8
At seven fifty-five, my mom was done with my makeover. We stood next to each other and studied my outfit in my bedroom mirror.
Low-rider jeans.
Uggs.
And a V-neck top that was sort of fitted. Not tight but not hugely baggy, either. I’d bought the shirt a year ago when I was out with Sara and Beth, and I’d never worn it. It was simply too girly. I’d bought it only because they’d made me.
But my mom insisted, and she’d done my hair and my makeup and even let me borrow her diamond pendant.
She smiled as she tucked a strategically dangling tendril of hair behind my ear. “I must say, I’m very impressed with myself.”
“I’m going to go roll in the dirt as soon as I’m outside.” My heart thudded as I inspected myself. For the first time in my life, I looked like a girl.
And you know what? I loved it. I absolutely adored how I looked.
My mom’s smile widened. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I can’t go into Pop’s like this.” I took a deep breath and tried to slow my racing heart. God, could I really do this? Walk in there looking so…female?
“Sure you can. You’ll have a blast.” She held out a little navy purse with embroidery on it. “Just bought this. You can use it.”
It looked just like the purse Miley Cyrus was carrying in the latest issue of Teen People. I grabbed it from my mom. “You’re the best!”
“I know.” She hugged me, and we were both careful not to mess up my outfit. “Go have fun, okay? Just make sure that you help out Sara too.”
I nodded, still looking at myself in the mirror. My new haircut looked great, with the layers falling over my face and the highlights shining in the light.
“Ah, my little girl.” My mom brushed my cheek with the back of her hand. “How did you get so smart?”
I stood taller. “I’m not your little girl.”
She cocked her head. “No, I suppose you’re not.” For a moment, she almost looked sad, then she cleared her throat. “Do you want a ride?”
“And have my mom drop me off?” I teased. “No way. I’ll walk.”
She nodded, her eyes bright. “I figured you would. Keep your phone on, in case I need to reach you.”
“Always.” That was the condition of the phone, and I wasn’t about to blow it. “I’m out of here.” I hesitated, then threw my arms around her. “Thanks, Mom!”
“Anytime, sweets.”
Then I let go of her and ran down the stairs. To go to Pop’s. Looking like a girl for the first time ever.
I was totally embarrassed, and I couldn’t wait.
I walked into Pop’s at ten after eight and nearly turned around and walked right back out when I saw how many kids were there.
The place was packed, music was roaring, and there didn’t seem to be an empty seat. So many kids I knew, so many I didn’t. There were tables of girls giggling and laughing, tables of guys being loud, and tables of girls and guys hanging out. I suddenly felt completely out of my comfort zone.
I hadn’t been to Pop’s on a Friday night in ages, and now I remembered why.
This wasn’t my scene.
At all.
Especially without Sara and Beth to back me. Where were they? I looked around but didn’t see them. If they weren’t here, I was so going to leave….
“Trisha!”
I jerked my gaze to the right, and saw Kirk waving at me. He had one of the big booths by the window, by himself. Relief surged through me at the sight of someone I knew, even if it was Kirk.
Clutching my cute little purse to my chest, I pushed my way through the throng of kids.
“Hey.” He grinned as I slid in opposite him. “I got here early to snag a table.” His gaze went to my hair and I suddenly got nervous.
“Hi.” I fiddled with a few strands, wishing I’d put it in a ponytail. What had I been thinking, letting my mom blow it dry?
“You look cute.” He sounded surprised.
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Was he making fun of me?
He shook his head once, his gaze traveling over my face, my outfit, and even my purse. “I just…I mean…you don’t look like you normally do.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “So?”
“So, I like it.”
I studied his face for a long moment, but his gaze was steady. I realized that he meant it. I really did look okay. My body relaxed and I leaned back. “Well, then, I guess, thanks.”
He nodded. “I’m going to get a drink. Hold the table?”
“Sure.” I cleared my throat. “So, um, are Sara and Beth coming, or what?”
“Yeah.” He slid out of the booth to his feet, his gaze flicking to my hair again. He shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “So, you want something to drink?”
I grinned at his reaction. “Diet Coke. Get a pitcher. That’s what Sara and Beth drink too.” Sara…I needed to deal with that. I mean, I should tell him, now, that Sara likes him. “Um, Kirk, about Sara…”
Suddenly I lost my train of thought when I noticed Graham walking toward us, carrying a couple of drinks. He glanced at me, and his eyes passed over me, then his gaze snapped back to my face, his eyebrows nearly shooting off his forehead.
“What about Sara?” Kirk prompted.
I waved him off. “I’ll tell you later. I’m really thirsty. Go get me something to drink. Please,” I added.
He shrugged and headed to the counter, giving Graham a second look as he walked by him, like he was trying to place him.
Be cool, Trisha. It’s all about the sports.
Graham headed straight toward my table, his gaze pinned to my face.
I held my breath and sat straighter as he approached. I could totally handle this. Really.
9
Graham paused at my table, his eyes scanning my outfit like crazy. “Hey,” he said. He was wearing baggy jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black tee shirt, and a black leather jacket. Um, hello? Hottie alert. Since when did he own a leather jacket?
