“What did you say?”
“No, obviously.”
“Why?” he asked.
I looked over because surely he was kidding.
“Why, Harley?” he asked again.
He…wasn’t kidding.
Either he was an idiot or just wanted to hear me spell it out. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Conner. I should never have opened my mouth. I stared straight ahead. “I don’t want to talk about Tristan.”
He mercifully dropped the topic and I thought maybe it was done for good.
I should have known better. When we got home we discovered that my dad and his mom had come up with an epically bad idea.
Game night.
As a family.
Ugh. As if more enforced bonding time would help make our weird family situation any easier to bear.
Conner acted quickly, making up some excuse about how we’d promised all our “friends” that we’d go meet up with them after the football game tonight.
The fact that they bought this lie was a testament to Conner’s unflagging confidence. Like it or not, the guy knew how to sell a lie.
The only problem? I discovered as soon as we’d run away upstairs that…he hadn’t been lying. He honestly expected us to go. He was insisting on it, actually. And that’s when it clicked. Rosalie would be there. So, of course he wanted to go—this would be one more opportunity for him to get close to her. I didn’t know why I was disappointed in him, but I was. “You just want another chance to get into the ice queen’s pants,” I said with an exasperated sigh.
“Hey,” he said. “The bet was your idea.”
Oh sure, he had to point that out. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be so persistent.” I crossed her arms. “Honestly, I thought you’d have given up the moment you realized she wasn’t easy.”
Was it the nicest thing to say? No. But it was true. When I’d issued the challenge I’d thought he’d make a move, get shot down, hopefully learn a lesson in humility, and move on to someone else.
“Yeah well, maybe I actually like Rosalie.”
The funny thing was—he looked serious. Wait, he couldn’t actually… I mean, he didn’t really… “Do you?”
He frowned. “She’s not the wicked witch everyone makes her out to be.”
I still didn’t quite believe him. I mean, she was hot, I’d give her that. But she was so not the type of girl he’d gone for back at our old school. “You really like her, huh?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You like her so much you’re going to ask her out just to win some stupid bet?”
“It’s not exactly a bet,” he said. “Just a…challenge.”
Yeah, I’d had a similar thought but hearing him say it made me realize how lame that justification really was. “Oh yeah, that makes it way better.”
Guilt made my tone sharper than intended.
“Hey,” he said. “Need I remind you again that this was—”
“My idea,” I finished. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I just didn’t realize you’d take it so seriously. I mean, I knew you liked being popular but I didn’t think you cared that much.”
He folded my arms over my chest. “Oh suddenly you’re above it all, Miss-I’m-so-scared-I-won’t-fit-in?”
My head jerked back at his mocking tone. “I didn’t care if I fit in, I just—”
“Uh huh.”
“I just—”
“Admit it, Harley, you were jealous of me back at our old school.”
I gasped with outrage. “I was not!”
“You were,” he said, his tone so smug I wanted to smack him. “And now you’re just bitter that I’m going to be popular again while you’re stuck sitting on the sidelines…again.”
I hated how much his words hurt. I hated that he saw me like that—that everyone saw me like that. But most of all…I hated that he was right. Maybe some of my dislike of Conner was fueled by envy, and admitting that to myself made me want to puke.
It wasn’t like I wanted to be popular now—but once upon a time I had. Everyone wanted to be liked, it was human nature. And for some people it came so easily. That’s what I was jealous of—the way everything came to him so freakin’ easily. He never had to work for it. He never suffered through bullies and whispers. He just glided through life while people like me threw up before the first day of school because they knew just how awful high school could be.
We stood there staring at each other in silence, and then his expression softened with regret. “Look, Harley—”
“No,” I snapped. “Don’t apologize. We’re family now, right? We can tell each other the truth, right?”
He looked wary. “I guess.”
Bitterness had my hands shaking, an old anger rising up in me like it had just been waiting for this day. “Fine, then let me spell it out for you,” I said. “I wasn’t jealous of you, Conner Stone. I was sickened by you.”
I wasn’t jealous of Conner now, not the way he thought—he could have all the cheerleaders and pep rallies he wanted. I just hated how he got it—through nothing but good looks and charm, which were worth nothing. He was the epitome of shallow, and that disgusted me.
He’d jerked back with my words, obviously hurt but I was too angry to care. “You have no idea how miserable school was for the rest of us. You and the other popular kids lived this perfect, easy life, dating and going to dances and having fun and goofing off in class. Meanwhile, you know what I was doing?”
He didn’t answer.
I moved in closer. “So yeah, do I like the fact that Danny and his friends are calling you a homeless drug dealer?”
“They’re calling me what?”
“I love it,” I said. “But more than anything I love watching you make a fool over yourself with a girl who couldn’t care less about you.”
Even I could hear the bitterness in my voice, but I was past caring.
His expression grew weird—suspicious and wary. “Wait a second, you never…I mean you never had a thing for me, did you?”
My mouth fell open and I didn’t whether I should laugh or scream. I ended up shouting, “Are you kidding me right now?”
