Holy crap. Zane. That was the lamest thing ever.What happened to the words I rehearsed? My cheeks burn.
Zara’s gaze falters. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open a bit. “Did you just… ask me on a date?”
I nod. “Sorry I sounded like such an idiot, but yeah. I did.”
“But… you’re extremely popular. Why are you asking me? Did you not realize that every girl on campus has a crush on you?”
“That’s one of the things I like most about you,” I say, offering her a weak smile. “All the girls at school just like me because of football, but you don’t even care about football. If anyone is going to like me for me, it’ll be you.”
“That’s…” She swallows, her bottom lip sucking up under her teeth. “…Not totally true.”
“Which part?”
Maybe she doesn’t like me back but it feels like we’ve been super flirty over the past week. She lights up when she sees me. At least I thought she did.
“The football thing,” she says, turning her phone over and over in her hands. “I don’tcare, care about football. But it’s kind of a big part of my life.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“But you never talk about it.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not a part of the football world.”
“But you’re not a cheerleader,” I say. “And you don’t play football. How are you in the world?”
“Have you ever paid attention to the hallways at school?”
I shrug. “I guess not?”
“Well… you should,” she says. “Then decide if you want to date me.”
We’re already home. I’m pulling into my driveway before I’m ready for this conversation to be over. I don’t know what she means about the hallways at school. Zara opens her door and steps out of my truck. “Good luck at practice.”
She smiles at me, but I’m so nervous I can barely smile back. She didn’t exactly tell me no, but she didn’t say yes, either. And what does she mean about the hallways?
I rush back to school, parking near the locker rooms. Inside, I look down the athletic hallway. There are trophy cases and signs and artwork, but nothing about Zara. I don’t see her picture on the framed photos of cheerleaders. This hallway has nothing to do with Zara.
I change into my practice gear, still confused about her. As I walk out onto the field for practice, I stop one of my teammates. “Hey, do you know a girl named Zara?”
“Yeah, everyone knows Zara,” Brandt says.
“Does she have anything to do with football?”
Brandt snorts out a laugh. “I forget you’re new here. But yeah, Zara’s dad was everyone’s football coach in junior high.”
“Is that all?” I ask. I already knew her dad coached football because he told me the day I met him. That doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
“Well, that and she’ll be homecoming queen.”
I stop walking. Out on the field Coach is barking directions for what kind of drills we’re doing today.
“How do you know that? Did your school already vote?”
“It’s your school now, dude,” Brandt says, smacking me on the shoulder. “Homecoming queen is a tradition in her family. All the women in her family, including her sister Jackie who graduated a couple years ago and wassuperhot, were all crowned queen. So Zara will be queen too. And pretty much everyone has given up hope of winning king now that you’re here.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s right. A few guys have already told me they’re dropping out of the race because I’m the popular choice for making homecoming king.
