“Think you can refrain from pushing me?” I shot back.
He grinned. “I’ll try.”
“Then I will, too.”
We spent another thirty minutes working. At the end of our session, I was doing backbends all by myself. And they were fast enough that Nick said I was ready to add the walkover. The joy of mastering something I thought I couldn’t do almost neutralized my disappointment over the kissing debacle.
By the time I got home, I’d made two sad conclusions. Number one: Nick didn’t like me; he was just a big flirt. He could have kissed me. I wanted him to kiss me. I thought he could tell that I wanted him to kiss me. The moment was perfect, but he didn’t pull the trigger. This brought me to my second conclusion: I had to stop crushing on Nick Moody.
Chapter 19
Mia met me at the gym, shortly after leaving practice Wednesday night. The official plan was to add the walkover to her backbend. The unofficial plan was to show off for her, which I accomplished with flying colors. Tumbling was only a fraction of the gymnastics skills I had.
While we waited for a mat to free up, I fooled around on the pommel horse, the parallel bars, and my personal favorite: the rings. Naturally, I went shirtless again, because nothing showcased upper-body strength like holding an iron cross. I couldn’t do it for long, but it was long enough to see her blush as she watched me.
“You ready to try a handspring?” I asked. Classes had finished up, and everyone else was long gone. We had the place all to ourselves.
The blood drained from her face. “Tonight?” she squeaked.
I laughed. “I take that as a no?”
She bit her lip. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead.” I sighed dramatically, as if she were letting me down. Her face screwed up apprehensively. “Unless you really want me to?” I was starting to recognize her facial expressions. This was the I’m totally freaked out and trying to hold it together look.
“I guess it can wait for another day.” Visible relief washed over her. I, however, was disappointed. If we were done with the lesson, it meant she’d go home. And I wasn’t ready for that. I glanced at the clock over the door. “I know it’s a school night, but it’s only eight-thirty. Rocky’s is open until ten. You want to get that ice cream I owe you?”
Mia’s eyes lit up. “I always want ice cream. Let me call my parents to make sure they’re cool with it.” She got a quick drink and hurried off.
I did a sweep of the room, looking for trash and equipment that hadn’t been put away. It only took a minute. Then I walked back to the lobby, hitting the training room lights on my way out. Mia was on the phone, outside next to the front door.
It’d been four days since I almost kissed her. I wanted to do it, and at the time I was pretty sure she wanted me to. When I’d pulled her against me, I could feel the chemistry between us. A cocktail of pheromones had produced an emotional charge that sparked from her body to mine and back again.
But right as I was about to lean in, she stiffened. I thought about how reserved she could be and wondered if kissing her in front of other people might make her uncomfortable. Since the gym wasn’t the most romantic place for a first kiss anyway, I held off in favor of waiting for the perfect moment.
Except now, I wasn’t sure there’d be a perfect moment. Something was off. Mia had done a one-eighty. She was still friendly, and every now and then I caught her checking me out. But she felt more distant—figuratively and literally. She’d really scaled back on the flirty statements and left me virtually no opportunities to get close, much less touch her. Spotting her this evening had been the most physical contact we’d had all week.
Mia came back through the door with a shining smile. I needed to figure out if that smile was due to being with me or purely from the prospect of eating free ice cream. “I have to be home by ten,” she said.
“Plenty of time.” I locked the gym doors, and we hopped in my car.
We got to Rocky’s, and Mia stared at the menu board forever. Finally, she looked back at me and asked, “Am I a pig if I want the three-scoop ultimate brownie sundae?”
I raised my brow. “Did you have dinner?”
“Nope. I went home, showered, and came straight here.”
“Then no, you’re not a pig.”
She grinned. “Good. Because I would have gotten one anyway, but it’s nice to know you won’t think less of me.”
I grinned back. “I like a girl who can eat me under the table.”