“Hey, yourself.” I shifted in my seat and clenched my hands under the table, where he couldn’t see them.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah, I’m feeling better. I crashed when I got home for a few hours. But I’m really wigging that I missed practice. I’m going to head over to the school in the morning to drill. You in?”
His gaze flicked to my diamond pendant. “Um, I don’t know….”
I shrugged. “Whatever. Just thought I’d throw it out there. I was going to practice some of those moves we were talking about last night, during the game.” Talk soccer. Talk soccer.
A fresh light came into his eyes and he slid opposite me. “Which ones?”
Caught a whiff. He smelled good. I refused to notice. “That offensive move where the guy faked out the defender when he…”
“Right.” He nodded. “That was slick. And the one right at the end of the game where he passed the ball…”
“Well, duh, of course that one.” We’d talked about that play for at least ten minutes. “So, that’s cool if you’re not into it, but I was thinking I’d ask Sara and Beth to help me, if you can’t make it.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “What time?”
“Ten?” I smirked at him. “I suppose that’s too early for an old guy like you.”
His eyebrows went up. “Old? I’m a year older than you.”
“I know. You got any gray hair yet?” I reached over and pretended to pluck one from his head. “Got one.”
He grabbed my wrist and tugged my hand away from his head. “Cut it out, you crazy chick.” But he was laughing, looking at me the way he always did. He tightened his grip around my wrist as I tried to get it free. “Fine. I’ll practice tomorrow. I can’t leave you on your own. You’re too dangerous to yourself.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he leaned forward to peer at it. “Looks like the burns are healing well. No nee
d for emergency tongue surgery.”
“No thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“You bought the pizza, so it’s your fault.” I giggled as he tried to put on an offended face. “Oh, give it up, Graham. You’re so not innocent….”
Someone cleared their throat and we both looked up. Kirk was standing there frowning at our hands.
We followed his gaze, realizing at the same time that Graham still had his hand wrapped around my wrist.
We jerked our hands back, and Graham slid out of the booth, his face suddenly wary again. Oh, great. Back to that already? He’d been the one holding on to me!
“Okay, so, see you later, Trisha,” Graham said. He nodded at Kirk. “Later.” He grabbed his drinks and bolted.
I tried to watch where he went, but Kirk moved into my line of vision as he sat down. So I craned my neck to see around him, relocating Graham just in time to see him sit down at a table full of guys at the back.
No, wait. It wasn’t just guys. There were girls. I sat up straighter, my heart starting to pound. Did that blond hair belong to Ashley? Was he at Pop’s with Ashley? I clenched my fists as I saw her turn to the side so I could see her profile.
Yep. It was Ashley. And she had her hand on Graham’s arm. And he wasn’t bolting! What was up with that? Since when did he like girly girls? Did he actually like them and he was just pretending to hate them as a reason not to like me? Was it me, then, that he didn’t want that kind of relationship with?
I felt sick. Totally sick.
“Trisha?”
I dragged my gaze off the train wreck at the back of the room and looked at Kirk. “What?”
“You okay? You look kinda strange.”
I took a deep breath, which was totally shaky. “I’m fine.”
He slid the pitcher and a glass of ice toward me. “That’s the guy from the football game, right?”
“Uh-huh.” I tipped the glass and managed to pour the soda without spilling it all over the table. Was Graham still there with Ashley? Was his arm around her? Was he looking at me? I wanted to know. Had to know. Refused to turn around.
“So, um, he keeps looking over here,” Kirk said.
“Really?” I grinned, but I didn’t look at Graham. No way was he going to catch me looking at him.
Kirk leaned back in his seat. “So, you said you guys weren’t dating, but that’s not true, is it?”
I snorted. “Oh, it’s true.” I took a long drink of soda and eyed the window we were sitting next to, trying to see if I could see Graham in the reflection. Was that his table? Yes, yes, it was! Right on!
Then my gut sank. Was his arm really around the back of Ashley’s chair? It couldn’t be! Must be a distortion from the reflection. I looked at Kirk. “Is his arm around the back of that girl’s chair?”
Kirk looked at me for a long moment, then he turned in Graham’s direction. “Yeah, it is.”
I pressed my lips together and tightened my grip on my cup.
“So, that’s how it is.” He sounded resigned.
I stared at the little bubbles on the surface of my soda, watching each one pop. You will not look at Graham. “How what is?”
“You have a crush on him.”
I jerked my gaze to Kirk’s. “What? No way! Hah. That’s totally stupid!”
He lifted his brows.
I lifted mine right back.
For a minute, we had an unspoken eyebrow-lifting contest, then I grinned. “You win. I’m getting a headache.”
He smiled and let his brows drop down. “So, you really meant it on the field that day when you said you weren’t into me?”
I shrugged.
“Huh.” He shifted in his seat. “So, maybe I should hit the road, then. Before the others get here.”
He started to slide out of the seat and I grabbed his wrist. “Wait!”
“Trisha—”
“What do you think of Sara?”
He looked at me blankly. “Sara? She’s nice, I guess.”
“But is she cute?”
His forehead wrinkled slightly. “Well, yeah. Of course.”
Oh, she was so going to kill me for this, I knew. “She really likes you.”
