Secret Girlfriend (20 page)

Oh. My.
God.

She put the tiara on my head, giving me another bright smile
as she did. The upper and lower teeth smile. “You aren’t going to be sick, are
you?”

 
“Maybe,” I
answered, but not completely for the reason she thought. Chris? “But not until
I’m off stage.”

God, I wished Cheryl had won.

I couldn’t believe Chris bought my painting, especially
since it was of Luke coming to rescue me. What was he expecting? Was he trying
to Grand Gesture with my Grand Gesture? Did he think I’d choose him because
he’d made me queen? That I’d forget the hurt and embarrassment and place that
crown on his head? Did I owe him?

That he’d suddenly be the
right
guy?

Even as I herded those questions out of my mind, I pictured
him the moment Luke had left us standing in the hall.

Chris had looked vulnerable and sorry. He’d done and said
all the right things.
And since then, kept his distance while
still keeping an eye on me.
Waiting after practice till Rachel picked me
up. Making sure underclassmen carried the table back to the locker room… Not
hovering and forcing me to choose. But now Fate—or Chris—was forcing the
choice.

I suddenly felt like I couldn’t win
and
I couldn’t lose.

Mr. Edwards was pushing the
smiler
away and moving me toward the front of the stage where the stairs dipped toward
the floor. “Queen Amy, you may choose your king.”

I sought Justin out amidst all the vaguely familiar faces.
He was right where he said he’d be and, somehow just knowing he was there made
everything so much easier. At the bottom of the stairs, the spotlight shifted,
following me through the crowd toward the far end of the gym where the soccer
team hung out with their groupies.

That’s when it dawned on me. These people, these “peers”
hadn’t known I even existed for years. I could count on one hand the people who
really mattered. The rest… they were just background noise. Noise that got in
my way as I waded toward the bleachers where the biggest choice I’d make
waited.

From behind me, as the group gave way, the spotlight showed
a path to Chris at the end, lit up like a Christmas angel. He gazed down at me
as I stopped beside him, his eyes bright like those night lights he loved to
play under so much and my heart stopped as I considered my next move.

One choice would leave my heart bruised, the other his.

But before I even said a thing, his smile dimmed a little
and he gave a tiny nod before stepping out of the way.

“Amy.” His voice was low, but still managed to catch me up
short. “If he says no, I’ll be right here.”

I couldn’t make eye contact, couldn’t even look at him as I
nodded knowing I’d never do that to either of us.

The path didn’t wait for me to start to clear this time.
Everyone on that team knew where I was going and the poor boy couldn’t have
hidden if he wanted to.

At the end of my yellow brick road—okay, so it was a foul
line—Luke stood, one hand in his pocket the other fidgeting at his side. I
stopped in front of him, praying that if he was going to let me down, it would
be after the dance.

“Would you like to dance?” I asked, realizing how lame that
sounded but not knowing what else to say.
Great preparation
there, loser.

His face was hard, that crooked grin hidden in the tight
line of his lips. Hopefully his Mr. Manners side would kick his stubborn-streak’s
butt and he’d put me out of my misery before the entire gym started laughing.

“Amy, you’re messing up your chance.” He ran his hand
through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “If you grab it now, you’ll be
set with him. You’ll be with the guy you wanted.”

I didn’t know what to say. I stood there dumbfounded. Not
only did he not want me, but he was pushing me toward the guy he’d been trying
to convince me was bad for me since the day we met.

“Don’t blow this, Amy.” His hand fisted at his side. “I didn’t
have Jared spend all of Half-Time trying to win that painting so you could go
the safe route.”

As soon as the words left his mouth I knew he hadn’t meant
to say them. I could see him practically trying to grab them back from the air
between us.

My heart stopped and my eyes fell shut, afraid of what he
was saying. Afraid of what I’d see.

“You want me to pick Chris?” I waited, still not looking,
forcing him to say the words out loud.

When the answer finally came it was low, barely a whisper in
my ear. He was so near I could smell his soap and feel the heat rolling off
him.

“I want you to have everything you deserve. I want you to be
happy. I want you to know you’re worth whatever the price was.”

My eyes flew open, afraid I was reading into what he wasn’t
saying. Afraid I was hearing what I wanted to hear. I took his fidgety hand in
mine, tethering him to me, afraid he’d bolt.

He stared down where our hands wove us together. “All week I
watched you watching him. How he ignored you the whole time, and I wanted to
beat the crap out of him again.”

OMG.
Not even a chance this was
happening. Not.
One.
Chance.

I squeezed his hand, hoping he’d look at me now that my eyes
were open—in more ways than one. “I was watching him because I felt bad.
Because I told him no.
Because I told him I wanted you.”

His head came up, searching my face as I continued.

