“Thanks, Tiny,” he said as I started to walk away from him.
There was a tone to his voice that sent shivers up my spine. I stifled a groan when I realized what that meant. I was starting to like Tyson. More than a teenage crush. I was starting to like him, like him. This revelation was not going to end well for me.
Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to push the thoughts from my head and walk as fast as I could to Economics. I’d deal with the emotional implications later.
Chapter Eight
Apparently, the last thing a person should do is stare at their crush all afternoon. Especially if that crush was wearing tight football pants. It was taking all my control not to march across the field and…
I shook my head. I shouldn’t finish that thought. I should think of Tyson as a blob. A gelatinous substance I could never have a relationship with. Because that was the truth. I could NEVER have a relationship with Tyson.
I dropped my gaze and toed the grass under my shoe. I needed to focus on something else.
“You feeling okay?” Dad asked from behind me.
I turned to see him with his clipboard in hand, studying me.
Truth was, I was exhausted. From the emotional toll of keeping a secret from Dad—to the emotional rollercoaster I was on every time Tyson touched my hand. It was catching up to me.
“Yeah, I’m not sure. I think I might need to lie down.”
Dad nodded. “Good idea. Plus, I don’t need you getting my team sick before the big game.” He turned his attention to Shorty, who was sitting on the bench. “Shorty, come here and take over.”
The poor kid’s face drooped as my dad’s words registered. Instead of running out onto the field to play with his team, he was going to have to stand by the table and hand out water. I shot him a sympathetic look. I felt for him, but there was no way I wasn’t going to leave when given the chance.
“Sure, Boss,” he said as he set his helmet down next to him and stood.
I nodded to Dad and made my way over to the school building. Just as I passed the field, I heard my name. Part of me wanted to turn to see if it was Tyson calling after me. But I wasn’t sure how I felt about what it meant if it was him and what it meant if it wasn’t. So I pushed forward, keeping my head down until I got inside.
In Dad’s office, I kept the light off as I pulled a few of his chairs together in a line. Trying hard not to think of all the many behinds that had sat on these chairs, I lay down on top of them and tried to relax. It had already been a long day, and if I was going to help Tyson tonight, it was going to be even longer.
It took some time, but my eyes finally drifted shut and my mind stilled. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
It must have lulled me to sleep because, the next thing I knew, Dad was tapping me on the shoulder. I startled awake, sitting up as I tried to clear my mind.
“You okay?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep.” I turned my head, trying to work out a kink that had formed from sleeping on four chairs that should probably have been thrown away years ago.
He eyed me. “Well, I’m happy you decided to take some time to rest.” He walked over to the desk and set his clipboard on it.
I sat up and stretched, glancing toward the hallway outside of his office. “Practice over?”
He grunted a response.
Figuring that I wasn’t going to get any more from him, I turned my attention to the clock on the wall.
4:30
I retrieved my phone from my backpack and tried to look relaxed as I scrolled through the messages. My heart stuttered to a stop when I saw I had one from Tyson.
Tyson: I hope you’re feeling better. Have to bail tonight. Responsibilities.
I studied his words. For a moment, I let the thought that he was blowing me off for another girl linger, but then I pushed it from my mind. I wasn’t going to become that person. I wasn’t a crazed jealous girl. Tyson had his life, and I had mine.
Me: Have fun. See you tomorrow.
I hit send and tucked my phone into my backpack. I was actually happy to have a night off. Right now, digesting my feelings and getting a handle on my thoughts sounded better with Tyson not being there.
“You know what I could use?” I asked Dad as I slung my backpack on my shoulder.
He glanced up at me and quirked an eyebrow.
“Shakes and colossal burgers from Ted’s.”
Dad nodded his approval. “Ooo, haven’t been there in a long time.” He glanced at his watch. “Give me fifteen minutes, and we can head out.”
Ted’s Malt Shoppe was a fabulous little place two towns over. It was a place that didn’t skimp on anything. I ordered the colossal burger every time, but only could finish half before I wanted to explode. Dad and I started going there after Mom left. Besides our tree house, it was the only other place that was special to just us.
I settled down on one of the chairs and dug into my homework. Before I knew it, Dad was standing over me.
“Ready?”
I nodded, tucked my stuff back into my bag, and followed him out of his office.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the small parking lot of Ted’s Malt Shoppe. After parking haphazardly, we both got out and slammed our doors at the same time. I smiled. It felt good. I missed hanging out with Dad.
As crazy controlling as he was about my love life, he was actually a cool guy to spend time with. We’d get to talking about sports or people-watch, and we’d lose track of time. We were pretty similar, he and I.
He pulled open the door, and the smell of fried food and malt powder wafted out. I took in a deep breath, reveling in the familiarity of this place. Sixties music blared from the jukebox along the far back wall.
“Well, I’ll be.” Justine, a waitress who’d hit on my dad more times than I could count, lowered her order pad. “If it isn’t Josh and Destiny,” she said, giving Dad an approving smile.
“Justine,” he said, nodding in her direction.
I watched as his cheeks turned red. Was Dad embarrassed? It’d been a while since we’d come to Ted’s, and maybe I’d never really noticed. But Dad was actually blushing. Weird.