He stared at me, his eyes wide. “What?”
“See, that’s one reason why I never thought of you as a guy. I couldn’t! She’s liked you forever and I’d never do that to her.”
He leaned back in his seat with a thump, staring at me. “You’re kidding. Sara? But she’s such a flirt. I didn’t think she meant anything by it….”
“She’s that way only with you.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Kirk, give her a chance. She’s actually really normal. She just wigs around you because she likes you.”
“Wow.” He rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “Wow.”
I leaned forward. “So? Do you like her, then?” On second thought, she wasn’t going to kill me. She was going to love me forever for this one.
He grimaced ever so slightly. “She’s not really my type, you know?”
Oh, no. “But she’s cute and friendly….”
“Does she ever sweat?” He rolled his eyes. “That’s why I like you, Trisha. You’re cool. You’re into sports. I dig that.”
“But you’re not into sports. All you do after school is hang out at my practice. That’s why I can’t like you. I can’t be with a guy who’s less of an athlete than I am.”
He shot me a cocky grin, his eyes suddenly sparkling. “Before you judge me, you might ask me if I play any sports.”
I frowned. “Do you play any sports?”
“Ice hockey.”
Surprise made my mouth drop open. “You do? When?”
He pulled the straw out of his drink and began to twist it around his finger. “Well, as you probably know, our school doesn’t have ice hockey, so I play in a private league year-round. We have ice time at five A.M. every day, and play games on Sunday afternoons.”
“Really?” I leaned forward, interested in what he had to say for the first time ever. “Are you good?”
He shrugged. “I’m okay.”
“Which means either that you’re terrible or that you’re great and you’re too humble to admit it.” I cocked my head. “Knowing you, I tend to doubt the humble thing, so you must not be very good….”
He grinned. “Actually, I went to Canada last winter to play in some tournaments over the Christmas holiday.”
“Really?” I drummed my fingers on the table, feeling like I was looking at him for the first time ever. His eyes were sort of a dark green and his eyelashes were long. Interesting. “That’s so cool. I had no idea. I thought you were just this guy with nothing going on in his life other than torturing me.”
His smile got a little strained. “I torture you?”
“Well, yeah, usually. Right now, you’re almost tolerable, though.” I sat up, wrapping my hands around my drink. “So, tell me about Canada. Did you play Canadian teams or was it tournaments, or what?”
“You really want to know?” he asked, sounding surprised. “Most girls don’t really want to hear about hockey.”
“I do.” I leaned my elbows on the table and propped my chin up in my hands. “I think it sounds awesome. I’d love to be good enough to play in other countries. That’s my goal, you know. To be able to play college soccer, then go international. But you’re already doing it.” I sighed, gazing at him. “That’s so cool. How long have you been skating?”
A genuine smile softened his face and he shoved his drink out of the way and leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. “Well, I started when I was six….”
Twenty minutes later, we were deep in conversation about sports when Kirk suddenly stopped talking and looked at me.
Uh-oh. Did I have mascara on my eyelid or something? “What?”
“You want to go on a date sometime? A real date?”
Oh, wow. I sat back and looked at him. I mean, I was having a blast talking to him and he was cute and
everything, but, well…he wasn’t Graham.
He leaned forward. “I mean, we’re having fun, right? Getting along?”
“Yeah.” And we were. I should like him. I should. There was nothing wrong with him.
“So, let’s try it.”
“Well…” No. I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t want to. I was simply too into Graham, and going on a date with Kirk wouldn’t fix it. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Sara even if I did like him.
“Trisha?”
I cringed and looked up. Sara was standing right next to the table, a look of disbelieving horror on her face. “Sara! Kirk and I were just talking about you….”
“Yeah, I heard. Was that before or after you told him how cool he was for being a hockey player? Before or after he asked you out on a date?” Her voice was cold and I saw Kirk’s eyes widen.
Beth stood behind her, looking way uncomfortable. “Um, so, what’s up, guys?” Her gaze darted around the room. “Is…Ross here?”
“He’s coming,” Kirk said, still staring at Sara, who looked like she was about to explode. There was a definite thoughtful gleam to his eye—the kind a guy gets when he’s just been told that a girl is in love with him. Like, “Oh, here is one of my adoring fans.”
“Come to the bathroom with me. We need to talk,” I said, trying to catch her eye.
“No. Way.” Her eyes flashed with anger. I’d never seen her so mad. “You just lost me as a friend, Trisha Perkins. I will kick your butt on the soccer field next week, and you are so going down.” She spun around. “Come on, Beth.”
Beth shot me an apologetic look. “Call me later,” she mouthed. “We’ll talk.” And then she hurried after Sara.
Crud. I dove out of the booth and grabbed Sara’s arm. “Wait!”
She whirled to face me. “How could you do that? How could you go for him? You know I like him!”
“I didn’t go for him!” I lowered my voice, knowing Kirk was only a few feet away, but the place was so loud that I prayed he wouldn’t be able to hear me. “I told him you liked him!”
“What?” She screeched. Kirk could totally hear that. “How could you do that? I’ll never be able to look at him again!”
The Boyfriend Game Page 7