Page 127 of The Cheerleader

“Does Liz know?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Our family kept it quiet. My father insisted, and I never talked to anyone about Caleb. Not since he…” He looks away, and I hug him tight and awkwardly. My heart insists that means something, that he’s interested in more than a casual fling, that he must care if he’s sharing something important with me that he hasn’t shared with Liz or anyone.

I lean forward and kiss him, covering his lips with mine, pressing and opening up to him with hunger and a need to show him how I feel. He tastes so good, feels so good, his body solid under mine, strong beyond my imagination. But not just his body, his soul, his essence.

I think I sensed his strength of character, his core of decency and protective nature from the very beginning when I found him, hurt and broken. He worried about me getting dirty or cold, as if I mattered more to him than himself.

He turns to his side and pulls his mouth from mine, brushing my hair from my face with his hand, steady and gentle.

“I told Liz there was someone else, but I didn’t tell her it was you.”

My heart leaps with my question answered so completely. And so terribly.

Managing to keep the tremble from my voice, I say, “Because you think that’s my secret to tell. I.”

He nods. “I’ll tell her myself or we can tell her together⁠—”

“No. After tonight, I planned to tell her after finals. I don’t want her to mess up her exams.” I feel dizzy and nauseous at the idea of telling her. “What if… ”

“If you and I are all wrong?” He snorts a derisive laugh. “Water under the bridge, princess.”

“No, it’s not.” I reply without thinking. “I’m—we’re not committed.”

He stares at me, his face going blank as if I shut him down, pulled some kind of plug that killed his emotions, because a brick wall looks softer than he does right now.

“I mean, we don’t know what we have.”

He remains silent.

“I don’t know if we’re right, Bryan. You’ve given me so many mixed messages. I don’t know what to think.” I feel tears well as the confusion takes over. My parents’ voices in my head tell me he’s all wrong even though they don’t know he exists. I know how they are. All my logical reasoning tells me he’s all wrong. He’s troubled.

But he doesn’t deserve his trouble, and I want to soothe him and take away all his hurt so badly I can’t stand it.

What if I can’t do it?

But what I’m most afraid of is that underneath whatever he feels for me, he has a thing for Liz that will never go away, that I’ll always be wondering about. I’ll always wonder if I’m enough, whether I was the right choice for him, whether he belongs with Liz.

“How do you feel about us?” He asks the question in a stark, pained voice that vibrates hard, like he’s holding back a volcanic eruption of emotions with the last thread of his willpower.

“Confused, guilty… needy.”

He snorts at the last admission. “You don’t need me. I’m the last person you need messing up your life.”

“Then who’ll save you from…?” I wave a hand.

“From what, princess?”

“You always call me princess when you want to make a point.”

He waits while I stall. Then I take a deep breath and admit the worst. “Who will save you from despair?”

He smiles. “There’s no saving me.”

“You’re wrong.” Determination and fear rise up simultaneously, but I’m hopelessly hopeful, so determination wins. For the moment. “You have so much going for you. You’re about to get drafted into the NFL⁠—”

“I’m about to lose the girl of my dreams and my best friend—two different girls—probably on the same day.”

I snort. “I thought you weren’t into melodrama.”