Deliberately avoiding Cash’s eyes, I hurried off toward the front of the library.
He caught up with me a few minutes later, though. Our paths crossed when we each came to pick up some of the books that needed to be shelved.
“Hey,” he said, pointing down at the stack of books in his arms. “Looks like someone else just finished reading Lysistrata. Maybe it was one of the other strike girls.”
“It could be,” I said.
He smirked and went on shelving while I walked upstairs to put away some of the children’s books. I’d just shelved a copy of Hop on Pop when Cash’s words hit me.
The strike.
Shit.
I felt sudden tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I realized, with a miserable jolt, that I’d just been used again. That kiss hadn’t been Cash telling me he still liked me. He’d been trying to mess with me, to make me break my oath. He was using my feelings against me so that the boys would win.
I was an idiot to keep getting my hopes up.
chapter twenty-four
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“Huh?” I looked across the dinner table at Dad. His forehead was creased with concern, his eyes searching my face. I blushed and turned away. Truthfully, I’d been thinking about what had happened with Cash in the library. “I’m fine, Dad. Why?”
“Nothing. You just seem quieter than usual,” he said. “I mean, you haven’t even asked me what I’ve eaten today or lectured me about the health risks of this steak I went behind your back and grilled.” He jabbed his fork into a pink, juicy piece of meat and brought it to his lips.
“Sorry.” I sighed. “I’m just… distracted. But you’re right. You really shouldn’t be eating that. You need to have a salad for dinner most nights. I’ll let it slide tonight, I guess.”
Dad chuckled and swallowed the bite of steak. “Oh, honey. Something has to be wrong. Normally you’d whisk the plate away and force a salad on me this instant. Is it Randy? Did you run into him at school or something?”
“No,” I said. “It’s… I’m just exhausted.” I pushed my plate away, the food barely touched, and got to my feet. “I’m going to go upstairs and lie down for a while, I think.”
“All right,” Dad said. “You’re sure you’re okay? Do you need some Tylenol or—”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I just need to… to relax. When Logan gets back from his date with Mystery Girl, can you have him take out the garbage, please?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” I walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “And enjoy the steak while you can. I’m getting back on my guard tomorrow.”
He grinned and took another large bite, clearly savoring it. After he’d chewed, he said, “Just yell if you need anything.”
I nodded and hurried upstairs. The truth was, I didn’t need to lie down, and I wasn’t tired. In fact, I was wide awake, my body still on edge from that kiss Cash and I had shared. What I really needed was to talk about it—and not with my father. God, that would have been a whole new level of awkward.
When I got to my bedroom, the first thing I did was call Chloe. I thought about dialing Ellen’s number, since I’d already confessed to her about my and Cash’s brief history, but somehow I needed Chloe for this one. After all, she always seemed to have the answers, even when the rest of us were clueless.
“What’s up, love?” Chloe asked as soon as she answered the phone.
I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said. “I have something to tell you, and don’t be mad at me for hiding it because I was too embarrassed to talk about it, but now I need your help.”
“Whoa,” Chloe said. “Slow down. Is this some kind of freaky soap-opera scandal? Lissa Daniels, are you secretly a man?”
I let out my breath and laughed, and so did she. This was why I loved Chloe.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try not to get mad. Now, what’s the deal?”
“I made out with Cash.”
“Wait—Cash Sterling? Holy shit. How did that happen? He doesn’t go that far with anyone, the tease.”
I flinched, remembering the way Randy’s friends had barked insults like that at me. Cock tease…
“I can’t believe this,” Chloe continued. “Okay, so when? Where? And, most important, how was it?”
“Today, the library… and”—I sighed—“fantastic. Even better than the first time.”
“The first time? What the fuck, Lissa?”
“Yeah, that’s the part I didn’t tell you about. Don’t be mad, okay?” And I proceeded to tell her about the party over the summer, how he’d kissed me and told me I was amazing, only to reject me in the end. I even told her about the goofy little Star Game. Chloe listened in silence until I’d finished.
