The Perfect Score (Kissing the Enemy Book 3)

by Maggie Dallen

  Maddie

  “And then he left,” I said. “He just…left.”

  Kate frowned over at me as we strung up some orange lights in her family’s living room. Correction, Kate and Callie strung lights. I was standing nearby pretending to help.

  In all honesty, I was stewing. And obsessing. And maybe there was a little psychoanalyzing involved.

  But really, he’d just left. He’d walked off the field without so much as a “see ya.”

  “Maybe he had somewhere to be,” Callie offered.

  Sure, this was probably the logical conclusion that most people would come to after watching the guy they were theoretically dating walk off the football field five minutes before the event was supposed to end.

  But I didn’t buy it.

  “I didn’t see you go over and talk to him.” Kate said it blandly, like it was just a random observation and not a pointed remark.

  I shifted uncomfortably and checked my phone for the millionth time. Still no text from Ox. Granted, I hadn’t texted him either. I hadn’t called him and I hadn’t chased after him, because…well, just because. I didn’t really want to think about why because I had a nagging pit of shame over my cowardice.

  But I’d made the first move. I’d put myself out there, and invited him into my home, and kissed him with everything I had and then…

  Well, then he’d gone back to being the silent, grouchy shadow who lurked in the Fairfield High hallways. I don’t know what I’d expected but I’d hoped he’d do something. Put an arm around me, sneak a kiss by my locker…something.

  Instead, he just watched me. Like always.

  “Maybe he thought you’d lost interest.” Callie’s suggestion had my head snapping up and I frowned at her.

  “I went over to his house and basically declared my love,” I said.

  Kate arched one expressive brow and I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. So I didn’t exactly say those words, but you know what I mean.” I looked between my two best friends. “I opened up to him.”

  Callie climbed down off her stepstool to give me a big hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I rolled my eyes because it was slightly condescending, but patted her back because it was still nice to hear. “It wasn’t that big a deal,” I muttered.

  “Yes, it was,” she insisted.

  Kate widened her eyes. “It’s such a big deal.”

  Well, for Kate, yeah. She was as shy as they came. And maybe even for Callie because as much as she was outgoing, her whole lifelong friendship with Noah had been at risk when they’d decided to take the plunge into a relationship.

  But me?

  Callie kept one arm slung across my shoulders as we both faced Kate who was now hanging decorations solo. “Seriously, Maddie. It takes guts to get back on the horse after you’ve been hurt.”

  I’d spilled the whole story to Callie not long after she gotten into town.

  “It wasn’t a horse,” I muttered. “It was an Ox.”

  Kate let out a little snort of laughter and Callie smiled. The tense moment eased slightly as I’d intended.

  Callie bumped her hip against mine. “You know what I mean.”

  I did. And maybe she was right. Telling Ox how I felt had been the scariest thing I’d done in a long, long time. Maybe in forever.

  Telling Alex how I felt had been easy, but with Ox…well, I had a mountain of evidence telling me that I couldn’t trust my heart.

  And yet I had…to a certain extent.

  I nibbled on my lip. “Maybe I should have talked to him yesterday.” Or…this week.

  Kate and Callie exchanged a look. The look was easy to read. Ya think?

  In my defense, it wasn’t like I’d intentionally been ignoring him. I’d just…intentionally been ignoring him.

  Ugh. There were no two ways to look at it. I’d been a freak this week and I knew it. But come Monday morning everything had seemed so different. So...real.

  It wasn’t just the two of us in his bedroom, or the two of us surrounded by the ever-distracting little sisters. It had been the two of us at school, surrounded by everyone we knew. And I’d…well, I’d frozen. I’d retreated into what I did best. I’d kept busy, I’d kept a smile on my face, and I studiously avoided being alone with Ox because…

  Because why?

  Callie’s arm tightened around my shoulder as I sighed. Yeah, okay. Maybe I’d been a little afraid. Maybe I’d worried that he’d changed his mind or that I was making another mistake.

  Maybe I was afraid that my heart would be broken once again.

  Ugh. It was official. “I should be the Cowardly Lion.”

  The non sequitur had both of my friends staring at me blankly. Right. They hadn’t been there for that whole conversation. I shook my head. It wasn’t worth explaining since I’d changed my mind about my costume, anyway.

  Taking a deep breath I straightened, Callie’s arm falling away as I stood on my own two feet. I let out a loud sigh as I realized what I had to do. “I need to go talk to him, don’t I?”

  My friends wore matching looks of empathy. “You do,” Callie said.

  No amount of talking to them would clear the air, so there was only one thing to do. “Will you guys be okay decorating without me?”

  They exchanged another amused look at my expense. “We’ve been managing pretty well without you so far,” Callie pointed out.

  “Fair enough. But I’ll be back.”

  Callie shouted after me. “Don’t come back without your boyfriend!”

  When Ox’s mom showed up at the door and told me he wasn’t home I experienced the most bizarre mix of crushing disappointment and exhilarating relief. “Okay, thank you,” I said, my smile forced.

