Page 24 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

Kyle places a mocking hand over his heart and flutters his long eyelashes. “Anyway, I’m just busting your chops. Rhoads is a cool dude. You do you, girl.”

Anita tears the bowl from Kyle’s hands. “Contrary to what you may think, saying stuff like that does not sound cool.”

“Thank for the tip. I’ll try to remember that when I end up at a state university.” He turns away from his sister. “What else is on the gossip list for tonight?”

I jump in, ready to not be the topic of conversation. “Charlotte’s looking for a boyfriend.” She smacks me on the shoulder. “Ow! Are you sure you haven’t been working out?” I rub the spot.

“Ooohhh who are the lucky hopefuls?” Kyle leans in. “Anybody I know?”

Charlotte looks past Kyle, focusing on the painting of the watercolor rooster Mrs. Rodriguez bought from the school’s craft fair last year.

He watches her thoughtfully. “You interested in someone on the team? Is that why you were at the home game?”

“Umm—” Charlotte stammers. Weird. She’s usually so composed.

“You should tell me who it is,” Kyle continues. “I can hook you up. I have an in. Plus, I can save you the trouble if he’s a jerk. So?”

“I, umm, don’t know his name?” Charlotte’s voice has taken on a strange high pitch that I’ve never heard before. Huh. She didn’t mention a crush to me; I was just trying to turn the heat on someone else for a minute. Does she actually like someone? And if so, why don’t I know about it?

Kyle seems unfazed. He taps his pointer finger to his lip in thought. “Maybe one of the new guys who moved up from JV? Although, if you haven’t been coming to games you wouldn’t know the OG’s anyway. What’s he look like?”

“You know, I don’t really want to talk about this anymore. I’m not even sure if I like him or not. Probably not worth involving anyone else until I figure it out.”

“Suit yourself. But, let me know if you need an introduction.” Kyle snags another handful of popcorn.

“Can you leave now?” Anita glares at her twin.

“Fine, fine. I’ll get the full scoop on Chloe and Rhoads one way or another.” He saunters back into the living room.

“Don’t pay attention to my stupid brother. He likes to stir things up. I’m sure he embellished whatever Shenna told him just to see your reaction.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “You’re probably right.” But my stomach squirms. Rumors have a way of blooming into many shades of trouble. We haven’t even hung out on a not-date yet and already things are getting blown out of proportion.

Is that why Rhoads was weird at the bonfire? What if he thinks I told people we’re dating?

Nine

CHLOE

Pop radio pulses through the speakers in my mother’s champagne Lexus on Sunday morning. Mom allowed me to borrow it on one condition—I return it directly after my shift at Coffee Jungle. My car is in the shop. Again. Darn thing is always broken. At this point I question whether I should even keep it. It feels like I spend all my free time to earn money to fix it and about zero time actually driving it.

I ease into the Stuff ‘n’ Things parking lot and find an open spot near the door. Usually, I come after school when the lot is packed, but I can appreciate the appeal of arriving at opening.

I count the petty cash Kendry gave me to buy supplies and tuck it back into my quilted shoulder bag. The purse doesn’t match my gray sweatpants and bright blue Cardinal Ridge hoodie, but that doesn’t matter. I’m on a mission. Not out to impress.

Besides, no one in my demographic will be at Stuff ’n’ Things this early on a weekend. Especially if the party at Casey Miller’s last night was as legendary as they were last year. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been to one since…well, since my connection to that group severed.

The car lets out a beep-beep as I lock it and step into the crisp air. I grab a cart and pull up the shopping list on my phone.

The usual upbeat music that urges customers to hurry up and buy buy buy is suspiciously absent, replaced instead by a soothing instrumental station. It reminds me of what Rhoads played for me in the music hallway. It seems impossible that was only a couple days ago, and that the bonfire was just last night. I push away all thoughts of him peacing out early—and the tiny bit of hurt I’d felt—as I wind through the store, filling my cart with buckets and sponges for the soccer team car wash fundraiser.

We have a few already, but from what Kendry said, they’ve probably been there since the school opened a hundred years ago. Cracked buckets won’t hold water for long, and I don’t want to even think about what kind of bacteria might be growing on the sponges.

As I stare at the fifty-nine or so varieties of liquid soap, a voice says, “That you, Baker?”

My lungs forget how to breathe.

Rhoads freaking Simpson.