“What?” he said, his tone all innocence. “It sounds like you’ve got some serious resentment issues and—”
“It wasn’t you!” It was someone just like him. The jock equivalent of Conner back in junior high. Just the thought of me liking Conner. Gross! I smacked his arm, beyond disgusted by what he was implying. “Ew, you’re my stepbrother.”
“So?” he said. “I wasn’t always.”
“No, before you were my stepbrother you were just some cocky moron who thought he was God’s gift,” I shot back.
“Fine,” he said, his voice tight, the only sign that he might be losing his temper too. “So it wasn’t me. Who was it?” His brows drew down and he lowered his voice. “Want me to kick his butt?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“Is this guy the reason you’re so…bitter?”
Oh, no he didn’t. He still didn’t get it. He wasn’t just shallow, he was obtuse. “You are the reason I’m bitter. Or, you know…people like you.”
His expression shifted so quickly it was hard to keep up. I thought I saw hurt, resignation…and then it was all covered up by that stupid cocky smirk. “We all have our gifts, Harley,” he said, his tone unbearably smug. “Mine just happens to be making people love me.”
I gave a huff of laughter. “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you at Talmore?”
“I’m making progress.”
I had to laugh at the sheer gall, at the ridiculous bravado.
“It’s only been a week,” he said.
“Yeah, and in that week, you’ve been mocked, dissed, and ignored.” I arched my brows. “How does it feel?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to because I knew exactly how it felt. I knew because I’d been there. It sucked.
“And what about you, Sis?” he folded his
arms as he regarded me. “You’ve been whining about how hard it is to be unpopular, but now you have a shot at being one of the beautiful people…and what do you do?” He looked at me expectantly before answering his own question. “You run and hide. You ignore the opportunities in front of you because it’s easier to stand back and judge everyone else for actually caring about their social lives.”
I had no response. I hated not having a comeback, but more than that I hated that his words were getting to me. Was he right? Was I being a coward because I was afraid of getting hurt again?
Was it cowardice or self-preservation?
Ugh, I hated that he was getting into my head. Who did he think he was to psychoanalyze me? He knew nothing about me.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep chasing the ice queen—Rosalie—” he said, correcting himself. “You can keep laughing at me and my unpopularity, but—” he jabbed a finger in my face. “If I get Rosalie to be my date for homecoming, you have to say yes to the quarterback.”
Shock had me reeling. “What?” My voice was way too high. “That’s…that’s…no.”
His expression and his tone were filled with challenge. “What, are you scared?”
“No,” I said automatically, because yes, yes I was totally scared, but there was no way I could admit that to Conner. Instead, I took a page from his playbook and faked confidence I didn’t feel. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”
He shrugged. “What? If I win, then we both go to homecoming, and if I lose—”
“If you lose, I get to use your car whenever I want,” I said. It was the first thing to come to mind, and it was so very fitting. That car was everything to him. It was also a symbol to me—a symbol of how easy he had it.
“You want my car?”
“What?” I said, feigning nonchalance. “You try feeling cool when you have to ride the bus like a middle schooler.”
“I’ve been giving you rides—”
“So I’m at your mercy,” I said. “Yeah, that’s way better.”
“Fine. If I lose, we share the car.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, that works.”
We stood there in silence for a minute. I didn’t know what was going on in Conner’s head but I was focusing on trying not to throw up.
What had I just gotten myself into?
Why did I let Conner get to me like this?
I just couldn’t back down. No, I could have. I should have.
But I hadn’t.
I told myself I had.
My dad’s voice came from the bottom of the steps. “Conner, if you don’t feel like cooking tonight, I can make some of my world-famous chili.”
Oh no. Not his chili. I looked up at Conner, and temporarily forgot about everything except for my growling stomach.
Conner seemed to understand. “That bad?”
“The worst.”
“I’ve got dinner covered, Frank,” he shouted back. “But thanks!” Then he turned to me. “We’re going to the diner…after I make us dinner.”
8
Harley
If I’d had any inkling earlier in the day that I’d actually end up at the diner where all the cool kids hung out…I would have invited Janice.
As it was, though, it was a shock to me that I was being railroaded into going.
But really, what other choice did I have? I mean, game night?
I might have been a loser and a geek and a million other terms, but even I didn’t want to stay home and play Monopoly with my new stepfamily on a Friday night. So instead, I found myself riding in the passenger seat as Conner drove us to the diner. To see Rosalie.
The thing was…I couldn’t tell anymore if he was just going after her because of this stupid bet, because his pride was at stake, or none of the above. I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he actually liked the girl.
He had a weird energy about him as we made our way to the diner, where there was a good chance he’d see Rosalie. There was an even better chance that I’d see Tristan. I knew from Janice that he wasn’t a big partier but that he did do the football team stuff, and that usually meant going to the diner after practices, and to parties after a game.
So tonight, he could very well be there. Hanging out with the popular crowd, beloved and intimidatingly hot.
I shifted uneasily in my seat as we grew close. We’d stopped talking a while ago, each of us lost in our thoughts.