“If you say yes, if you take this ugly crown, I’ll be with
the guy I wanted.
The one who
always
saw me.”
I looked up past those thick lashes and
hoped my heart and gut were right. And then I did it. I begged. “Be the guy who
wanted me. Who
wants
me.
”

His other hand slid from his pocket and took the hokey
brass-plated crown and shoved it on his head. “I’ve been that guy since the
first moment I saw you.”

That crooked grin hitched back up, finally showing itself
again, as his gaze lowered to my mouth. I knew—
I knew
—what he was going to do. Even standing there in the
spotlight with everyone looking at us, and pretty much guaranteeing a detention
for PDA, I smiled back.

Luke’s free hand came up to brush my hair away from my face.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” I said the moment before
his lips brushed over mine and everything faded as colors crashed into one
another behind my eyelids.

In the distance, I heard the team start
hooting
at us and Luke pulled
back,
his cheeks flushed pink as
he glanced toward them.

The music started and his hand fell to my back, leading me
to the center of the gym. I didn’t even care that the tiara dug into my scalp
when I rested my head on his shoulder. All I cared about was me and him and the
fact that there was nothing secret about the way we felt about each other.

Chapter
31

Everything fell away as my Nike covered feet slapped the
pavement. I focused on my breathing, drowning out the sounds and smells and
sights around me. Just like every other time I tied those shoes on, I was
alone.
The internal world of a runner.
Me versus myself.

And five hundred other racers.

I focused on the time I had to beat and felt another little
pump of adrenaline shoot through my body. Coach Melrose’s training schedule had
been brutal. If I’d wanted it easier, I could have gone back to the RVHS
cross-country team and dealt with the snotty girls there.
Yeah,
not so much.

The cool September breeze kept my skin from getting too
heated, but on a short 5k that wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I liked the run.
I liked feeling my body work and knowing I was pushing it. And then pushing it
some more.

A third person fell from the pack in front of me and I kicked
it up a little, just enough to pass her by.
One by one.
Just like Coach M talked about. Track them. Stalk them. Pass them. Win.

I’d never thought of myself as a competitive person. Running
was for me. But the way he pushed and trained, when that gun went off I wanted
to beat every runner in the world.

Another one dropped back and I maneuvered myself past him. I
wasn’t as close to the front as I wanted to be, but it was my time I actually
worried about. I’d been mid-pack at that starting line. Hopefully I’d made up
the difference to cross the finish with the official race time hitting my goal.

I didn’t want to let Coach down.
Either
Coach.

The crowds along the edge of the road became thicker,
louder, too obvious to ignore. The end was getting near. I gave myself a mental
nod and pushed.
Pushed myself like I never had in a school
race.
Pushed myself like I never
had to
in a school race.

I shot by three more people before the finish line timer
came into view. It was going to be close to break that time.
Push,
push, push.
There was no way I was going to be this close to Coach
Melrose’s set time goal and not make it. With a last ditch effort, I all but
threw myself forward over the finish line, the timer a blur over head.

One of the race coordinators placed a hand on my shoulder,
guiding me out of the way, walking me to a grassy area where those who’d beat
me were already walking it out or stretching to cool down.

“I said by the end of this season.”

I fought a smile at the mixture of pride and annoyance
coming from the shouting coach stalking toward me.

“I said play it
cool
, let’s see
what you can do. I told you not to push it too hard. We talked about this being
a pace-race to re-gear your training.” Coach Melrose squatted in front of me as
I dropped to the ground and reached for my way-to-far-away toes. “So, can you
explain to me what that was?”

I grinned up at him, unsure if he was really upset at my
aggression or not.

“It was a good day to run.”

“Whalen, I can see why
Sarche
handed you over. He didn’t have the patience for you.”

A gruff voice came from my other side. “The best thing I
ever did for you was hand you my girl here.”

The two coaches glared at each other. I can only imagine
they considered their own competition a sign of a deep, long-standing
guy
friendship.

“Good job, Whalen. Stop standing around here. Don’t be
late.” And with that Coach
Sarche
stomped off.

Don’t be late? When was I ever late? I beat
him
to practice half the time.

 
“Alright.
You’re dismissed. Anyway,” Coach M jerked his head
toward the edge of the park. “That boy is hovering. It’s distracting.”

And with that, another coach stomped off.

A pale purple bottle drifted under my nose. Check him out
knowing Rain was my favorite Gatorade.

“Hey.” And—of course—he still hadn’t learned a new way to
start a conversation. “You were great.”

Luke’s strong arms wrapped around me,
lifting me off the ground.

As soon as my feet hit the dirt, I pushed away.

“And sweaty.
Like, yucky sweaty.”

His grin hitched up on the right, the one I secretly was
convinced was just for me. “
You
hug
me after my games.”

Yeah, how to explain that was completely different. His
sweat wasn’t all yucky proof of not being a girly-girl thing.

“What’s up with Coach Melrose?” He asked, watching the man
walk away.

