Page 90 of The Cheerleader

Susie pops into my head, but I shake her image away. I can’t put her on that list no matter how much I want to. She’s not the sweet angel of my memory and imagination anymore. She’s real, and she’s serious. Too serious and costly to pay the price.

Hell. She’s an all-or-nothing girl.

Liz looks up at me. “But the thing is, I think we should be more than friends.”

Shit. This is the last thing I want to hear from her, but I don’t have a chance to shut down her line of wishful thinking when the lecture hall door bangs open and two guys come through on their way to the men’s room.

“Let’s go outside,” I say. “Where we can have some privacy.”

She gives me the kind of sultry look that tells me she’s misreading my reason for wanting privacy by a long shot. “I mean to talk, Liz.” I force sternness into my voice.

But the door opens again and more people spill into the hallway.

“Man, that was crazy,” someone says, then launches into an X-rated conversation with his buddy, dirtier than the movie. The stream of guys talking trash doesn’t stop, so I pull Liz further down the hall, away from the exit where everyone’s heading. We end up outside the women’s room.

“Look, Bryan, I’m not stupid. I know what you’re saying. I know you’re afraid of losing what we have if something goes wrong, but I think things between us could be so much better if we⁠—”

“I don’t think you’re right, Liz.”

“Of course I’m right.” She smiles like she’s being perfectly reasonable and I’m the one out of my mind. Shit. What do I have to say to convince her?

“No, Liz. You’re not right. I don’t want⁠—”

The door of the women’s room opens, and Susie steps out with a few other girls from the cheering squad, the only females who showed up for this movie. They immediately gravitate to us as if Liz always has an open invitation to step right up and get her attention, never needing privacy.

She wears a big smile in greeting, and it’s genuine, so I guess they’re right and I’m wrong. I don’t bother trying to hide my annoyance at the intrusion, adding to my frustration of trying to negotiate my relationship with her as if it’s a Middle East peace treaty.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

I back away while the girls buzz about how much money they made off all the horny guys who paid a ridiculous amount to watch the overrated porn flick.

Susie glances my way and gives me one of those looks like she’s trying to puzzle me out, the look she gives me often enough that I should be used to it. It also happens to be a look I enjoy, so maybe I go out of my way to stay mysterious and keeping her interested. Whether it’s good for me or not.

I’m shameless when it comes to toying with her, but I’ve stopped feeling guilty about it. She slips away from the group and comes over to where I’m standing, out of Liz’s earshot. It’s as if Susie’s read my mind about wanting her attention, or maybe she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.

Maybe this is the night I ought to confirm that those stolen kisses were the tip of the red-hot iceberg. Or maybe I’m out of my mind, asking for trouble.

“Did you and your friends enjoy the show?” She’s trying to hold back a grin, and I doubt she knows how sexy the look is.

“I don’t know about my friends, but I didn’t watch it.”

“Really? Then why did you come?”

Her words trigger a different meaning than she intended, and I give her an evil grin until understanding dawns and her face flushes pink. My devil juices are good and riled up now.

“You know what I meant,” she mutters, looking away.

It’s a bad idea, but I put my hand on her warm, soft cheek and gently turn her face toward mine. Staring for several heartbeats, I make sure I have her undivided attention before I speak.

“I think you can be a very naughty girl. And I like it. A lot.”

Her eyes go dark as she stares, losing whatever shyness she had.

“Then that’s a problem for you. Because I’m reserving my naughtiness for…” She trails off while I watch her discomfort return.

“For who?” My question mocks her, presuming there’s no one better suited than me, presuming she agrees. Playing a dangerous game I can’t win.

She aims her eyes at me full-on, her mouth tense and determined, and says, “The future love of my life.” Her firm voice is quiet and brave as she reveals her romantic underbelly, making me feel meaner than I want to be. Not mean enough to say the words on the tip of my tongue. No, that’s a problem for you.