“Thanks.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and get off the barstool. Beth comes around the kitchen counter, standing in front of me.
“You can always come to me. With anything, I’m always here for you.”
I wrap my arms around her. “I know, mom, thank you.” I give her a big hug and kiss her cheek, then head upstairs to get some homework done.
After I finish my homework, I pull up the fan club website. I meant to talk to Ford about it tonight, but I forgot. I barely remembered my name after Ford, and I got out of the shower. Just thinking about it now sends tingles down my spine.
I put Aubrey’s username and password into the website and hit enter. A giant picture of Ford in his football jersey and pads pops up. He’s smiling from ear to ear and is holding a trophy. This picture must be from the state championship game last year. This website is ridiculous. It has a bio of Ford and a list of all the things he likes. Both are more fiction than fact. Whomever the author of this site is has gone to a lot of work. There have been posts every day since before school started. Some days there are even two or three posts. There are tons of photos of Ford. Most of them look like they’ve been taken without his knowledge.
This website reads like an obsessed stalker, and Ford is the prey. There’s a post about Ford kissing me after the pep rally last week. The caption readsfifty-yard line kisses.There are over a hundred comments. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I click on them. Several users ask who he’s kissing, then someone finally comments with my name. More comments want to know if we’re dating. Most of them say no, that Ford doesn’t do relationships. A couple of the comments say I was Ford’s summer fling.
I scroll further down the blog, and there’s a picture of Ford and me kissing in front of our lockers. This caption reads,first day of school make-out session. I roll my eyes and keep scrolling. There’re more pictures of Ford from the game last Friday and a few practices. Even one of him and his dad shaking hands with a college recruiter. I scroll again and come to today’s posts. There’s a picture of Ford in his football gear kissing me. That was today after school. It makes sense now why Leah mentioned people snapping photos of us. The next picture makes me gasp. It’s of Ford and me standing in front of his house tonight. My stomach knots with apprehension, and I feel panicked. It means either someone was following me, or that someone was stalking Ford’s house. I pick up my phone and dial Ford’s number.
“Hey,” he answers, his voice full of sleep. “Is everything okay?”
I take a deep breath and feel better now that I hear his voice. “Sorry, were you asleep?”
“Yeah, it’s after midnight.”
“It is?” I glance at my alarm clock. It’s a quarter after twelve. I guess I lost track of time doing homework.
“Hannah, what’s going on? You sound upset.”
“Ford—” my voice cracks, and I glance at my computer. Tomorrow’s an important football game. It’s against Ravenwood, the other top-ranked school in our division. There are going to be lots of college scouts in attendance. I know he’s stressed about it, and I don’t want to cause him any more anxiety than he’s already feeling.
“Please tell me you’re not regretting tonight?”
“What—no. I love being with you, and the shower was—” I let out a shaky breath, remembering how good it felt to be in Ford’s arms again.
“Yeah…” Ford says, and we’re quiet for a minute. “Why are you upset?”
“You’ll think it’s stupid. I was worried about you being home by yourself. I know it’s dumb. You spent all summer in that big house alone. I guess I was having a moment.”
“Baby, thank you for worrying about me. My dad put in a high-tech security system last year. I’m safe, I promise.”
“You could come over and sleep in the guest bedroom downstairs?” I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m still stressing about this. He just told me he was fine and that his house has a security system.
“Hannah—”
“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” My phone beeps, and I see that Ford wants to video chat. I click on accept, and Ford’s smile pops onto my screen. He’s lying in bed shirtless, his hair all messy.
“Hi, Baby,” he says, giving me a big smile that makes his eyes crinkle.
I lay back, resting my head against the arm of the loveseat. “Hey, Stud.”
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Ford, stop.” I smile and have the urge to giggle, but I suppress it.
“You know I can tell every time you want to giggle.”
“I used to think girls were ridiculous for batting their lashes and giggling at boys.”
“What did your mom have to say when you got home?”
“She wanted to know what we did and talked about tonight.”
Ford scratches his chin. “Did you tell her?”
