One of the Girls (Friendzone #1)

by Robin Daniels

  His words felt laden with a deeper question, and he searched my face for the answer. I desperately hoped this conversation had nothing to do with cheer or football and everything to do with us. Shaking my head, I whispered, “I want you to stay.”

  All the noise around us faded into the background. I heard my chest pounding in my ears, the shallow breaths leaving my mouth. I felt raw and vulnerable, wondering if he understood what I was telling him, because I couldn’t bring myself to say the actual words. When Nick didn’t respond right away, I started to worry that I’d made a huge mistake.

  But then he took my hand, lacing our fingers together. My stomach fluttered with a thousand butterflies. I was afraid to move for fear he’d let go. “Whatever happens, just know I’d rather be with you,” he said.

  My heart soared to the moon as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across my knuckles. We’d held hands before, but this time was different—it felt like a declaration. Fireworks exploded in my chest. I no longer had a crush on Nick Moody. I’d completely fallen for him.

  Chapter 21

  “Nick? Are you awake?” My mom knocked on my door before poking her head in.

  “I am now,” I grumbled. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I checked the clock on my nightstand. “It’s six-thirty. I don’t work until eight. Go away.” I turned on my side and pulled my covers up to my chin.

  She walked in and sat on the edge of my bed. “Your grandfather called. He wants to talk to you. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes to take you to breakfast. He said he’d drop you off at work when you guys are done.”

  I sat up. “What does he want to talk about? Because if he’s going to get mad at me again, I’m not going.”

  “He’s not going to get mad at you,” Mom said with exasperation, shaking her head. “At least, I don’t think he will. I’m guessing he’s going to ask you to come back to the football team.”

  I scrubbed my hands down my face, then ran them through my hair. “Please don’t make me go. I’m sticking with cheer, and when I tell him that he’ll hate me forever.”

  She sighed and patted my leg. “You have to go. But I fully support whatever you decide to do. If he so much as frowns at you, he’ll have to deal with me.” Mom gave me her angry face to prove she was serious, but it only made me laugh. She smiled and shrugged. “You never know. Maybe he’s going to say sorry for being a jerk.”

  “Ha! If that happens, I’ll tie pom-poms to my shoes and wear my cheer uniform to Homecoming.”

  She grinned. “That’d be a great picture. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for an apology.”

  Mom left, and I hustled to the bathroom. In less than ten minutes, I’d showered, brushed my teeth, styled my hair, and thrown on some track pants. I was digging through the clean laundry on the floor by my closet when the bell rang. I heard Dad open the door and let Grandpa in. “Nick!” he yelled down the hall.

  “Coming!” I hollered back. I found my work shirt at the bottom of the pile. It was slightly rumpled, but I wasn’t trying to look good. Who did I need to impress? Not all the kindergartners I’d be teaching later, and certainly not my grandfather. I spritzed some cologne before grabbing my wallet and phone and heading to the foyer.

  “You ready?” Grandpa asked.

  “Yep.”

  I followed him outside, and Mom called, “Have fun. See you at work.”

  I hopped into the passenger side of Grandpa’s truck. After pulling away, he fiddled with the radio until he found a news talk station. He spoke without looking at me. “Is IHOP okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I figured it’s the closest.”

  “Wherever you want to go.”

  Grandpa was quiet until we walked in the door at the restaurant. It hadn’t exactly been an uncomfortable ride, but it wasn’t warm and friendly, either. We stepped up to the hostess stand, and a petite blonde greeted us. “How many?” she asked.

  “Two, please,” Grandpa replied.

  She led us to a booth halfway down the first aisle and placed a couple of menus on the table. I slid in facing the door, and Grandpa sat across from me. “Get whatever you want,” he said, picking up his menu and holding it in front of his face.

  Our server came by with water and introduced himself. “I’m Beau, and I’ll be helping you today.” His spiky hair, forearm tattoo, and eyebrow ring didn’t match his perky voice. “Can I start you off with a cup of coffee?”

