Dare You to Date the Point Guard (Rock Valley High Book 2)

by Lacy Andersen

  Mom smiled and reached over to pat my cheek. “Don’t worry. As it turns out, you’ve already fulfilled your extra-curricular requirements, so you don’t need to take Advanced Art. Now you have time to take Research Methods as an independent course. It’s all settled. It’s all part of the plan.”

  The plan. Oh, how my parents loved to talk about the plan. My gaze landed on Beth sitting across from me. Her eyes were slanted downward in sympathy, her lips forming the word sorry. She knew it was useless to try and fight back, not that I ever would. Misery flooded my gut for a long moment before I did my best to shake it off.

  Nothing gave my parents that proud glow like talking about med school. It made them happy and I couldn’t take that away from them. I’d just have to find a way to get my sculpture done on my own time. Not that this semester gave me any time of my own...

  “You’re going to love this class, bug,” Dad said, his eyes lighting up. “We looked at the syllabus. You get to run your very own research project and then there’s a big presentation in front of a panel. Honestly, I can’t wait to see what topic you pick.”

  “But Trina loves her art classes,” Beth said indignantly, her mouth full. “Why can’t she do that instead?”

  I shot her a look. It was nice of her to come to my rescue, but it wouldn’t help anything. Dad was sold on Research Methods 101.

  “Trina can do art during the summer break,” he replied with a shrug.

  “That’s what you said about my gamer convention last summer, but then you made me go to that science camp.” She crossed her eyes and grimaced. “You’ll probably make her do Model UN or something just as lame.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, Beth had a point. Our parents were constantly pushing new activities on us. The likelihood of me actually putting a brush to paint this summer was slim. Especially the summer before college.

  “Actually, we noticed Northwestern is hosting an art camp this July that she might like,” Mom said, pushing her curls out of her face. I could hardly hear the rest of the words coming out of her mouth, my heart was pounding so loud. Did she really say art camp? Or had I officially lost it? “It’s important to have a well-rounded resume when applying to med school. We thought it might be a win-win for all of us.”

  “That is, if she aces her Research Methods class,” Dad added with a gesture of his fork. “I don’t want this art to be a distraction. But your mother is right, it would definitely round out your resume. Think of it as a reward for all of your hard work these past four years. What do you say, bug?”

  Okay, so maybe this deal wasn’t all bad. A collegiate art camp was just the thing I needed this summer to take my art to the next level. If I could somehow find a way to juggle both my class project and this Research Methods project, I’d be golden.

  I would do it.

  I had to do it.

  Failure wasn’t an option for the Frye family.

  “I’ll do it,” I said, gripping the edge of the table. Becoming one of the top students in my class hadn’t been easy, but I’d managed it with a ton of hard work over the years. Honors courses, college credits, the ACTs. I’d faced each of them head-on and I’d do the same with this one. After all, this time I had the ultimate motivator. “I’ll ace it, Mom. I promise.”

  “Girls, we’re very proud of you stepping up this year,” Mom said, raising her water glass. “While most kids are out wasting their potential, you two are taking your futures seriously. We know you’re going to change the world someday.”

  I shot her the biggest grin I could conjure, while Beth’s thin-lipped smile left a lot to be desired. Still, Dad raised his glass in response and they toasted us, oblivious to the churning stomach this conversation had left me with.

  An extra class wasn’t the biggest commitment in the world. I could handle it. And the senior class gift would still turn out amazing, even if I had to put in all of the hours after school. It would be worth it.

  Problem solved and no dragon slaying required. All it took was a little negotiating and this princess was free.

  I guess Mason Finnick was going to have to get used to having me around after all.

  Chapter Five

  The impatient grunts coming from across the table hardly registered with me as I drummed my fingers on the keyboard of my laptop. I stared down at the computer screen, willing my brain to focus on the project in front of me, instead of the artwork calling my name just down the hallway.

  The thought of a possible summer at art camp was the only thing keeping me from losing my sanity. If it wasn’t for that gleaming beacon of hope, they would have had to nail me to this chair. That would be the only way I’d have any hope of passing Research Methods 101.

  Still, it was no use. I couldn’t focus. My eyes glazed over and the text in front of me blurred. At the same time, my foot began tapping uncontrollably and another low grunt sounded.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” Mason pushed my laptop screen down and grimaced at me from the other side of the library table, his heavy brow wrinkling in annoyance. “All of your fidgeting is making me nervous and I can’t focus on this chapter until you chill out.”

  I tried to smile apologetically at him, but my lips seemed to have been filled with cement. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little antsy.”

  “We already established that.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You got somewhere better to be than a stuffy library that smells like old man soap?”

  I covered my mouth, trapping in a giggle. Mason might have been a grump, but at least he had a sense of humor. With a glance over my shoulder at Mr. Anthony snoozing at his desk, I nodded my head. “It does kind of smell like old man soap in here, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s the worst.” He tilted his head to one side. “But seriously, what’s bugging you?”

  “It’s nothing really.” I frowned at the laptop, my desire to open it and get back to work just not manifesting. “Nothing important to my parents, anyway.”

