“Ms. Brooks,” the art teacher called out my name as I was heading out.
Everyone in the class turned to look at me.
“A word before you leave, if you please.”
I nodded, weaving my way through the tables and past the students who were hurrying out the door. I ducked my head to avoid the looks of Leroy and his girlfriend. Seriously, what was the deal with Tristan and his friends? If they were going to pull some sort of Carrie prank, I wished they’d just get it over with already. The waiting and wondering was going to kill me.
Or make me throw up.
Either way, I’d be on edge until the bucket of blood dropped…so to speak.
“You wanted to see me?” I said when I reached Mrs. Green’s desk.
The older woman looked up at me with a smile I was starting to recognize. I’d only known her two days but I knew a kindred spirit when I met one. This lady? She would be my friend. Not only that, she seemed to really like my artwork, and I wasn’t embarrassed to admit that I’d ended up spending most of my free period here with her the day before as she pored over my sketches and pictures of my paintings.
She was a fellow art geek and that transcended the age difference. I liked to think she got me. “I was wondering if you might like to get involved with a group art project I’m spearheading,” she said.
“Oh. Um…” Nope. I’d been wrong. She clearly did not get me if she thought I wanted any part of any group project. I wasn’t a joiner—never had been never would be. Lone wolf, that was me.
“It would be for extra credit,” she said.
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as I tried to think of a way to say thanks, but no thanks. My grades were exceptional. I didn’t need extra credit.
“It would look great on your college applications,” she added, humor making her dark eyes dance.
College applications. Now that gave me pause.
She arched her brows. “Plus, if you lead the project, like I hope you will—I’d likely have to pull you out of a class now and again. Maybe…Phys Ed?”
Sold! “I’d definitely be interested,” I said.
“I thought you might,” she murmured, her voice tinged with laughter.
“What’s the project?”
“A mural.”
Ooh, murals were good.
“On the outside wall facing the football field,” she added.
I frowned. Football?
“It’s to celebrate our athletes.” She hurried on before I could protest. “You’ll have complete artistic control, barring anything offensive, of course. The idea would be to celebrate school pride and the athletes who make this school proud.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
“Um…”
“You’ll get out of PE,” she said again, her voice firm.
I sighed. She had me there and she knew it. She flashed me a wide grin. “So glad to have you on board. We’ll go over the details in class tomorrow.”
I nodded. Great. Just great. I was now the patron artist of the athletes. My job was to paint a mural to pay homage to their greatness.
Oh man. What had I just agreed to? I had my head down as I headed out of the classroom, so I didn’t see him. But I heard him.
“Hey, Harley.”
I jumped and yes…I squeaked. Then I whipped around to see Tristan giving me that warm look, the one where he wasn’t quite smiling but his eyes were crinkled up in amusement and…something else.
Something that made me feel hot all over. And today I wasn’t even wearing a wool sweater.
“What are you doing here?” I looked left and right but the hallway was deserted, though we could hear the sound of squeaking linoleum and locker doors closing in the distance as the student body made their mass exodus.
But this was a dead-end hallway with no lockers and… “What are you doing here?”
I didn’t really mean to ask it twice, but anxiety got the best of me.
Do not puke. You will not puke on Tristan O’Hare’s shoes.
“I was waiting for you.” Man, why did his voice have to so be low and rumbly?
And why was I so nervous? I backed away a couple of feet and he didn’t try to follow.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.” That would have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t come out all strangled and high-pitched. Also, if I hadn’t been scurrying backwards like a frightened freak.
I forced myself to stop. “What, uh…what did you need?”
The corner of his mouth ticked up and my heart melted in my chest. How did he do that? “I don’t really need anything,” he said slowly, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you.”
“Me?” Yeah. I really said that. Because apparently hot giants make my brain go to mush.
“Yeah you,” he said.
He sounded just like Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles. Just like him! So much so that I fought the urge to swoon. My inner tween was dying. I’d watched that movie more times than I could count and with those two little words, Tristan O’Hare had just triggered my all-time favorite romantic fantasy.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
No. Nope. Definitely not. I was in serious danger of hyperventilating.
He shifted so he was facing me. “If I promise to keep my distance, can I walk you to your car?”
“I don’t have a car.”
Dumb. Wrong answer.
“Your bus?”
“My…Conner is giving me a ride home.”
His eyes narrowed a bit with a flinch and I knew just how awkward I’d sounded. It was just that I hadn’t gotten used to the word brother yet. Not even when it was preceded by ‘step.’
“Your Conner?” he repeated.
“My, uh…my stepbrother.” There. I’d managed to get the clunky, weighted word out of my mouth. I didn’t think I was imagining the fact that Tristan’s shoulders slumped a bit like he was… He couldn’t have been relieved, could he? I mean, that would have implied that he’d been jealous or something, which was just stupid.