  I took deep calming breaths the whole way home because I was so anxious, and excited, and nervous, and…oh man, I couldn’t even begin to name all the feelings that were bubbling up at the thought of what I’d say to Ox when I finally saw him.

  And that crazy cauldron of emotions overflowed entirely when I pulled onto my street and saw Ox’s truck parked in my driveway.

  I sat there for a while and watched Ox sitting there in the driver’s seat. Every fear I’d secretly harbored all week surfaced and taunted me. He was here to officially break it off. He’d tell me what a mistake he’d made. He was here to tell me that he wanted someone else—someone more serious, someone he could actually love.

  I was torturing myself. The masochist in me had a field day. Logically, of course, I realized that the only way to truly know what he was going to say was to speak to him. But that was so much easier said than done.

  My whole body conspired against me as I sat there frozen in my car.

  When I couldn’t bear not knowing any longer, I got out and headed to his truck. I climbed in beside him and faced that blank stare that I knew hid so much.

  More than my wounded pride and more than my hurt feelings and more than my ache to throw myself into his arms—I wanted to know what was going on in there, in that big teddy bear heart and behind the stern, unreadable mask.

  “Hi.” That was all I could manage, and it came out all soft and shy.

  He gave a grunting noise that I took to be “hey.”

  We sat there staring for so long that I was a little afraid to break the silence. I was afraid that at the end of whatever conversation was about to come I’d be heartbroken.

  But I was more afraid that if I didn’t try to make this work, I’d also be heartbroken.

  This was truly a damned if you and damned if you don’t kind of moment.

  “Why did you leave the football game without talking to me?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed a bit like he was either trying really hard to think of an answer or was trying to decipher what I’d said. He answered with a question. “Why didn’t you talk to me all week?”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

  When he didn’t answer, a surge of frustration had me talking again. “How come
I always have to be the one who makes the first move?”

  Apparently Ox took that as a challenge because he reached for me, tugged me toward him and kissed me so passionately I forgot my own name.

  When he pulled back he said, “Okay?”

  Well, I had told him he needed to make the first move. Well played, sir. I managed a little nod as I tried to catch my breath. My palms were still on his biceps and he was so close I could hear his ragged breathing and feel the heat of his skin.

  A big part of me wanted to curl up on his lap like I had that fateful night. Much as it had sucked, I couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever felt safer or more cared for than when he’d held me tight.

  I held on to that memory as I met his gaze. “Were you ignoring me on purpose?”

  He didn’t answer and I saw the hesitation in his eyes.

  “When you left the field,” I said. “When you left without a word. Were you mad at me?”

  “I thought you were done with me.”

  I blinked rapidly as his words hit me with full force. “What? Why?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “You didn’t talk to me like you usually do.” He paused and I thought I saw a flash of guilt before he added, “And you were flirting with those other guys.”

  I drew in a breath so quickly it sounded like a melodramatic gasp in the quiet truck. “I wasn’t flirting.”

  I pushed away from him and scooted back. Every nasty thing that guy at the party had said, every jerky thing Alex had ever done—I put a hand over my heart to try and assuage the stabbing pain.

  “You believe all the crap people say about me?” It came out too high-pitched, but I couldn’t help it. I thought this guy knew me. I thought he saw past the rumors and my stupid boy-craziness. I thought he saw that this thing with him was different.

  I reached for the door handle but his big hand covering mine where it lay on the middle seat stopped me. His touch was so gentle, so soft and kind despite the fact that he was such a big tough guy.

  This was the dichotomy that made him so fascinating to me. That was what made me pause long enough to hear his quiet words. “I’m sorry.”

  I blinked and was surprised to find tears hovering on the edges of my lids. I didn’t cry. Ever.

  Well, not until this guy.

  I turned back and when he saw the tears trickling down my cheeks he cursed under his breath and pulled me back to his side. “Don’t cry.” It came out as a growl—an order.

  “I can’t help it,” I said. I pushed back to look at him. “I swear I never cry.”

  His lips twitched the tiniest bit. “I know.”

  He was being nice because he’d seen me cry numerous times now and that was just too embarrassing.

  I frowned up at him. “You hurt my feelings.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I wasn’t flirting with those guys.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I’m not a flake.”

  “I know.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “And I’m not some…” I threw my hands up for lack of the right word. “I like guys and I’m not going to apologize for having fun.”

  His gaze met mine and I saw no judgments there, just a question. “Is that what this is?”

  I knew what he meant. He wanted to know if this was just some hookup, some distraction to get over Alex.

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I swallowed down more tears. “The fact that you have to ask makes me unbelievably sad.”

  He stared at me for a while. “I don’t think you’re flakey or easy or any of those other things.”

  I blinked. “Okay.”

  “It’s me.”

  I stared at him so hard my eyes hurt. “What?”

  He didn’t explain and I shook my head. “What do you mean, it’s me? Is that the shortened Ox version of the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech?” I drew in a deep breath to avoid the chest-crushing ache. “Are you breaking up with me after one week?”

  His eyes widened, possibly because my voice had gone from high-pitched to shrill to a range that only dogs could hear. “What? No. No, I—” He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “I suck at this.”