Justine waved her hand toward a trucker in a ball cap, whose order she was taking, and made her way over to us, grabbing two menus along the way. “I haven’t seen you two in ages.” She eyed Dad, stepping a bit too close to him. “I thought you moved.” She gave him a wink. “Glad to see I was wrong.”
Dad cleared his throat and nodded. “A booth would be great,” he said, stepping aside. I could only assume that if he had his way, he’d be out of this diner as fast as possible.
But I was hungry, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
Justine gave him another wink and nodded for us to follow her. Just as we rounded the corner to where the booths were, I stopped.
Ms. Swallow was sitting at the far booth with her head down, reading a book.
“You’re right here, honey,” Justine said, motioning toward the booth next to us.
I glanced toward where she indicated and then up to Dad.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded as I slid in. Justine laid the menus in front of us. “My chemistry teacher is here,” I said.
Dad coughed and turned. I watched as his gaze landed on Ms. Swallow. He had a strange expression on his face as he turned back to me. “That’s the new chemistry teacher?” he asked. His voice seemed forced. Like he was trying to hide something.
Double weird.
I nodded, unfolding the menu. “Yeah.”
Justine seemed to have been listening to our conversation because I saw her study Ms. Swallow. “Oh her? That’s Ted’s niece.” She tsked. “Poor thing comes in every night for dinner.” She lowered her voice and studied us. “Such a waste. A girl that pretty should be with someone, not alone.”
As if she sensed she was being talked about, Ms. Swallow looked up.
All three of us snapped our gazes away from her and down to the table.
“I’ll have the regular burger and chocolate shake,” Dad said folding up his menu and handing it over to Justine.
“Same for me. No onions,” I said.
Justine grabbed our menus and nodded. “Got it.”
Once she was gone, Dad reached into his front pocket and pulled out a few coins. “Wanna pick some music?” he asked, nodding toward the jukebox.
“Really, Dad? I’m not five.” But deep down, I wanted to. I just didn’t want to seem too eager. I had the teenage image of not-caring-about-anything to uphold.
Dad studied me. I saw in his gaze that he didn’t buy my crap. “Okay,” he said as he shrugged and started to scoop up the money.
“Actually, I’d love to.” I grabbed the remaining nickels and sprinted from the booth before he changed his mind. As soon as I stepped up to the jukebox, I knew exactly what I was going to play. I loved anything Neil Diamond, but my favorite was Sweet Caroline.
After punching in B-7, I tapped my fingers against the glass window as the first notes started. I loved the build up in this song.
“Tiny?”
I jumped. Tyson was standing behind me, wearing a hairnet and apron. My eyes widened. What was happening? Was I dreaming? It was strange that I would dream about Tyson working at my favorite restaurant. What did that say about me?
“Tyson?” I squeaked. I had half a mind to reach out and see if he was really there.
He glanced around, and for a moment, I thought I saw his cheeks redden. Was he embarrassed that he worked here?
“What—what are you doing here?” He tried to run his hands through his hair, but his fingers just got caught in the holes of the hairnet. As if he suddenly realized that he still had it on, he pulled it from his head and shook his hair out.
“Eating,” I said as I was slowly starting to put together the pieces. “Do you work here?”
He hesitated before he nodded.
“So I’m not dreaming.”
A slow smile spread across his lips. “You dream about me?”
I snorted and scoffed at the same time, which came out as a choking sound. He raised his eyebrows, and heat raced across my skin.
I was not acting cool about this at all. The only person to blame for my reaction was him. Sneaking up on me like that.
“No,” I said. But it was too late. Tyson Blake knew that he was the star of my dreams. I pinched my lips closed. I was scared I would share just how many dreams he’d been a part of.
“I’m sorry I bailed on you. I tried to catch you after practice, but you were with your dad and I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” he said. He sounded genuine. But that was not what I focused on. It was the one little word, dad.
I peeked around him and over to our table. Dad was studying his phone. Thankfully, whatever was on his screen was much more interesting than watching his daughter choose songs.
I grabbed Tyson’s arm and pulled him out of view.
“Tiny,” he said in that flirty tone that made my stomach flip. “You don’t have to manhandle me.”
I shot him an exasperated look and dropped my hand, trying to ignore the feeling of his skin against mine. Since when were guys’ arms so muscular? I hadn’t felt his biceps before, and now I was never going to be able to get that thought from my head.
“My dad is sitting over there,” I said in a hushed voice. For some reason, I had thought it was better to drag Tyson into the small hallway where the bathrooms were located. We were now only a foot apart.
Tyson’s skin paled as he reached out and opened the door behind me. I couldn’t help but stare at him as he got closer. I could smell his soap, and his soft cotton shirt rubbed against my skin. Shivers raced across my body.
“Here,” he whispered. His voice was inches from my ear.
My breath caught in my throat. “What?” I asked as I forced myself to turn around. He’d opened a supply closet. “You want me to go in there? It looks like the opening scene of most murder movies.”
He chuckled as he pressed on my lower back. Out of instinct, I moved forward until we were both standing in the closet—inches from each other—and he shut the door. Darkness surrounded me. What was happening?
