprint to the car and throw myself inside; body buzzing with excitement. His face stretches with a smile and he gets in the car beside me.

"Before you go on and on about how psyched you are-" he stops me before I can do, well, just what he just said. "I'm not a starter. I'll be on the bench most of the time unless Coach lets me start for a game or unless Dane, the starting quarterback, gets hurt."

Despite him expecting me to be disappointed or less excited about his information, I grin, wide.

"That doesn't matter," my head shakes back and forth. "You're on the team. You get to go to practices and play football and be a part of a team. I'm so happy for you."

Jason appears to be a little surprised that I'm still so excited about him making the team regardless of how often he will play. It's so funny that he thinks that there's a way he could have disappointed me in this situation. Even if he didn't make the team, I wouldn't be upset.

"Thank you," he gives me a shy smile and the two of us start driving down the road to the Honey Bear.

The Honey Bear Bookstore & Cafe is a privately owned bookstore, and while it has a homey feel to it, it's not a stereotypical little bookstore. The place is massive, the best selection of books I've ever seen. And the food is to die for.

So, basically, this is my favorite place. Good food and good books. Who needs more?

"This was a great call," Jason moans with a mouthful of the sandwich that he got. "I haven't been here in awhile. It's good."

"Thank you. I'm here just about every weekend, and I actually work here during the summers."

Jason's head pops up from his food.

"Are you working here this summer?"

"Yep." I take another bite of my sandwich and let out a moan identical to Jason's. Through the corner of my eye, I see his eyes flicker at me when I do so, and I slightly squirm under his gaze. That's the first time I've had someone look at me like that, or more like that's the first time I've ever been affected by somebody looking at me like that.

"You'll have to hook me up with free books, then," he attempts, but I smirk.

"I'm part-time employee, not the owner. I can't even give out a 15% family discount."

Jason pouts, and I poke him with my foot under the table. He pokes me back, but a little rougher, and I know what he's trying to start.

Him and I start a rapid foot fight under the table, shaking the table and chairs and drawing stares from unassuming customers. We keep our focus on each other as our feet kick and stomp and try to nail each other's feet to the floor. Eventually, I surrender; hardly being able to focus on the game when I'm laughing so hard.

"So, are you glad that we finally have summer?" Jason asks me after a few moments, still breathless from laughter.

"I'm ecstatic. How do you feel?"

"I'm excited to take a breather this summer. I've got football, I've got you around, I've got my family. I feel good."

"You ready to do this thing?" I ask him, with a little teasing in my voice.

"More than ever."

"Well then," I raise my glass to cheers, "here's to you making the team. I knew you would."

He raises his glass so that it's adjacent to mine, touching it, but he doesn't just clink it and retract it. He keeps it there.

"Here's," he draws out, "to us."

Trying to hide the developing cheesy grin on my face, I duck my head in acknowledgment.

"To us," I echo.

And - not for the first time - it almost feels real.