  I crossed my arms. I was so not going to argue that point. “Uh, yeah you do.”

  He made a sort of huffing sound and I didn’t know if he was laughing or exasperated. “I think you are the best person I know.”

  The ache in my chest was still there but now it was of an entirely different variety. “Oh.”

  He looked over at me and the intensity, the sincerity, the adoration…it was heartbreakingly beautiful.

  And confusing.

  “So then why did you think I was flirting with some other guys one week after I told you I liked you?”

  He shifted and made a sound like he was clearing his throat. For a second I thought he might not answer me. When he did, it wasn’t really an answer. “I had a friend.”

  I stared blankly. “Okay.” Then I thought about what he said. I had a friend—past tense. Friend—singular. “When was this?”

  He turned to face me. “At my old school.”

  I nodded and bit my tongue to keep silent. I would not pry this out of him. That might be how I rolled with Kate, but with Ox…I needed him to open up to me. It seemed vital to this fledgling relationship. It had been hard as hell for me to do, and I deserved the same in return from him.

  “I was a big kid.”

  I eyed the giant in front of me. “I can imagine.”

  One side of his mouth twitched up and he glanced over at me before turning back to face front. “No, not like that. I wasn’t big in a good way.”

  I blinked a couple of times as I figured out what he meant. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And on top of that, I’ve never been much good at talking.”

  “Really?” I teased, because I couldn’t stop myself and because the tension in the car was getting too painful.

  He flashed me a small smile and it made my world spin. I loved his smile so much it hurt.

  “Hard to believe, I know.”

  I grinned at him. How many people had ever heard the big bad Ox make fun of himself like this? I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from lunging into his arms. “Okay, so you were—”

  “Fat,” he said shortly.

  “And you weren’t great at expressing yourself,” I added, far more diplomatically. There was a question in my voice. A prompt.

  I watched him take a deep breath. “Most of my friends from elementary school sort of…fell to the wayside by junior high.”

  I felt another sting of tears but this time on his behalf. I hated how matter-of-fact he was about it. “Kids are stupid.”

  He didn’t argue. “One friend stuck with me.” He glanced over at me quickly. “Eve.”

  Eve. I clenched my fists against my side. I had a feeling I was going to hate Eve. “Was she just your friend?”

  “That’s how she saw me,” he said.

  “But you liked her,” I said.

  He didn’t respond and I was glad. There was already a good chance I was going to have to track this Eve chick down and tear her eyes out.

  Seriously, though. I wasn’t normally a jealous person. This guy just brought out the possessive and overprotective in me.

  “She didn’t feel the same,” he said. “I knew that. But she was still nice to me.”

  “And?”

  He shrugged. “And then she wasn’t.”

  I watched a muscle in his jaw twitch and knew that there was a story there. One I’d need to hear one day. But for now…for now I could fill in the blanks. His one friend—the girl he liked—had turned on him because he wasn’t cool.

  “I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like enough, but it was the only thing I could say.

  He shrugged again as if he didn’t care. But I knew better. The guy might not have been good at showing it, but he had a big heart and even bigger scars.

  “I hate her.” It c
ame out under my breath and he glanced over with a flicker of a smile.

  “I don’t.” He looked past me, as if lost in thought, or maybe lost in the past. “Eve was…” He shrugged. “She was a nice girl, she just crumbled under peer pressure.”

  I held back another mean comment. If he could be the bigger person than I could be…well, I could at least keep my mouth shut. That was the best I could offer at the moment.

  I reached a hand out and touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He turned toward me, his eyes meeting mine. “No, I’m sorry. I knew better than to believe any rumors about you. I know you’re not fickle like that.” His eyes moved over my face. “You’re strong, and brave, and you are so good.”

  I smiled. “I’m not a saint.”

  “You have a good heart.” His gaze darkened. “You have an amazing heart.”

  I swallowed, oddly flustered by his sincerity. I focused on the other adjectives he’d used to describe me. “I’m not brave, though. Not all the time.” I swallowed. “Not when it counts.”

  His gaze connected with mine and I blurted it out. “I was scared.” I licked my lips. “After that night last weekend—I was scared.”

  He frowned, his brows drawing together in an impressively intimidating glare. “Of me?”

  I gaped at him. “Of you? No, of course not.”

  Some of his tension seemed to ease. “Then what?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it. This was getting deep. Too personal. As much as I lived to chat and flirt and all, I wasn’t used to being so open about things that really mattered. “It’s hard to talk about,” I said.

  He flashed me a sidelong look. “Do you want to text instead?”

  I let out a short, shocked laugh as my mind flashed back to that day in calculus class. “Was that a joke?”

  He shrugged but his lips were doing that twitching thing I loved. And just like that my fear went away. Because this guy…he would never hurt me. Not intentionally, at least. I knew that. I’d always known that.

  So, I did what I’d been dying to do ever since I got into this truck and I closed the distance between us, ungracefully scrambling across the seats and into his lap.

  He groaned softly and pulled me tightly against him. I buried my head in the crook of his neck and reveled in the feel of his strong arms holding me close, of his hands stroking me gently like I was precious and perfect.