“Apparently, I ran too fast.”

Luke stared at me for a long moment before busting out
laughing. “Only you could annoy someone by excelling.”

He tossed a bag at me with my clean, dry shirt and the tea
tree oil wipes I was addicted to. I’d thought I’d have to wait to get to the
truck. Seriously, has there ever been a better boyfriend?

In case you were in doubt: Nope.

But then he just stood there with that Luke Smile watching
me.

“Um…”

“Yes?” He looked at the bag. I could see him wondering if
he’d forgotten something.

“Could you look over there?” I pointed in the opposite
direction of where I stood, which was where the Port-a-potties just happened to
be.
Figures.

He glanced over his shoulder and then back.

“Nope.
Keep looking.” I rummaged
through my bag, tugging the T-shirt out. I could feel my skin heating. Man, I
hated blushing.

He looked again.
Briefly.
“Amy,
what exactly am I looking at?”

“Luke,” I sighed his name. And not in the he just kissed me
way. “Would you just look over there until I say so?”

There was that grin again. “So you can change your shirt?”

Proof! Proof guys weren’t
total
idiots. “Yes!”

I knew it wouldn’t be a simple pivot-and-look-elsewhere deal
when
that smile
quirked again.

“But you run in your sports bra when it’s just the two of
us.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’re not running now.”

“Well, it definitely covers more than your swimsuit.”

“We’re also not swimming now.” I glared at that
quirked-smile-face. “And, are you saying my bathing suit is too skimpy?”

 
His ears flushed
pink. If I was going to blush, he might as well too.

“No.” He drew the word out like he wasn’t sure what the next
one should be.

“Then turn around.”

Yeah, I know. One thing didn’t equate to the other, but it
helped to force the issue while he was flustered. I was learning. Rachel would
be so proud.

 
“Okay,” I said,
after pulling a clean tee on.

He turned back to face me, his ears back to normal
beige-tan, and hoisted my gym bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”

I nodded and threaded my fingers with his, palm to palm. At
the truck, Luke opened my door and waited, as always, for me to climb in so he
could close it.

The day was so comfortable, so happy. I knew I was being all
Introspection Girl, but I couldn’t help but really love my life today. My life
and what it was now.

I had my dad and the perfect boyfriend and the best
girlfriend and two Coaches who were pushy and overwhelming. I had running and
art. I may not have been invisible any more, but the important people saw me
for who I really was. And I wasn’t afraid of being seen by everyone else
anyway. Which was good since the whole invisible thing didn’t seem to be
working out so hot.

It was the perfect day to just—

“Luke, you just passed my street.” I must not have been the
only one zoning out.

“I know.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze, but kept driving.
Right to his house.
Where there were a suspicious
number of cars in the driveway.

“What’s going on?”

“A Celebration Barbeque.”

 
He pulled me
around the side of the house to where the Parkers and Rachel and the Coaches
all lounged on the deck while Mr. Parker and my Dad worked the grill.

“What the heck is going on?” I whispered before they noticed
us, some of my old panic flaring up for just a moment.

Luke leaned down to whisper back, holding us apart for just
a few needed heartbeats.
“Your dad.
He wanted to do
something for your first race, but didn’t know what. So my mom kind of planned
a barbeque. You know my mom.”

I glanced back at the group, again worried about…
everything.

Luke squeezed my hand and grinned. “You’re lucky she didn’t
have a marching band or something.”

Oh. Dear. Thank goodness for small blessings.

“I’m kidding, Amy.”

Luke pulled me toward the porch, the warm smell of barbeque
and the cool scent of autumn mixing in the perfect Indian summer kind of way.
Everyone cheered and the two Coaches didn’t even scowl as we joined them.

My dad, my really wonderful dad, wrapped me in a hug, his
voice coming low enough for just me. “Amy, you were awesome.”

I really did
not
want to cry. But, they were all being so nice, and my dad being there, being
proud of me. I know a lot of girls would hate it, hate having their parents
hanging around. But me, I’d take it.

It wasn’t like things were happy-happy perfect. Dad and I
still had rough moments. He’d really embraced this parent thing and couldn’t
seem to grasp that I wasn’t ready to go back to being eleven so he could catch
up. Curfew was a new idea.

Mrs. Parker came to the rescue on that too, and he agreed to
match mine to Luke’s.

And then there were his weekly meetings. He’d joined a group
for widows and widowers. Some nights I still heard him pacing the house, but he
was there, at home, with me.

He made me go to a couple meetings too, but I wasn’t in the
same place the kids were who were dealing with it fresh. And that was okay too.

When the dad-hugging was over, Luke wrapped his arm around
my shoulder in a reclaiming way that told me he wasn’t going to give up the
hug-zone again anytime soon.

I looked at everyone lounging around the Parker’s deck and
said exactly what I felt. “I’m the luckiest person I know.”

And I was.