  “I think we’re ready to order,” Grandpa told him. I wasn’t ready, but he didn’t bother to ask me.

  “Sure thing.” Beau pulled out a notepad and a pen.

  “I’ll take a cup of coffee and the country scramble.” Grandpa closed his menu and set it on the edge of the table.

  Beau turned to me. “I think I’ll have the Belgian waffle combo with scrambled eggs and half bacon, half sausage.”

  “Would you like something to drink besides water?”

  I flipped the menu over and looked at the selection. “Yeah, I’ll take a Dr Pepper.”

  “Very good,” Beau replied, pulling the menu from my hand and picking up the one Grandpa set down. “I’ll be right back.”

  “That carbonated stuff will ruin your kidneys,” Grandpa warned.

  “I’ll take my chances. It’s early, and I need some caffeine. Coffee’s disgusting.”

  “Humph,” he grunted, folding his arms over his chest. Beau returned with our drinks and dropped a straw on the table, then scurried away. Grandpa dumped a little cup of cream in his mug, along with two packets of sugar, and blew on it. He didn’t strike up a conversation, and I wasn’t about to ask what he wanted. So, we sat in silence, sipping on our drinks.

  After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “You played good last night, Nick. Really saved us out there.”

  “Thanks.” I knew he had more to say than complimenting my game, and I wished he’d just spit it out.

  “I went over to the hospital afterward. Turns out Cole only has a minor concussion. But he has to sit for a minimum of three weeks, which means he’ll miss two games. Possibly more.”

  “At least it’s not serious,” I offered.

  Grandpa grimaced. His eyebrows pulled together, and the wrinkles on his forehead doubled. Mom was right. He wanted me to keep playing. But his expression said he didn’t want to suck it up and ask. Well, I wouldn’t make things easy on him just because he bought me breakfast. He’d have to humble himself and say it—nicely.

  “Everyone wants you to stay on as quarterback. I can promise you’ll start for the next three games and play all of the first two.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “And after that?”

  “Depends on how Cole feels.”

  Anger bubbled inside me. It probably wasn’t wise, but my tone became sharp. “You want me to give up something I like, something I’m good at, and a team that appreciates me for a promise of two games?”

  Grandpa stayed surprisingly calm, though he gripped the edge of the table in front of him with both hands until his knuckles turned white. “It’s all I can guarantee.”

  I clenched my cup. “You can see why that offer isn’t very enticing, right?” I took multiple gulps of soda, hoping to cool myself from the inside out.

  He sighed and slammed his fists on the table. It wasn’t hard, but his mug still rattled. “You know how I run my program. The best players play. If you’re the best, you’ll go in. If you’re not, you won’t. I have no idea how this injury will affect Cole’s game. But I’m not going to promise you a starting position just because you’re family and I’m desperate.”

  My voice got pitchy. “Well, that wasn’t insulting. I’m glad you only want me because you’re desperate. And by the way, I never expected any favors.”

  He sighed. “Come on, Nick. You know I didn’t mean it like that. Cut me a little slack. I’m in a hard position here.”

  “Yeah, well, I am too.” I dropped my head in my hands and stared at my napkin. I wanted to yell at him, to unload all my f
eelings of rejection, to tell him how bad it hurt that I was only ever second best. But none of that would help. He’d only look down on me for being emotional.

  Beau appeared with our food. “Do you need anything else?” he asked hesitantly, realizing that he’d intruded on a sensitive conversation.

  Grandpa forced a smile. “No, I think we’re good. Thanks.”

  “Just flag me down if you change your mind,” he replied and disappeared quickly.

  “What do you want from me?” Grandpa asked. I laid my hands on the table and looked up at him. Then I took a deep breath and let it all out.

  “I want you to support me, no matter what I do. I want you to acknowledge that I’m good at gymnastics. Not just okay, but really good. I want you to stop judging me for doing something you feel isn’t masculine enough and have the decency to watch when I perform. Most of all, I want you to be proud of me, whether it’s playing football or cheering at the games. All I’ve ever wanted is your approval. It hurts my feelings that I can’t seem to earn it, no matter what I do.”