  “Sounds like it’s important to you.” He raised a single eyebrow, his gaze heavy on my face. “What? Did they ground you from spending your extra time volunteering with the needy?”

  I made a face. “Very funny. But no, it’s something else.”

  “What then?”

  Tapping a finger on my lips, I wondered how Mason would react to hearing about my project. The guy was a jock through and through. He was even sporting one of the basketball team’s long-sleeved tees today. He didn’t seem like the type to understand art, but then again, I didn’t like to judge. Maybe he had a creative side — and maybe that was the side of him that I could use to finally break through.

  “Come on, let me show you,” I said, glancing over my shoulder once again to make sure Mr. Anthony was sound asleep. Sure enough, his eyelids were glued tight and his lips fluttered in a snore. “Are you up for a short field trip?”

  “Definitely,” he said, rising to his feet. “Anything to get out of here.”

  Pleased that it hadn’t taken much to convince him, I tiptoed quietly toward the door and held it open. Skipping class, even for a few minutes, wasn’t my kind of thing. So the last thing I wanted was to get caught. Apparently, Mason didn’t feel the same need to take precautions. He rolled his eyes at my dramatic exit and walked normally toward the exit, even stopping to drop a book loudly on the library countertop, which nearly gave me a heart attack.

  Despite my fears, Mr. Anthony still didn’t stir.

  With the coast clear, I led Mason down the hallway toward Mrs. Drew’s supply closet. Every so often, I’d glance sideways at him. I couldn’t help it. He seemed totally unfazed about skipping class. In fact, he stretched his long arms over his head and stifled a yawn as if he did this every day. It was either that, or I was boring him.

  “So...are you liking Rock Valley High?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  Silence wasn’t exactly fun for me. I always had to find a way to fill it. Mom had nicknamed me talk-a-lot-Trina when I was onl
y five years old.

  “Yep.” He pursed his lips into a thin line, his gaze straight ahead.

  “Looks like the basketball team is pretty good this year.”

  “Looks like.”

  My eyes trailed the line of gold and green lockers ahead of us, desperately seeking a topic that would bring about more than a two word conversation. Mason certainly wasn’t going to make this easy. If I wanted to be friends, I was going to have to work for it.

  But before I could think of anything, we arrived at the hallway door to the art closet. I pulled a green lanyard from my pocket, swinging the small golden key that hung on a ring at the bottom. Upon learning that my senior class project was now something I had to accomplish after school hours, Mrs. Drew had given me a spare key. It had been an honor. She might have been the coolest teacher at Rock Valley High, but even she didn’t give just everyone access to her supply closet.

  “You want to know what’s been distracting me?” I asked, opening the supply closet and clicking on the light. “Behold!”

  There it was. The pieces of metal I’d managed to find here and there. A few were from Mrs. Drew. A majority of it had come from the mechanic shop Collin Preston’s dad worked at. All had been carefully selected and were waiting for me to get to work. Even sitting in a heap on the floor, I could envision where every single piece would go in my plan to complete my masterpiece.

  “This is it?” Mason stepped into the supply room, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the metal. “This pile of junk?”

  I exhaled and threw a hand dramatically to my chest. “How dare you? This happens to be the senior class gift to the school. The senior class gift that also happens to represent you. It’s the most important piece of art I will have ever created. Years from now, when I’m famous, people will flock to the grounds of Rock Valley High just to get a look at an original Trina Frye piece.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched with what looked like the beginning of a smile, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “All right, so not a pile of junk.”

  “Right.” I made a sweeping gesture at it. “You’ve got to learn to see the potential in things, Mason. That’s my motto. When I’m through with this junk, it’s going to be beautiful. It’s going to be a masterpiece. Just got to think about the potential.”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever you say.” He shook his head in disbelief as he walked past me and back into the hallway.

  I closed up the closet and followed, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the whole deal. Was he doubting my ability as an artist? Or was this whole brooding thing just impossible to crack? I really couldn’t tell. We’d already spent two classes together and I was no closer to finding out about the real Mason. The guy beneath the dark looks and deep frowns.

  I thought we were going to walk back to the library in total silence, but suddenly he stopped and turned toward me, his lips twisted in thought. “Is that why you are...the way you are?”

  Confusion hit me and I paused a few feet away from him. “Translation, please?”

  “You said you like to see the potential in things.” He worked his jaw, his eyes darkening. “Is that why you’re always so...ridiculously upbeat?”

  Most people probably would have taken that for a compliment, but my cheeks warmed in a blush. Mason had a way of making even an innocent statement like that sound like an insult.

  “I guess. I just don’t like thinking badly about anyone. Everything...everyone...has a story. A reason why they are the way they are. I think that if people learned to get to the bottom of it, they’d also learn to see the beauty. And everyone would be a little happier.”

  “So you’re saying there’s no such thing as a bad person? Sounds pretty naive to me.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I totally understand that people do bad things. But that doesn’t make them bad. I think that most people want to be good, it’s just hard sometimes in this world. In the end, everyone just wants to be accepted and happy and known.”