Then she made a thoughtful noise before saying, “But he kissed you again. That’s got to mean something.”
“It means he’s an asshole.” I flopped onto my bed, stretching out on my back and staring up at the ceiling with my cell tucked between my shoulder and ear. “I thought it meant something at first, too, but then he mentioned the strike and I realized what he was doing. His plan this weekend didn’t work, so he was trying a different strategy. He knows I like him, and he was trying to get me to break my oath.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Chloe said. “Or maybe he’s hot for you and just thought making out with you on the library floor seemed like a good idea.”
“I wish,” I admitted quietly, knowing Chloe could hear me, knowing I could trust her. “It just makes more sense for it to be tied to the strike, though. Otherwise, why now? Why do this after he’s told me he’s leading the boys’ side? If he really liked me, he would have acted on it this summer. I opened the door for him. We both know I don’t do that often. And he left me hanging.”
“Look, Lissa, even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, he’s clearly more attracted to you than to any other girl in Hamilton,” she pointed out. “I don’t know of anyone else he’s kissed, and he’s kissed you twice now. So cheer up, because he has to be attracted to you.”
“Right, he just doesn’t think I’m ‘special’ enough to actually date,” I said, thinking back to the awkward moment at the lunch table last week. “Forget how I feel about him—I just want to win. To show him that his sneaky little plans won’t work on me. On any of the girls… Hey, wait a second.” I bolted upright. “I’ve got it. I know how to win.”
“Uh-huh,” Chloe said slowly. “And what is this shiny new idea?”
“You’re right,” I told her. “Cash is obviously at least physically attracted to me—the way he was all over me today in the Reference section couldn’t have entirely been an act. And that’s all I need—for him to be physically attracted to me. I don’t have to be special. I just have to turn him on.”
Chloe hesitated. “I think I know where you’re going with this, but I’m not sure—”
“It’s perfect,” I told her. “If I can get Cash to want to sleep with me, and then turn him down at the last minute, it’ll leave him frustrated and wanting me even more. He doesn’t have to want to date me, just to have sex with me. How hard can that be? I’ll drag him along until he makes the other boys give up. They lose Cash, they lose their organization. It’s almost foolproof.”
“Lissa, listen to me a second,” Chloe said. “I don’t think this is a good idea, okay? When you started this, it was just about ending the rivalry. About making the boys stop acting like idiots. All we were doing was withholding sex. Yeah, sometimes it was funny and a little conniving, but it wasn’t cruel. Now some of the other girls are taking it further, like you told them, and that kind of worries me anyway, but what you’re considering is… Well, it’s pretty fucked up. Withholding is one thing; messing with Cash’s head that way is a whole new issue. You’re not just saying ‘no,’ you’re playing a serious mind game.”
“I’m just giving him what he deserves. After the way he’s screwed with my head, I think I have every right to screw with his.
”
“Maybe, but Lissa, this sounds like it’s about revenge for your hurt feelings over his rejecting you. Is this really about the rivalry anymore?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Come on, Chloe. Be on my side here? This is about ending the rivalry and us girls reclaiming our sexual freedom. And the only thing we have to do to win is for me to seduce Cash. No one else can do it, after all. I’ve already gotten further with him than anyone in Hamilton.” I kind of felt like laughing maniacally at the sheer simplicity of this plan. “If I can do this, we win. The war is over.”
She sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Just be careful.”
“Trust me,” I told her. “You have nothing to worry about. If anyone can control this kind of situation, it’s me. You’re talking to the girl who managed to fight off the horny high school quarterback for over a year. I think I can handle an evening with Cash Sterling.”
I ignored the little voice in the back of my head reminding me that today, in the library, I’d been anything but in control.
But I’ll be prepared this time, I told myself. I’ll have the power, and Cash will never know what hit him.