That was more obvious flirting on my part. Normally, I’d expect a giggle and a little shove or slap on the arm for teasing her like that. But tonight, she rolled her eyes and laughed. It was exactly the kind of treatment I’d been getting all week. Instead of a potential boyfriend, she had me feeling like a best girl friend.
I picked the same booth as the last time we’d been here, hoping to recreate the mood. Only this time she sat across from me instead of next to me. She also put her legs up on the bench, leaving me no chance of an “accidental” toe touch or knee brush. I was unsure how to broach the subject of her sudden withdrawal. It’s not like I could come straight out and ask why she’d stopped flirting back.
I didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, so I ordered my own ultimate brownie sundae. After taking a few bites, I asked, “Homecoming is only a week and a half away. You still want to go with me?”
She looked up with a long blink. “Why wouldn’t I? Do you still want to go with me?”
“Absolutely,” I reassured her. Then I made a cheap move. “I was only checking that you didn’t have your eye on someone else. You know, now that you’re really over Cole. I wouldn’t want to keep you from going with someone you actually liked.”
She was mid-bite, so she finished chewing and swallowed before frowning. “I like you.”
It was dumb to play this kind of game. I just didn’t have the guts to be straightforward. “I know you like me. But I mean, if there’s someone you’re…romantically interested in… All I’m saying is that my feelings won’t be hurt if you want to back out.”
Mia inspected her sundae. It was only half gone because she insisted on eating the dang thing like she was having tea with the Queen of England. The ice cream was starting to melt and pool up in the dish. After a second of avoiding eye contact, she looked at me. “Even if I did like someone, Stacie would freak out about her whole ‘no dating’ rule. And I couldn’t think of a friend I’d rather go with than you.”
I didn’t know how to take that. She didn’t admit to liking someone, but she didn’t deny it, either. She definitely didn’t make it sound like that someone was me. Plus, she called me a friend, so yeah, that was a stab to the heart. There was also the fact that she looked disappointed, sad even. Now I was worried that she wanted to go with someone else but felt trapped.
Why were crushes so difficult?
Mia was quiet as she finished her ice cream. “Is everything okay?” I finally asked.
Her head snapped up. “Yeah, everything’s great.” It wasn’t convincing.
I kept prodding and narrowed my eyes. “Because it seems like it’s not.” Stop being such a baby and ask her already. I gulped down my nerves. “Have I upset you or done something wrong? You’ve been acting kind of different this week.”
“No!” she stated emphatically. “You’re great, seriously.” Her cheeks turned red, a sure sign that she wasn’t being 100 percent truthful. “In fact, you’re a better boyfriend than my last one, and we’re not even dating.”
Ugh! I wanted to pull my hair out. Mia was so hard to read. I knew what she was trying to say, but I couldn’t help reading between the lines. Even if there was nothing to read. “Would you tell me if I’d done something to upset you?”
She stirred the remainder of her chocolate syrup around with her spoon. “Would you want me to?”
“Yes, I’d want you to.”
“If I’m ever mad at you, I’ll let you know. Though, I don’t imagine that happening any time soon.” My hands were resti
ng on the table. She reached out and took one, squeezing it tightly. “I promise, I’m fine.”
I wasn’t sure if Mia was feeding me a line or if she really was okay. I almost flipped my hand over so I could hold hers, but then I thought better of it. She’d just finished telling me that I was a great boyfriend, even though we were only friends. And that she wasn’t mad at me, even though she’d been acting different all week. I was now officially convinced that girls had no clue what they wanted or what they were feeling.
Mia changed the subject. “So, back to the dance. Do you have an outfit picked yet? My mom took me to get a dress last week. It’s amazing. Hopefully it’ll look good with what you’re wearing, because I’m not taking it back if we clash.” She was trying to lighten the mood, and I could appreciate that.
“What color is your dress?” I asked.
“Peach,” she replied.
I pulled a straight face. “I don’t know. My suit is maroon and made of this stretchy velvety stuff. I raided a box of my dad’s old clothes. Thought I’d go retro.”