“Can I walk you out to the parking lot then?” he asked.
“Um…” I looked behind him like someone might come running around the corner to save me. “Don’t you have practice or something?”
He nodded. “But I have a little time before I have to head to the lockers.”
Silence filled the space between us as my mind raced to figure this out. But it was like Tristan O’Hare was one large, sexy, unreadable puzzle. My brain kept trying to categorize him, shelve him, stick him in a peg…and he wouldn’t budge. He just stood there staring at me until I realized that too much time had passed. “Why do you want to walk me?”
His lips twitched again. “Why do you sound so wary of me?”
Why? Why? Where to begin? I crossed my arms. “What do you want from me?”
“Conversation.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” He didn’t try to hide his amusement and the warmth in his gaze nearly made me lose my balance.
“I mean, why me? Why are you paying attention to me?”
“Because you’re intriguing. Why don’t you want to walk with me?”
I blinked once. Twice. My mind turned the word over and over as I tried to figure out what he meant by that. “Intriguing,” I repeated. “Is that an insult?”
His brows drew together in confusion. “No. Now I have a question.”
It was my turn to look confused. “What is it?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
I widened my eyes in surprise and then, to my utter shock, I felt a laugh bubbling up at the unexpected remark.
“Maybe?” I said.
He smiled.
I smiled.
We…we smiled at each other.
We just stood there…smiling.
It was weird.
And nic
e.
No, nice wasn’t the right word for it. Whatever this was, nice so did not cut it. This was warmth and sweetness and a feeling of belonging and a million other cozy, comfy, inexplicably lovely sensations that were totally unwarranted responses to a simple smile.
“Go out with me.”
I jerked my head back. The moment was over. “What?”
“Go to homecoming with me.”
“Homecoming?” I repeated the word louder and in a way higher pitch.
He winced and ran a hand through his short blond hair. “Sorry, that…came out wrong.”
I arched my brows. “How was it supposed to come out?”
“Like a question,” he said. “A request, not a command.”
I fought another smile, another laugh threatening to escape at the sincerity and ruefulness in his gaze. Was it possible? I found myself wondering. Was it possible that Janice was right and this guy was actually nice?
“Look, I didn’t mean to rush things,” he said. “Let’s start with me walking you to your stepbrother’s car.”
“Start what?” I asked.
His mouth twitched slightly and he was very definitely amused again. “Let’s take a walk and find out.”
6
Tristan
I was the first to admit I didn’t date much, but that was no excuse for my complete and utter lack of game. It wasn’t like I’d never talked to a girl before, and yet talking to Harley, it honestly felt like the first time I’d ever tried to put words together.
I was making a mess of this.
Homecoming? Seriously? That was weeks away, and it wasn’t like I was worried about getting a date. I’d just assumed I’d go with whichever one of Erika’s friends still needed a date at the last minute. But standing there in the hallway, my brain had gone totally insane. I’d suddenly skipped ahead from wanting to ask her for a walk, to wanting to ask her out, to ensuring that I’d get to hold her in my arms and have her at my side at the big dance.
I blamed Danny and his idiotic friends for putting the idea into my head.
I was now getting ideas from Danny. I’d officially lost it.
We stared at each other for way too long. Words were never really my friends, but I’d never been this bad at communicating before. I had to force my lips together to keep from saying something else and scaring her off even more.
She was like a spooked colt, all wide alarmed eyes and stumbling away from me every time I moved. So, I shoved my hands in my pockets and waited for her to make the next move.
“You just want to walk me to the parking lot,” she clarified.
“Correct.”
She looked past me like she was expecting an ambush. When it became clear that we were alone, she sighed. “All right.”
“That’s the spirit.”
She gave me an adorable little smile before apparently remembering that she was trying not to encourage me. Her smile fell fast as she bit her lower lip.
Annnd now I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. So, yeah...that probably wasn’t helping my cause. The best way to creep a girl out? Stare at her lips. Even I knew that.
“Shall we?” I nodded toward the hallway, and she started to walk in silence. I fell into step beside her, shortening my strides to match her stride. “Can I carry your bag?”
She squinted up at me. “What’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you always like the hero from a fifties movie, or is this just for my benefit?”
I laughed as I reached for her bag, oddly happy that she let me take it from her. “My grandfather raised me to be a gentleman,” I said. What I didn’t say was, those lessons only seemed to come out when she was around. Something about her made me want to take care of her and make her smile.
“Your grandfather raised you?”
“My grandfather and my mom,” I said. “My dad wasn’t in the picture.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
She nodded and stared straight ahead. “My mom died when I was eight.”
I stopped walking to look at her but when she kept going I hurried to catch up. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
I didn’t know what to say but I felt like her honesty warranted the same. “My dad took off before I was born.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, peeking up at me.
