First and Goal (Moving the Chains #1) (14 page)

I look ahead, deciding to ignore that last comment that is clearly intended to push me away again. “Well, I did just practice for about two hours, so…yeah.” Stupid sweat.

I pause as we near the entrance of the building.

She releases her death grip on my arm. It immediately feels cold where her skin is no longer in contact with mine, but I shake it off and open the door for her to limp through.

“I’m gonna run down to the locker room and grab my stuff, then I’ll be right back. I really don’t think we should try to make it upstairs to the library.” Just inside the door is a wide breezeway, and I set her bag down beside her as she leans against the wall. “We could just as easily work right here so you don’t have to walk so much.”

“Seriously? Out in the open like this? Wasn’t helping me across the field just now damaging enough to your reputation?” She looks up at me with an arched eyebrow, clear disbelief painted across her sharp features.

And we're back to this again. At least she isn’t acting like I’m only trying to have sex with her. I call that a small win. Maybe telling her what happened with the team last year was the best play after all.

“You know I’m not like that. Never have been, never will be.” I’m trying my best here, but if she’s going to keep throwing new plays at me, I have to stay on my toes and buy more time in the pocket. “I think it’s you who doesn’t want to be seen with me. Afraid I’ll ruin your band queen image?”

She scoffs at me, but doesn’t break our locked gaze. “Band queen?”

I straighten myself up and shrug, trying to maintain an unaffected demeanor after breathing in her sweet scent. “You’re the drum major this year.”

She furrows her brow, still looking up at me. “How did you know that?”

“Eh, you know. Here and there. The usual rumor mill.” I give her a quick wink, enjoying throwing her own words back at her. “Rumor also has it you’re the president of Honor Society this year. You know what I think that means?”

“That I’m a certifiable geek and next in line for a locker room bet?”

“Nope. That we’re evenly matched.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Evenly matched for what?”

“To be friends, Eva. To be friends.”

If she can change her plays, then so can I.

W
e’re sitting in Rob’s usual booth. It’s weird to be here as a customer instead of an employee. Weirder still to be sitting across from Rob Falls even if we’re only doing school work together.

When he returned from the locker room, freshly showered and smelling better than any man has a right to, he convinced me to come to the diner with him for tutoring. I relented because I know he’s always hungry after practice, and he selflessly agreed to help me with calc. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way his wet hair clung to his forehead. My agreement also had little to do with the dimpled, boyish smile that he used against me like a weapon of mass destruction. It one hundred percent was not because of the story he told me about the way he stuck it to his teammates that messed with Neveah.

As soon as we arrived, Rob propped my ankle up on the bench seat beside him. Margie brought me ice for it. She and my boss, Sheila, took one look at me and immediately understood why I called off.

I scan the dining room for potential gossipy classmates to fuel rumors about our involvement while Rob checks over my homework.

“I told you on Monday that you didn’t actually know the real me, and I wanted to change that, but you clearly don’t believe anything I tell you, so…ask me anything.” His face is hidden behind my paper, so I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not by his expression.

Since I don’t want him to call me out for being a bitch again, I decide to play along. “What’s your favorite color?”

He peeks out from my homework, and the look of shock on his face is priceless. “Um, blue. Yours?”

“I thought this was about me getting to know you. I never agreed to letting you know me.” Old habits really do die hard.

“Fair enough.”

“Black.” I can’t resist screwing with him. Even though I’ve just given him what he wants, he didn’t expect it…again.

It might be entertaining to see how much I can surprise him. “Favorite food?”

“Steak. Yours?”

“Lamb.”

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever actually had lamb before. What’s it taste like?”

“Uh, lamb.” I have to work hard to stifle my laughter. His eyes practically pop out of his head in disbelief. He really must not have expected me to play along so easily. “Favorite class?”

“Stats. Yours?”

“Comparative government. Favorite teacher?”

He laughs as he slides my paper across the table. “Well, it’s not Mr. Smith!”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” He probably hates Mr. Smith more than I do for forcing him into this little arrangement, no matter how much he denies it. “Um, let me think…favorite song?”

“I could sooner pick a favorite star in the sky. I call foul on the grounds that only people who don’t actually listen to music could pick a single favorite song.”

I’m dead. Rob Falls just killed me with words. Damn him.

I look down at my homework, trying to resist the common ground he just stumbled upon. “How’d I do?”

“Got ‘em all. I think you’re set for tomorrow.”

Whatever he’s become since last year, one thing is certain. Rob is saving my ass by giving up his social life for me. I’ve gotta give credit where it’s due. “Thank you. I honestly could not have done this without you.”

He opens his mouth to respond but stops abruptly and looks up.