  I’d stunned him into submission. He stared at me, blinking but not talking. Seconds passed, and then a minute. I began to think that maybe he was having a stroke, that I’d totally broken him. Eventually, he picked up his silverware and cut into his food. When he took a bite, I gave up on getting a response and buttered my waffle.

  Another few minutes passed before he said, “I am proud of you. I’ve never intended to make you think otherwise. And even if it’s not something I’d choose to do, I know that you’re talented with all that gymnastics stuff. I’ve been disappointed because it frustrates me to see you give up on something you’ve spent your whole life working toward.”

  I swallowed my food and chased it with another drink. “Well, it frustrates me to have worked my whole life on something I’ll never achieve.” A look crossed his face, like he was finally starting to understand how I felt. “I’ll never be as good at football as you and Dad hoped I’d be. The fact that my own grandfather has benched me for the last four years proves it. I played because it’s what you guys wanted me to do. And I like doing it. But I love gymnastics, and I joined the cheer team because it’s what I wanted to do.”

  Grandpa nodded his head and continued to eat. But now that the air had been cleared, the mood was lighter, and the silence more amiable. “I’m sorry, Nick. For getting angry and for making you feel like I don’t care.” It was short and simple, but it was the first time I’d ever heard the stubborn old man apologize to anyone. Good thing Mom wasn’t here. I had no intention of wearing my uniform to Homecoming.

  “I’m sorry for bailing on the team, but there was no way of knowing Cole would get hurt.” I stabbed at my last piece of food and swirled it around in the syrup. “Truth be told, I had a lot of fun last night, and I’m glad you asked me to step in.”

  Grandpa smirked. “Truth be told, I was scared you’d say no.” I smiled, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could finally stop stressing over the rift I’d created in our family.

  The bell on the door rang, and a couple walked in. At the same time, Beau returned to clear our table and drop the check. I piled my silverware and napkin on my plate, then handed it to him. “Just the two of us,” a familiar female voice drifted from the hostess stand. “I’d prefer a booth, if you have it.”

  My head drew up. I froze. The familiar voice was Mia’s, and standing next to her was Ross Grantham. A hundred emotions ran through me. Anger, jealousy, hurt, betrayal. It was no declaration of love, but we’d shared a moment last night. An intimate moment. One in which I thought I’d been clear that I liked her. And I thought she returned those feelings. Maybe holding hands isn’t a big deal to some people, but for me it’s almost as meaningful as kissing.

  My eyes followed them to their table. Ross walked slightly behind her with his hand on the small of her back. I wanted to punch him for touching her. Except she didn’t look too bothered by it. She was smiling when she took a seat facing me. Their table was closer to the door than ours, so she hadn’t noticed us. But we’d have to walk past her when we left, so there was no hiding.

  Why was Mia here with him? Were they on a date? She’d made it seem like she was respecting Stacie’s ban on dating. And I thought she despised Ross. I refused to believe that I’d misinterpreted what happened between us on the bus last night. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what I was seeing. Part of me wanted to march over and demand one. The other part of me wanted to walk past and completely ignore her. But neither option was very classy, and I really had no right, because technically she wasn’t mine.

  Beau came back with Grandpa’s credit card, and he looked at his watch before signing the receipt. “It’s a quarter to eight. I should probably get you to work before your mom kills me.” He chuckled. “I haven’t exactly been in her good graces lately.”

  It took me a second to register what he’d said. My mind was a little preoccupied at the moment. “She’ll forgive you,” I replied.

  We both stood, but Grandpa didn’t move. “Will you at least think about coming back to the team?”

  I guess I owed him that much. I sighed. “Yes.”

  “Thanks.” He turned around toward the door, and I trailed behind him. As we approached Mia, I figured a simple greeting would be best. “Good morning, Ross, Mia.” I gave her a curt head nod and continued walking.