  I could see from the look in his eye that he wasn’t quite buying it, but I’d been completely honest in my answer. He just needed an example to get my meaning.

  “Here, let me show you.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the gymnasium. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull away, didn’t put up a fight. He allowed me to lead him to the open gym door and stood by my side as we peered in on a freshman class doing stretching exercises.

  “See that kid?” I pointed to a guy sitting on the bleachers. He had red hair, black wire rim glasses, and a smattering of freckles across his face. “That’s Alex. Last semester he was failing Algebra 2. Couldn’t stay awake in class. Everyone probably would’ve just called him lazy, but I know for a fact that he works a shift every day after school at the grocery store. His dad left last year and he’s got two younger siblings. He likes to help out with the bills.”

  “Let me guess, you tutored him during your massive amounts of free time?” Mason turned toward me with a raised eyebrow. There was a challenge in his eyes, mixed with a bit of a smirk.

  “Yep.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. “And see that kid touching his toes near half court?” I pointed to a freshman wearing a black Marvel t-shirt and baggy shorts. “He knows every Tolkien book by heart and has three dogs he’s rescued from a kill shelter. He also happens to be the kid you saved in a fight on Monday.”

  Mason eyed me, surprise lighting up his face. “You saw that?”

  “Yeah, I might have.” I leaned against the frame of the door, shooting him a smile. “It was pretty impressive.”

  “I don’t think that qualified as impressive. Climbing Mount Everest is impressive. Stopping a high school fight is just boring vanilla.”

  “Maybe, but I’m sticking to my guns. You, Mason Finnick, have potential.”

  He harrumphed and leaned against the opposite door frame, but his gaze never left my face. He was studying me, thoughts stirring in his dark blue eyes. The bold attention made my stomach dip and my face heat. Yet again, Mason left me feeling like I’d done something extremely embarrassing. Like I’d bared my soul in front of him, although I was just trying to connect. Suddenly, I was very antsy to get back to class and return to my abandoned laptop.

  “Maybe we should get back to the library,” I began, taking a hesitant step.

  “Wait, now that I get where all of this is coming from, I’ve got one last question for you, Mother Trina,” he said, his lips pursing. He was still looking at me, as if I were a science experiment beneath a microscope. “If your junk pile is so important to you, why don’t you just go back to your art class?”

  I sighed. He didn’t know how much I wished I could. “Because, believe it or not, this Research Methods class is super important to my parents. And my parents just want what’s best for me. If that’s what it takes to make them happy, then I’ll do it.”

  He squinted at the floor and sucked in his cheeks, emotion swirling in his eyes. “Actually, I get that. I really do.”

  “Yeah?” It was the first time he’d ever offered up anything about himself. Part of me was scared to pursue it. He might bolt like a frightened rabbit. “Does your mom act like that, too?”

  “All the time.” He rubbed a hand across his chest and chuckled dryly. “I think she thinks I’m going to break. That she’s going to lose me. But I can’t be mad about it. We’ve had a rough few years and I’m all that she has in the world.”

  I nodded and silence fell between us. For the first time all day, I didn’t feel the need to fill it. Instead, as we returned to the library and walked in on a sleeping Mr. Anthony, I stole a few glances at Mason’s stoic expression.

  It might have been my imagination, but for a moment there I thought I could hear the cracking of glass or the chipping away of a wall. Mason Finnick was letting me in, I could feel it.

  I just had to find out what his happy was — the thing that made him feel seen.

  That was the key to getting through to him.

  Chapter
Six

  “Let me get this straight: we’re here to see a boy?”

  Audrey’s eyebrows nearly jumped into her hairline as I dragged her and Mandy into the school gym. It was the first home basketball game since winter break and the bleachers were packed. At the front of the student section, a row of senior boys had painted GO RVH on their bare chests in gold and green paint and were shouting insults at the refs. I went around them and led us up to some open seats a few rows back.

  “Yes, Mason is technically a boy,” I said softly, the crowd around us cheering as someone on the Rock Valley High team made two points. “He’s in my Research Methods class. I just want to be here to support him, that’s all.”

  Technically a boy.

  Yeah, right.

  Mason didn’t look like the other boys in high school. He had rippling muscles and a strong jawline that gave him the appearance of a college athlete. I was pretty sure half the girls in the stands around us were only here to ogle him as he ran down the court. And sure enough, when I spotted him rebounding a ball, all I could do was drool a little as his muscular legs moved him swiftly toward our basket to sink a two-pointer.

  “Wait — that’s him?” Mandy stared at the court, her eyes bugging. “He’s in your class? How do you sit across from that and get anything done?”

  This was coming from the girl who had sworn off men to focus on her running.

  I threw her an amused smile. “I told you, I’m only interested in being friends with Mason. Nothing else.”

  “Right...” Audrey’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Because why would you want anything more with a guy who looks like Chris Hemsworth?”

  “Looks have nothing to do with it.”

  “And I happen to know for a fact that he’s single,” she said, bumping me with her shoulder. “He was dating one of the cheerleaders for a while, but they broke up before winter break.”

  Mandy nodded. “Sounds like perfect timing, if you ask me...”