I grinned, knowing no one was around to see. “But, hey, Chloe… Can you drive me home from school tomorrow? I think I’ll need your help with part of this plan.”
I spent the next day scheming. Chloe came over Wednesday afternoon and helped me plan the outfit I’d wear on Thursday, when Cash and I would work together again. We decided on a short black skirt that, while covering the tops of my thighs, gave a great look at my long legs—one of my best physical assets. Chloe made me try on a number of tops to go with it, but in the end she told me to wear one of my old T-shirts that was just a little too tight, drawing some attention to my chest without distracting from my legs. She said overdoing it would be too obvious and would make me look a little trashy.
“Have you seen the dress Ellen wore on her date? She texted me a picture. It was cute, but it made her look too much like a stripper,” she said, flicking through my closet. “And speaking of trashy, did you hear about Susan’s plans for this weekend? Her parents are out, so she invited Luther back to her house. Apparently she bought some lingerie at a store in Oak Hill, and she told him she wanted to ‘model it’ for him. Funny, since she’s the one who was concerned about how ethical using sex was, right?”
“Kind of,” I said. “But I’m glad she has some tactics, too. We need all the help we can get now that the boys are trying to bring down the strike.”
Chloe gave me a look that I couldn’t quite read—something like disappointment or worry. Before I could ask, she pulled a hanger from my closet and presented me with a baby-pink T-shirt. “This one. It’s a good color for you.”
After she’d gone, I modeled several different hairstyles in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to decide which made me look the sexiest. Almost everything made me look cute, like an innocent, virginal little girl—the innocent, virginal little girl that, in reality, I guess I was. But that wouldn’t work. I needed something hot. I needed to look mature and enticing. Everything about my appearance needed to make Cash want to rip my clothes off.
I watched my reflection redden at the thought of Cash ripping my… Well, you know. I reminded myself that it wouldn’t get that far, so there wasn’t any reason to think about it. Ever. This was just a game.
After an hour and a half in the bathroom, with Logan banging on the door, telling me to hurry up so he could take a shower, I found just the right look. My shoulder-length black hair was pulled back into a high, tight ponytail that showed off my neck and gave me a sharp, mature edge. Great.
The knob rattled on the door. “Lissa, I’m serious. Get the hell out of there so I can get cleaned up and go to bed! Some of us have work in the morning, you know.”
I opened the door. “And some of us have to be at school before you even wake up for work,” I told him. “The bathroom’s all yours.”
Logan rolled his eyes and shoved past me. I could smell the perfume on him just before he nudged me out of the bathroom and slammed the door. He’d been out with his mystery girlfriend almost every night this week. Even last night—he’d picked me up from the library, dropped me off at home, and then sped off to meet her again.
“Are we sure he isn’t running an illegal drug operation?” I asked Dad in the kitchen while I poured myself a glass of milk. “I mean, that would explain the frequency of these so-called dates.”
Dad laughed. “Or maybe he just likes her a lot and wants to see her every day? Back when I first started dating your mother, I wanted to see her every single night. I couldn’t be around her enough. That was how I knew I was in love with her. Even her bad jokes didn’t get old.”
I walked over to the kitchen table and sat down across from him. “But did you keep her a secret? Did you tell people you were with her?”
“Are you kidding?” Dad smiled, remembering. “I told everyone. I was damn proud a girl like your mother was dating me. I would have shouted it from the rooftops if I could have.”
I nodded and took a sip of my milk. “I miss her,” I said finally. “Not as much as I used to—it was harder at first—but I still miss her. Sometimes I just want to walk in after school and talk to her, you know?”
“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I know. I miss her every day. But you know what helps?”
“What?” I asked.
Dad reached across the table and I took his hand. “Looking at you,” he said. “You are just like her, Lissa. Smart and funny and beautiful—and a little bossy, too.” He grinned. “She’d be proud of you.”