  Her eyes grew wide, and she turned white as a ghost. “Nick!” she sputtered guiltily, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Hey, Moody.” Ross gave me a smug head jerk. He could tell I was irritated, and he was all kinds of happy about it.

  “Wait,” Mia called after me.

  “Can’t.” I turned around and walked backward so I was facing her. “I’ll be late for work. See you later.” I tried to sound casual, as if my feelings weren’t crushed to see her with someone else. But I didn’t want Ross to know that, so I held my chin high as I pushed the door open. The last thing I saw was Mia frowning at me.

  I was totally distracted at work. I couldn’t stop obsessing over why Mia had been out with another guy. I barely got through my first lesson. Luckily, they were kindergartners, so I doubt they noticed. My second group was comprised of eight to ten-year-olds, which meant I had to pay attention. Focusing on something else helped. But when I checked my phone right before ten, I saw a missed call and a text.

  Mia: Please call me. It’s not what it looked like.

  That sent me straight back to obsessing. I was tempted to hit the phone icon next to her name, but my mini-star session started in three minutes, and there wasn’t enough time. I texted her back instead.

  Nick: You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s not any of my business.

  Maybe it was harsh, but it was the best I could do.

  Toward the end of my class, I glanced up at the balcony and noticed Mia sitting there, watching me. She was wringing her hands and nervously tapping her foot. When our eyes met, she gave me a tiny wave. Her countenance was sad and full of regret. I nodded at her before looking away. I’d hoped she would come, but now that she was here, I had no idea what to say.

  The next five minutes felt like fifty. I finally ended the lesson and walked the little tykes upstairs. Mia waited patiently until the last one was gone, then made her way over to me. She stopped a couple feet short. “It wasn’t a date, and I made sure Ross knew that.”

  I sighed. “You can go out with whomever you want. Like I said, it’s not my business.”

  “But I want it to be.” Her voice trembled. Her eyes glossed over, and her bottom lip stuck out. When it started quivering, she bit down to keep it still.

  I wasn’t completely sure what she meant by that, and I couldn’t take it anymore. It was time to lay all my cards on the table. I hoped she wanted to be with me. But if she didn’t, I’d accept defeat and go back to the football team. Either way, I had to put myself out there, because not knowing was worse than rejection.


  Chapter 22

  Nick grabbed me by the hand, practically dragging me down the stairs and into the office. He closed the door behind us and locked it, then turned around to face me.

  “So, you don’t like Ross?” he asked.

  I gasped. “No! Gross!”

  His eyes darted back and forth, searching my face. I was about to explain why I’d been at the restaurant in the first place, but Nick stepped close and placed his hands on my cheeks. Before I knew what was happening, he pressed his lips to mine. It was soft and gentle and over way too quickly. I’d barely had time to react.

  When he backed away, my eyes slowly drifted open. Shocked, I reached up and ran my fingers across my tingling lips. He gave me a questioning look. It was then that I realized I hadn’t exactly kissed him back. And I absolutely did not want him to think I hadn’t enjoyed it. I grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him against me, and laced my hands behind his neck. Then I kissed him like I’d been wanting to since last Saturday.

  Nick responded eagerly. His arms wrapped around my waist as the kiss grew heated, unleashing weeks of pent-up emotions. He walked me backward until I bumped into the desk. My knees were weak, so I sat on top of it and let my feet dangle. He stood between my legs and leaned into me. Having Nick’s lips on mine was the most extraordinary sensation I’d ever felt. Never once had a kiss ignited so much passion while making me feel special and adored.

  Someone knocked on the door, and we jumped apart. “Anyone in here?” a woman asked.

  “Yeah, Mom, it’s me. I’m on the phone. Be out in a minute.” Nick grinned and I giggled.

  He sucked in a deep breath and propped his hands on either side of me, resting his forehead against mine. “I’ve been waiting four years to do that,” he said.

  “What?” I pulled back. “No, you haven’t.”

  “I swear it’s the truth. I’ve liked you from afar since freshman year.”