“I’m not.”
She stopped and tilted her head back. “Really?”
I nodded, because this was a topic I’d given a lot of thought. “Really.”
She made a hmmph sound that was oddly cute before walking again. “You know…this is kind of a weird conversation to be having considering we barely know each other and all.”
We’d hit a hallway that had a few stragglers left and I had to force down a huge grin because I’d been thinking the same thing, but I’d been thinking how much I loved it. Her bluntness, her honesty, her ability to cut right to the heart of the matter and not worry about how it looked or sounded. “Maybe that’s why I wanted to get to know you,” I said.
She was biting her lip when she looked up at me but I suspected it was to keep from grinning. “Because you had a hunch I’d be a weird conversationalist?”
“Because I got the feeling you’d talk about things that matter.”
She stopped. I stopped. We stood there in the hallway considering each other…or at least, she was studying me, I was just enjoying the view. She was so stinkin’ cute. Like a little doll I wanted to keep in my pocket.
Finally, she said, “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
My heart soared. I mean, not to sound too lame or poetic or whatever, but…I’m pretty sure it soared. Her comment made me feel like the king of the world. It was like scoring a touchdown times a million. “So, about homecoming,” I said slowly. “I rushed it.”
She looked up at me. “Yes.”
“Is that a yes to homecoming?”
“No.” Her little smile softened it a bit. “I was just agreeing with you.”
“Walk first,” I said, as we kept moving. “Then…coffee?” I shot her a sidelong look that she met evenly. Was that a good stare or bad? What else did people do on dates? “Maybe we could…go to a party?”
She stopped walking. “Now I know you’re kidding.”
“Party is a bad idea,” I said. “Got it.”
She looked from side to side. “Is this part of some prank?”
“Seriously? This again?”
She licked her lips. “I just feel like someone’s going to pop out with a video camera and shout ‘gotcha’ at any minute.”
“Is it so crazy that I might be interested in getting to know you?”
“Yes.” She met my gaze evenly. “It is totally crazy.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m me and you’re…” She waved a hand. “Thor.”
I blinked and then I couldn’t help it…a laugh burst out. “I’m Thor?”
“You’re very close,” she said, so serious it was impossible not to laugh.
“You’re nuts,” I said.
One side of her mouth tipped up. “My point exactly.” She gestured between us. “This? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You say that like you know me,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes and studied me and I could have sworn…for a second there I felt like she did know me. Like she saw me. She saw the guy, not just the star quarterback. My mouth went dry as I awaited her verdict. “Is this a bet or something? Like, get the new girl to say yes to homecoming and then laugh when she falls for it?”
I shook my head, my mouth gaping open for a second in shock. “Why on earth would you even think something like that?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s happened before.”
I stopped in my tracks, turning so quickly she bumped into me and ricocheted back before I caught her by her upper arms and steadied her. “It happened to you? You’re not serious.”
“Deadly serious.” Her expression was deadly serious, too.
“Someone asked you to a dance as a joke?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” I think we both realized at the same time what a dumb question that was. It was obviously someone from her old school, and no one I would know.
She shrugged. “The guy I had a crush on.”
Her expression gave away no emotions and yet my blood roared in my ears as rage took hold. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“So you can see why I might have my doubts,” she said. “About you, I mean. This all feels very familiar. I wasn’t the new girl back then, obviously, but someone did ask me to a dance as a joke.” Her mouth went flat. “Everyone had a good laugh.”
“Jeez, Harley, that’s…” I shook my head, at a loss for words. “That’s cruel.”
“Yeah, well, I’m used to it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You shouldn’t be.”
She stared right back at me. “So you swear on your football jersey that you’re not being nice to me to win a bet or something like that.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll swear on my grandmother’s grave.”
She blinked, studied me again, and then nodded. “Okay then.”
“Okay then.”
We stood there for too long because I was hesitant to break the moment. It felt like we’d formed some sort of truce. Some understanding. Some…
“I do have to get home, though,” she said slowly, looking past me toward the exit. “And knowing Conner he won’t wait around for long.” She made a funny face. “Or…at all.”
“Not exactly close siblings?” I asked as we headed toward the door.
“No. And we’re not siblings, not really.”
“Okay.” I waited. From what I could tell this girl would open up if I did. I suspected that was part of the way to crack the code that was Harley. “I have one older brother,” I said. “But he’s a lot older and left the house when we were little so we were never close.”
“Where’d he go?”
“College for his undergrad in Colorado, then he moved to Ohio for med school and has been there ever since. He married, had kids.” I turned to her. “You’re looking at the proud uncle of three little nieces.”
Dating the Quarterback (The Bet Duet Book 2) Page 5