Panic. Pure panic. It looked like Mia was about to hyperventilate. She forced a polite smile. “That’s nice. I’m sure we’ll look fine in our pictures.” I could tell it hurt her to say so.
I hesitated, letting her stew before I laughed. “That was too easy. I’m kidding, Mia.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she slapped her hand over her heart. “Thank heavens!”
“Your face was priceless. I wish I’d taken a picture.” She gave me the evil eye, and I laughed harder. “I have a gray suit and a navy suit. Which would you prefer I wear?”
She thought for a moment. “I think gray would look best.”
“Gray it is.” I smiled.
We sat in the booth for a while longer. The rest of our conversation was comfortable, two good buddies shooting the breeze. All the while, my stomach sank deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit of disappointment. Apparently, I’d misread her feelings last Saturday. It seemed we were only going to be friends.
Friday’s football game was away at Atherton Prep, and everyone was on edge. Atherton had a strong program. They’d be our toughest competition until playoffs, and nobody was willing to come home with a loss. Not even the cheerleaders.
The football team and cheerleaders had to share the bus, which made for tight quarters. After the guys piled on, I followed Stacie and Mia up the stairs. There were very few seats left. Stacie slid into the first one, and Mia took the spot next to her. My heart broke a little. She hadn’t sat next to me at lunch this week, either.
I took the seat behind them and the rest of the team filled in around us, leaving only the space across from Stacie and Mia open. I’d pulled out my phone to play a game of solitaire when Sean thudded down next to me. “Can I sit here?”
“No.” Stacie answered loudly, without turning around to face him.
Sean grinned and said under his breath, “That’s Stacie speak for yes. So, can I?”
“Will you move if I say no?”
“What do you think?” He shoved his bag under the seat and made himself comfortable.
Grandpa was the last to get on. The other coaches had grabbed a spot in the back, but Grandpa always rode in the front. He stopped at the top of the steps and bellowed, “You gentlemen should be spending this time in mental preparation. Tonight’s game will be tough.” He scanned the bus row by row until his eyes fell on me. He jerked his chin in acknowledgement, then sat across the aisle from Stacie and pulled out his playbook.
Mia turned around in her seat and whispered, “I think the head nod was code for, I love you, Nick. Good luck in your performance. I know you’ll be great.”
I snickered. “Thanks for interpreting. I would have guessed it meant something entirely different.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “He nodded, though, and that’s better than nothing.”
The bus rumbled to life and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. Grandpa wasn’t joking when he said the guys should be preparing mentally. He also wasn’t dumb. He knew nobody was doing it. But there was an unspoken agreement; if we were relatively quiet, he wouldn’t get on anyone’s case. Lucky for Stacie, Atherton was only twenty minutes away; since Sean couldn’t talk, he spent the ride tugging on her ponytail and trying to pin it on me.
At home games, cheerleaders faced the crowd. At away games, we usually faced the field and stood where the players could hear us. We also moved out from behind the bench so we could see the game. I had a pang of regret when it started. Part of me missed football. The other part of me watched Sean, bored on the sideline, and was grateful to be on a team where I was a valued member.
Ten minutes in, we got our first touchdown. But we needed the two-point conversion because Atherton already had eight points. Our guys squatted into the ready position, and the center snapped the ball straight to Cole’s hands. Cole dropped into the pocket, waiting for Jackson to take the handoff. Somehow, one of Atherton’s guys slipped through our line. Grandpa started shouting, but nobody could hear him. The guy blew between our center and guard before bashing Cole to the ground.
Atherton’s crowd went wild. The team jumped on the guy who made the tackle, slapping his helmet and smacking his butt in congratulations. Our team cringed as Grandpa went ballistic on the offensive line. But the commotion turned from cheers to whispers when everyone realized that Cole wasn’t getting up.
“What’s wrong?” Mia asked me, her voice fearful. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled.