I wondered if he was right. If Mom would be proud of me. What would she think of the sex strike? What would she say about what I was planning on doing to Cash tomorrow? That was one of my biggest regrets about my mother. We’d never had the chance to talk about boys or sex or anything like that. Sometimes I wondered if that was why this whole thing was so confusing, because I didn’t have a mother to discuss these issues with.
And there was no way I could talk about it with Dad. Our version of “the talk” had been him clearing his throat awkwardly for about ten minutes straight as he attempted to explain to me the importance of condoms. I was fourteen, and, needless to say, it was an experience I never wanted to relive.
Sometimes, it made me wish Dad had remarried, that I had a stepmother. Not so much to fill in that empty space Mom had left in our lives—no one could do that—but to talk to me about things only girls could talk about. But I’d always known that would never happen. My father had been too in love with my mother to move on after her death. He’d told me once that dating would never work because he’d compare every woman to Mom—and the truth was, no one could compare.
Still, I wondered what Mom would say to me if she saw me now. Somehow, I worried she wouldn’t be quite as proud of me as Dad thought.
“I’m going to bed,” I said, finishing my milk and standing. “Are you staying up?”
“Just for a little while,” he said, rolling his chair toward the living room. “I want to watch the news, see the sports report—you know the drill.”
“Okay,” I said. “Don’t be up too long, okay? You need plenty of rest. It’s a big part of staying healthy.”
Dad smiled at me. “Good night, Lissa.”
“ ’Night, Dad.”
I walked upstairs, readjusting a slightly crooked picture frame on the wall on my way, and got ready for bed. Tomorrow was game day.
chapter twenty-five
I texted Logan from work the next afternoon and told him that I didn’t need a ride home that night. I had another plan for what I’d be doing after work.
This time, I was the one to sneak up on Cash. He was in the magazine room at the back of the library, reorganizing a stack of National Geographics that some nerdy twelve-year-old had raided early in the afternoon. I stood in the doorway, watching the muscles in his back and arms flex and shift as he reached up to the shelf, right at his eye level, and
placed each magazine neatly on top of the stack. The perfect order in which he arranged the magazines made me swoon a little.
I readjusted my posture, ran my hands down my skirt, and took a quiet breath before strutting over to him.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against a shelf full of Newsweek issues.
Cash jumped.
“Oh, finally. I caught you off guard.”
He turned and grinned at me. “Score one for Lissa.”
“Yeah, well… You didn’t almost fall off a ladder or crack your skull on a wooden shelf, so we aren’t quite even yet.”
Cash laughed and turned back to the magazines. “What’s up?”
This was the curse of Cash and me. We were doomed to never, ever acknowledge the fact that we’d kissed. I was sensing a pattern here.
“I, um, have a favor to ask,” I said. I could feel the heat rising into my face and neck, but I fought to keep calm. I’d rehearsed this, after all. This was part of the plan.
“Okay. What is it?”
“I’m supposed to write a thesis for English.” I said it just like I’d practiced in the bathroom mirror that morning. “I’m working on this paper about how participating in sports affects, um, grades and stuff… for teenagers, you know? And, uh, Mrs. Perkins says I need firsthand accounts or something to validate my arguments. Would it be okay if I interviewed you?”
Cash looked at me again. “You want to interview me? Why don’t you just interview your brother? He played football in high school, didn’t he?”
“Um, yeah…. But that’s only one sport,” I pointed out. “I need people in different types. So I’d love your point of view on soccer and how it affects your health.”
“You mean my grades?”
Crap. I was already screwing up the story.
“Right. Grades. So can you do an interview for me?” I batted my eyelashes in an attempt to appear seductive, but I was pretty sure I just came off looking ridiculous. “Please?”
Cash smiled at me as he put away the most recent copy of National Geographic, the last that needed to be shelved. “You sure you want to talk to me?” he asked. “Won’t it be weird with this whole strike thing? We are kind of enemies at the moment, aren’t we?”
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