“Hey, Gena,” he chirps.

The fact that I hadn’t even noticed her standing at the end of the table startles me. Our conversation wasn’t
that
interesting.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Gena Bertucci is five feet of pure attitude. She’s a senior like us at school, but her and I never spoke two words to each other before we started working together last year. She had the impression I was an overachieving cool kid simply because I participate in lots of activities. She certainly treated me with the same disdain that I feel for the popular crowd. Her attitude towards me thawed after a few months when she realized her mistake. I’m nothing like the pretentious assholes at the top of the social ladder at school. We’ve been friends ever since. I can’t say I’m not still pissed at her for calling off last night, though.

“What the hell happened to you?” Her temper subsides when she spies my bandaged ankle.

“I fell off the damn podium at practice and twisted it. Did you think I called off for shits and giggles?”

“Well, I didn’t think you were stupid enough to call off and then waltz in here on a date.” She looks at Rob with a dreamy expression in her eyes.

Oh for the love of God, is there a girl alive who’s immune to Rob’s good looks?

“It’s not a date. He actually, um, is my calc tutor and bio partner.” I really just can’t bring myself to say he’s my friend.

“You absolutely hate that, don’t you?” He leans back in the booth, crosses his muscular arms over his chest, and grins like the Cheshire cat.

We put in our orders with Gena, and I make fun of him when he orders the same thing he does every time. He simply rolls his eyes and smiles his dimpled grin at me.

“How did you and Mike get to be such good friends, if you don’t mind my asking? I mean, with your jock prejudice and all.” He winks at me to show he’s kidding and takes a swig of his Coke.

I straighten up in my seat, scan the room again, and debate in my head just how well I want the quarterback of the football team and president of Student Government to know me. Being less bitchy doesn’t have to mean giving him ammunition against me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get too personal. You’re supposed to be asking me questions, not the other way around.”

Taking a deep breath, I hope that Rob already knows Mike’s story. I don’t want to be divulging information he wouldn’t want one of his best friends to know. “Our dads left around the same time. That’s how we became such good friends. Bonded over common tragedy, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know, and I definitely didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Gena interrupts the awkwardness by delivering our food.

Rob begins stuffing his face, his mouth full of masticated hamburger when he utters a grateful, “Thanks.”

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. Gena and I exchange glances before she walks away, equally grossed out. I’ve already seen his terrible manners, but we’re out in public where everyone else can see him ravage his dinner. “You eat like a fucking pig.”

“Yeah? And for such a pretty girl, you sure have a dirty mouth.” He smirks at me, scarfing down his food as though he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’s clearly not trying to impress me, that comment might make me uncomfortable. I decide to simply wave him off. “They’re just words. Okay, back to my questions for you.”

He nods his assent from across the table as he shoves the rest of his burger in his mouth.

“Do you behave like this when you’re being Alex’s wingman?”

He raises his brow at me and finishes chewing before giving me his answer. “Is this a serious question, or are you just messing with me?”

I hadn’t meant it as one of the get-to-know-him questions. It just popped out. “Um, yeah, serious. Because I think I’m starting to see why you’re always the one winging it.”

This conversation could head in a dangerous direction. I busy myself with my own food and think about a safer line of questioning.

He sighs and picks at some of the fries left on his plate, trying to come up with a response. “I’ve never set out to actually try and impress a girl so I honestly don’t know. I guess I just act the way I usually do. Is that…a bad thing? Am I not supposed to be myself?”

I do not know what to make of his questions. For the past year, I’ve been inundated with the cocky version of Rob. What I’m seeing and hearing now isn’t even the old, shy Rob. This is someone totally new, completely unfamiliar. He seems almost…vulnerable, afraid of my answer.

“I don’t think I’m really qualified to give you dating advice. Moving on. What’s your favorite kind of music? Since we already established that you can’t choose a favorite song.”

His easy laughter returns with the change in topic. “Country. Yours?”

“Oh, no. Not country. Now we definitely can’t be friends. God, you’re also probably a Republican and anti-feminist. You’re like the centerfold for white, male American magazine or something.”

“Wait, so you think I’m built like a freakin’ god,
and
I could be a centerfold?”

My cheese fries attempt to climb back up my throat, and I cough. I snap my gaze up to him. Instead of a conniving expression, staring me down like a piece of mindless meat, I see only his jovial face, his chameleon eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter, and the dimple in his right cheek peeking out with the effort of controlling his grin. He’s messing with me.

Oh, well played, Mr. Falls.
“That’s your response? Really?”

He laughs, shrugs. “Well, I figure I had to lead with something disarming before I systematically refute every assumption you just made about me. Except that I am actually a white, American male. I have no rebuttal for that.”