Page 68 of The Cheerleader

“I’m not playing games. I’m just trying to be a good friend to Liz. And this—” I wave my hands around and between us. “Makes me uncomfortable, like I’m doing something wrong, and I don’t mean to.”

“Walking with me is doing something wrong?” His eyes look downright playful now, and he’s unabashedly teasing me, purposely adding to my discomfort, all still without a hint of a smile.

“Yes. Because she … still has feelings for you.” Dammit.

“You’re forgetting it was her idea for me to walk you home.” I see a twitch in the corner of his mouth like he’s suppressing a laugh—he’s trying not to laugh at me, but the idea that he wants to bugs me past my ability to keep my cool.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he rumbles, his voice scraping over my skin and making me feel things, like it’s touching me. I shudder against the goosebumps, against the shiver of sparking nerve endings.

“You’re doing it again—teasing me to make me feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m incorrigible. Didn’t Liz tell you that? Didn’t she tell you why she still wants to sleep with me?”

My hands go up and push against his chest as if to shove a mountain. He doesn’t budge, and instead, I stumble back.

He reaches out an arm to steady me, and I find myself closer than ever to him, close enough to feel his body heat, to breathe in his scent, fresh pine and soap. I dare to look up at his face again, not sure if I’ll see the teasing glint in his eyes or the dark, fathomless stare.

It’s the stare, but it’s a new expression, intense and curious, and surprisingly, I notice some discomfort.

“Don’t worry, little girl. I’m not interested in you the way you think. But to set the record straight again, there’s nothing between me and Liz except friendship, and no matter what she wishes, that’s all there ever will be.”

He lets go and starts walking, heading for the back door of the dorm facing the sidewalk. I trail him by a step, not willing to get nearer. My head buzzes with what he said, and my heart twists for Liz and her hopeless infatuation. I want to ask him why again, but I’ve already butted in enough, made enough of a fool of myself for one night.

We get to the door, and I slip my key from my pocket. He stands against the wall with his arms crossed and head back, facing the sky, taking in a deep breath of the night air. Maybe he needs to clear my stupidity from his head.

Putting the key in the lock, I pause. “I’m sorry for calling you an asshole. I had no right to bring up the subject of Liz. As you said, we’d already covered that.”

He flashes a quick look at me and nods his head.

I take in a deep sigh of regret and push the door open. But he stops me.

“It’s not all your fault. I was flirting, and you were looking out for a friend.” He pauses, giving me that same curious stare. “I can respect that, even as misguided as you were.”

Warmth floods me. His expression intensifies, and before I know it, he’s looking like the big bad wolf again—unless it’s my overactive imagination. But he seems to be staring at my mouth.

Until he turns abruptly and mutters goodbye, then walks off into the night with that quick-paced, graceful way he has. I stand there watching, shamelessly, appreciating his honesty, appreciating his gentlemanliness, and appreciating his physical power.

As soon as he blends into the darkness, I shake my head and close the door behind me. Running up the stairs, I don’t know whether to be relieved that he’s gone, or sad for Liz, or ashamed of myself for appreciating anything about the guy I can’t stop thinking about, the guy my old best friend wants so desperately—whether she can have him or not.

Chapter Eighteen

Susie

After classes on Friday afternoon, I’m at my desk in the room when Liz blows in, looking upset.

“We need to drive our own cars to UNH tomorrow for the game,” she says as she falls back onto her bed. “I stopped in to talk to Pete to find out when the buses were leaving, and he told me they were only taking one bus and the coaches were taking a van, so there won’t be room for us.”

“He doesn’t expect us to go to the game, does he?”

“No, but we are.” She sits up, and I abandon my Differential Equations homework. She goes to the phone, pulls the receiver from the wall, dials, and stretches the long cord back to the bed.

“Keith can drive, and Nick has a car. Of course, I’ll drive. There’ll be enough room for all twelve of us plus our equipment in three cars.”

I nod, and she starts talking to Keith, explaining the situation. It sounds reasonable to me, except for where we’re going to get the money for gas. I suspect it’s coming from our pockets. If we all chip in, it shouldn’t be more than two dollars each, I think, even with gas up to almost sixty cents a gallon.

We head down to the dining room for Friday night pizza at five thirty.