“Tyson?” I asked, turning with my eyes wide. The only light I saw was the sliver that came in from under the door.
“Sorry.” Tyson’s voice sent my heart racing. He was so close to me. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him.
Suddenly, the light from a single bulb filled the room. I blinked as spots floated in my vision. “Trying to blind me, Chicken?” I alternated between rubbing my eyes and blinking. I heard a soft chuckle, which caused me to stop. “What?”
He was watching me. “Chicken?”
My cheeks burned when I realized I’d called him by the nickname I’d made up. “Um, yeah.” I folded my arms, rubbing my hands against them. This evening was taking the strangest turn.
He stared at me. I hated the way his half smile made me want to confess everything to him. Why was I so weak?
I blew out my breath. “It’s your nickname. That way, if my dad looks at my phone, he doesn’t know who’s texting me.” I drew out each word as I studied him. Was he offended? I really thought it was the best for the both of us.
He hesitated. “And Chicken was the best name you could come up with? Not Hercules or Greek God?”
I laughed, which came out more like a snort. “Really? That may be pushing things.”
He contorted his face into a sad expression. I rolled my eyes.
“It’s Chicken because of your name. You know, Tyson Chicken Nuggets?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, not a fan of that.”
I shrugged and looked around. There were shelves with cleaning supplies and paper products all around us. A mop bucket took up half the floor, which caused Tyson and I to stand close together. I cursed and blessed that thing at the same time.
“It’s already on my phone. You can’t do anything about it.” I shot him a smile.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Oh, it is.” I stopped myself. What was I doing? Was I flirting with Tyson? But he was doing the same to me. Did that mean he was flirting back? Suddenly, I wanted to flee the closet. “So, did you need something from me? Or do you drag all the customers in here?”
He laughed, genuine and unabashed. And I loved it. “I drag all the customers in here.” Then his expression grew serious as he studied me.
It must have been the lack of oxygen from standing in a small space with a guy so much taller than me, but I swear he leaned closer. Like, his lips came closer to mine. What was he doing?
He needed to back away. I’d already almost hugged him. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I thought he was leaning in for a kiss.
“I missed talking to you,” he said. His voice was low and intentional. Like he knew what he was doing to me. And knowing him, I wasn’t surprised.
“We talked this morning.”
He shrugged as he reached out to fiddle with something behind me. I swallowed. Was he really doing something or just making an excuse to get closer to me?
As much as I wanted to fight it, I really hoped it was the second reason.
“Talking about chemistry is not the same.” He glanced down at me, meeting my gaze. There was something in it. A depth that scared me.
I needed to break this trance he had me in. “How’s your mom?”
That did the trick. At the mention of her, his brow furrowed and his eyes darkened. He pulled back. “She’s been better.”
I didn’t realize the amount of body heat Tyson emitted until he pulled away. The room around me felt frigid. As I watched Tyson stiffen, I suddenly realized that mentioning his mom had been a mistake. I hadn’t meant to make him upset.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, Tiny. I should get back to the kitchen. George will freak out if I’m gone too long.
” He grabbed his hairnet from his pocket and studied it.
“Oh, okay. I should probably get back as well.”
He nodded as he moved his gaze over to me and then ducked his head. Just as he opened the door and stepped out, there was a “humph” from the person he ran into. My heart quickened as I peeked out and saw the wide eyes of Ms. Swallow.
Chapter Nine
I was an idiot. Why I ever thought I could handle sneaking around with Tyson Blake boggled my mind. I knew we were going to get caught, I just didn’t figure it would be by our chemistry teacher.
“Tyson,” Ms. Swallow said as her gaze ran over him. Then it fell on me, and her eyebrows rose. “Destiny?” Her brow furrowed. “What were you two doing in there?”
Tyson cleared his throat. “Ms. Swallow,” he said as he nodded and slipped past her.
I watched him duck through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. He’d left me alone. With Ms. Swallow. To explain why I had been in a supply closet with a boy. Thanks a lot, Chicken. That nickname matched him more than ever.
“We were…” Why couldn’t I think of anything to say? I had the whole English language on the tip of my tongue, but none of it was coming together to form cohesive sentences. “We were…” I cleared my throat. “Um…”
Her eyebrows rose with each failed start.
Thankfully, Dad appeared behind her. Wait. Not thankfully. This was about the worst thing that could ever happen. I glanced at the shelf in front of me and grabbed the first thing I could see. A roll of toilet paper.
“Tiny, why are you in the closet?” he asked.
Ms. Swallow jumped and turned. Thankfully, their meet-cute gave me a second to come up with a plausible story.
“Toilet paper,” I said, before anyone else could speak.
I had both of their attention now.
Dad quirked an eyebrow. “What?”
“The bathroom”—I waved toward the door across from the closet—“was out of toilet paper. I figured I’d help a sister out and grab a roll so they weren’t stuck to drip dry.” I cringed at the fact that I was still talking. I needed to end this conversation and get back to the table, where my mouth would be preoccupied with eating.
Rule #1: You Can't Date the Coach's Daughter (The Rules of Love) Page 6