I kind of wondered if he was stewing over the things we’d said to each other before we left. Guilt was an uncomfortable passenger in the car with us—at least, I felt a little guilty for the things I’d said. Maybe he did too.
Although…I snuck a peek in his direction but his expression was impossible to read.
Much as I might not have wanted to admit it, one thing he’d said stuck more than anything else he’d said. One phrase in particular—run and hide.
You run and hide. You ignore the opportunities in front of you because it’s easier to stand back and judge everyone else…
Was he right?
Maybe.
I fidgeted again and the anxious pit in my stomach grew a million times over as the fluorescent lights of the diner’s sign came into view.
I trailed along behind Conner, following him into the crowded restaurant that was teeming with our classmates. Football jerseys and cheerleader uniforms seemed to be at the center of it all and my eyes automatically sought him out.
Tristan. There he was, standing in a group of guys near the back, his arms folded across his chest and his gaze fixed on me.
“I’ll be right back,” Conner said.
I fidgeted with the end of one of my braids before shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt and keeping my head down.
I shouldn’t have done that. I really should have kept tabs on Conner. Instead, after a few minutes of trying to hide in plain sight by the candy dispenser at the front entrance, I was brought out of my own personal hell by the sound of raised voices.
Conner. No, he hadn’t raised his voice, but he was at the center of it all. That Danny guy, the one who’d bullied Janice. He was confronting Conner. And Conner, the irritating little jerk that he was…? He was standing there smirking like this was his plan all along.
Meanwhile…oh now that was interesting.
Rosalie was at his side. She was…sticking up for him, by the looks of it. I couldn’t hear everything they said but the context was clear as she tilted her chin up and faced off with her ex, her body partially in front of my stepbrother like she was trying to protect Conner.
Here was where it got really weird. I was happy. There was no other explanation for the jolt of joy that had me smiling as I watched Conner get his girl.
Well, it wasn’t a done deal yet, but the way he was looking at her, the way she was defending him…
I blame it on all the romance novels but I was getting all the feels.
Even though this likely meant I’d be losing the bet.
I froze at the thought, my smile fading.
That was the other part of our earlier conversation that had been sticking with me like a piece of candy stuck to my teeth—so sweet and appealing that it hurt.
If I lost the bet, I’d have to say yes to homecoming with Tristan.
Sweetness and pain, the conflicting emotions made my head spin. I wanted to go out on a date with him…and I didn’t.
But why didn’t I?
As I watched Rosalie drag Conner toward the exit, I thought I knew the answer. You run and hide.
He’d been right. Conner had been right. There was no way I’d ever tell him that to his face, but I couldn’t deny it to myself.
Maybe I did run, and maybe I did hide. These were things I never would have admitted or even thought about at my old school. There I didn’t have to do either because I was already out of the social picture. I was basically invisible.
But here, now…
Conner had been right.
Ugh. I w
ished I could stop that thought from reoccurring. It was my worst nightmare coming true. When on earth had Conner been right about anything?
But right now, standing here under the watchful gaze of quite possibly the hottest guy I had ever seen in real life, I couldn’t think of one good reason to keep running from him. To keep hiding.
I peeked over and felt a rush of heat course through my veins at the intensity in his eyes. It was unnerving. It was intoxicating.
It was…terrifying.
The old urge to run was back in full force. I might not have a good logical reason but I had a lifetime of memories that seemed like reason enough. But those memories had nothing to do with Tristan. They didn’t even have anything to do with this crowd of football players and cheerleaders.
My memories of being bullied and humiliated by Josh Tanner and his friends back at our old school were only a reflection on them. Maybe, just maybe, Tristan deserved to be viewed on his own merits. Maybe I shouldn’t blame him just because he was popular and athletic.
Maybe…
Maybe he was walking over to me.
“You look lost,” he said.
I fought a grin because that was just so like him, cutting through any small-talk and getting straight to the heart of the matter.
Not that I knew what was ‘so him’ but also…I kind of did. When had that happened?
“Not lost,” I said, tilting my chin up and hoping I didn’t look as small as I felt. But really, I’d never liked being in big groups like this, even when they were filled with people I liked. And this crowd? Well, as much as the girls were being nice to me, I didn’t trust them. And the only guy I actually knew was Tristan. The rest of them were eyeing me behind Tristan’s back, watching me with interest.
Everyone was watching me and I wasn’t sure it was because I’d come here with Conner or because Tristan was talking to me or because I was still the new girl.
Or maybe all of the above.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” he said.
I stared at him for a second, my heart pounding as some stupid part of my brain catalogued his strong jaw, the crinkled up eyes filled with amusement. Despite my best efforts to squash any attraction to this guy, some naïve idiotic part of me was taking mental snapshots for later. I knew without a doubt that I’d replay whatever words were exchanged here tonight, along with every look, every not-quite-a-smile, every actual smile. It would all be recorded and parsed and played back on a loop…
Dating the Quarterback (The Bet Duet Book 2) Page 7