Grandpa rushed the field, along with the other coaches and our athletic trainer. All the players took a knee. It looked like the trainer was speaking to Cole, but when he still didn’t get up, the paramedics ran onto the field with a stretcher. “Nick.” Mia latched onto my hand, gripping so tight she was cutting off my circulation. “Please tell me he’s okay.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I said in a soothing voice, hoping I hadn’t lied to her. The fact that Cole wasn’t walking off the field was a bad sign. Her eyes filled with tears. We waited silently while the paramedics stabilized his neck and head, then strapped Cole to the board.
Cole’s parents sprinted down from the bleachers and were waiting at the end of the field. His mother looked petrified, his father worked into a frantic tizzy. Suddenly, Cole raised his arm and waved at the team, signaling that he was alive and not paralyzed—at least not all the way.
There was a collective gasp from the crowd before they applauded, and all the players stood. Grandpa called a timeout, and our team hurried to the sideline to regroup. The color finally returned to Mia’s cheeks, and she swiped at her eyes. “That was the longest minute of my life.” She let out a heavy breath.
“Can I have my hand back?” I teased. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
She looked down and chuckled as she dropped it. “Sorry.”
“My hand is available whenever you want it. Just don’t squeeze so hard next time.”
She shook her head. “I was so scared for him. I hope it’s nothing bad. I might not like Cole anymore, but I do care about him as a person.”
When I watched her initial reaction, I worried that she still had feelings for Cole. Now I felt guilty and selfish for being relieved that she didn’t. “I don’t particularly care for Anderson, but even I’ll feel horrible if he’s seriously injured.”
Grandpa and the other coaches were scrambling anxiously. That’s when it dawned on me that Cole was gone. Like officially out of commission for at least the rest of the game, if not longer. This was bad. Very, very bad. Stacie said something first. She looked at me and asked, “Who’s going to replace Cole if you’re here?”
“I’m not sure. As of two weeks ago, I was the only backup. But it didn’t matter if the bench was deep at QB before I quit. Everyone knew Anderson would never get benched. I’m pretty sure nobody even considered that he might get hurt. The whole athletic department practically reveres him as a god, completely indestructible.”
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Just then, a boy came trotting up the side of the field, carrying his helmet in one hand and a water bottle in the other. I had no idea where he appeared from. He was little, for a varsity player. I looked closer and realized that he seemed small because he wasn’t a varsity player. He was a JV player, and a freshman to boot. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I gasped.
“What?” Stacie and Mia asked at the same time.
I put my head in my hand and shook it. “We are so screwed.”
I didn’t want to play on the team, but that didn’t mean I wanted the team to suck. My friends were out there. They had a chance at a state championship with Cole. They’d never get there if Preston Murphy was in the driver’s seat. I pointed to the sideline where Preston was pounding his helmet on his head. Grandpa was trying to give him a pep talk, but the guy looked scared out of his mind.
“See that little tiny kid right there? Number seven? That’s Preston Murphy.”
“Is he any good?” Mia asked.
“He’s a freshman,” I replied.
“Oh, great!” Stacie huffed and threw her arms in the air.
Mia didn’t appear to appreciate the gravity of the situation. “Good is relative,” I explained. “I watched him at tryouts. He’s got a lot of raw talent, but he’s skittish and lacking in confidence. Not to mention that he doesn’t have enough experience to think on his feet or call an audible. So, yes, he’s good—for a freshman. But he’s definitely not ready for a varsity game. Especially against Atherton.”
Preston ran onto the field. “He looks like he’s going to pee himself,” Stacie said.
Mia replied, “Let’s hope he doesn’t.”
“This will definitely be interesting,” I mumbled. The ref blew the whistle.
The second quarter was painful to watch. No amount of cheering could save us now. Preston held his own, better than I expected. Unfortunately, that wasn’t saying much. He threw an interception that led to a touchdown. The conversion put Atherton up by eight. Right before the clock ran out, the defense sacked him in the end zone, earning a two-point safety. When Roosevelt went inside for halftime, Atherton had a ten-point lead. I could see the veins throbbing in Grandpa’s forehead.
One of the Girls (Friendzone #1) Page 17