Chapter Six

Meg

The next morning, acting like a dutiful girlfriend, I made my way over to Luke after parking in the back of the lot. My helmet was safely tucked into my hard-sided saddle bag. I fidgeted with my hair as I walked, fingering my way through a few wayward tangles.

I realized people were staring. My initial instinct was to scamper into the school. Luckily my survival instinct kicked in. I realized I could make this moment work for me.

My boots slapped against the pavement.

My heart slammed against my chest.

My fingernails dug into my palms.

Luke was standing with his best friend, Adam, and a few other guys I recognized. Though he wore aviators to fight off the brilliance of the morning sun, I could feel him watching me.

I strode across the parking lot with an inflated sense of purpose. Luke gave me a subtle nod of approval.

“Hey, there,” I cooed in my sassiest, most playful voice. Though it probably wasn’t sassy at all. I probably sounded ridiculous. I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He had wanted me to up my game. Did this count?

“Well, hello, Nutmeg.” He pulled me into a bear hug, gripping me so tightly that he pulled me onto my tiptoes. A shorter girl would’ve been left dangling. My chin slid over his shoulder and I found myself looking straight into Jaclyn’s eyes. Her expression remained carefully impassive, except for the slight twitching of an eyebrow. I quickly looked away. While Jaclyn was no friend of mine, I certainly didn’t want to make her an enemy.

He dropped me onto my feet again but pulled me close.

“Nutmeg?” Jaclyn snickered.

“Nutmeg,” he repeated. He reached up and twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. “The color of her hair? It’s freaking gorgeous. And she doesn’t even need to go to a salon to get it.”

Jaclyn’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers trembled, as if she were about to run a hand over her own very chemically produced hair color with its multitude of blond highlights and lowlights.

“Nutmeg,” I echoed. I’d always thought my hair was the color of cinnamon…but nutmeg was a good descriptor, too.

I tossed the nickname around in my head and mentally rolled my eyes. Nutmeg.

He let go of the curl he’d formed. His eyes never left mine as he winked and said, “I guess I could call you Red, but that’s so…generic.”

An honest to goodness giggle slipped out. I slapped my hand over my mouth, as if I could take it back. Luke grinned at me. Not his cocky grin, but one that looked genuinely pleased.

“You like it?”

“It’ll do,” I said airily.

“So, Meg, I’m Adam.” Of course I knew who he was, but we’d never actually had a conversation. “Luke’s told me a lot about you.”

I sliced a curious glance at Luke. “Really?”

“I haven’t said much.” He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, presumably to let me know my secret was safe. “Adam’s the Wildcats’ catcher.”

Luke’s tone cued me in to the fact that this was supposed to be important.

I smiled at Adam. “That’s awesome.”

“You ever watch us play?” Adam asked.

I contemplated a fib, but decided on the truth. “No.”

“But you will this season. Right?” Luke asked.

The upcoming season was months away. Regardless, I gave him the answer I knew he wanted. “Absolutely.”

Jaclyn, who had been standing to the side with Meredith and Bethany, snorted as she rolled her eyes. Her disdain could’ve been aimed at any number of things. The way Luke was holding me close. The idea that I would still be around come next spring. The silly, but sort of sweet, nickname Luke had given me. Overall, I thought her scorn was aimed at my very existence.

“We better head inside.” Without another word, the trio spun on their collective chunky heels and sashayed away.

“We should go, too,” Luke announced.

“I need to find Trevor,” Adam said. He started walking backward, pointing a finger at Luke. “You’ll talk to Meg about later?”

“Yeah,” Luke said. “See you around.”

Adam twisted and took off at a jog.

“Talk to me about what?”

“Do you work tonight?”

While arguing about how much time we needed to spend together I had mentioned I worked for my dad.

“No. Why?”

“We’re going to meet Adam and the others for pizza.” I frowned at his bossiness. “Please?” he amended.

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

I didn’t like pizza, and I didn’t like the thought of spending time with his friends. I went with the less volatile excuse. “I don’t like pizza.”

“Seriously? How can you not like pizza?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can even date someone who doesn’t like pizza. That’s just wrong.” I brightened at this and he laughed. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. They have other things on the menu. Order pasta or something.”

“And stand out like some freak who doesn’t like pizza? No, thanks.”

“Just trying to help.” His arm slid away from my shoulders once we were inside the school. He paused before heading toward the hallway that led to his locker. “After school. Don’t forget.”

As if I could.

…

At the end of the day, before I’d even tucked my books away, Luke was at my locker.

“Just in case you were planning on trying to escape,” he said.

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

This was our first time out with his friends. Thoughts of escaping had hijacked my brain all day.

“Liar.”

He escorted me to his SUV. I stopped to chat with Francesca and Kylie along the way, prolonging the inevitable. Eventually Luke tugged me away.

“You should reconsider letting me drive you to school.” Luke tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he drove.

He had insisted I ride with him on our way to meet his friends. I wasn’t going to let him bully me into being my permanent chauffer.

“We’ve been over this. My parents”—my dad, I silently corrected—“would want to know who you are.”

“Tell them I’m your friend,” he suggested.

“I am not lying to my parents on account of you.”

His tone softened. “Meg, you don’t have to lie. We can be friends, can’t we?”

“I don’t think so.” It seemed intrinsically wrong to befriend the person who insisted on holding your puppet strings. “Does it really matter whether or not you drive me to school?”

“I feel like I should. It’s the proper thing to do.”

“I like riding my motorcycle.” It was true.

“I could see why. I guess if you have to drive yourself, that’s the way to go.” He contemplated that. “Actually, it’s fine if you want to drive yourself. The guys all think your Rebel is smokin’.”

“The guys talk about me?”

He gave me a confounded look. “Well, yeah. You are my girlfriend. You’re hot. You ride a bike. Of course they’ve been talking about you the past few days.”

“What do they say?” My tone was slightly panicked.

“That you’re hot. And they like your bike,” he deadpanned.

I slapped his shoulder. “Don’t mock me. What do they say about me?”

“Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re worried about. They wouldn’t dare,” he said. “Besides, what could they possibly say that was bad?”

“I don’t like people talking about me,” I admitted. “No matter what they say. It’s…weird.”

Luke angled into a parking spot. I sat motionless, even after he’d shoved the keys into his pocket. I could feel him staring at me.

“Coming?”

I turned to him with a grimace.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Am I that obvious?”

He laughed. “You are.”

“It’s not like I don’t have good reason. What if I say something to mess everything up?”

He gave my shoulder a friendly nudge. “That won’t happen. I won’t let it. It’s not like I’m tossing you to a pack of wolves. These are my friends. Besides, I’ll be there with you.”

Once we were inside, my nervousness began to fade. Adam was there with his girlfriend, Julia. She gave me a cautious smile and a finger wave as Luke pulled out a chair for me. We were met with a flurry of greetings from the rest of his friends. Adam nodded a hello while Leo eyed me with curiosity. Trevor eyed me with something much more blatant.

“Hi,” I offered to the group as a whole.

“Glad you could make it,” Julia said. She even sounded like she meant it. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be the only girl today.”

I slid into my chair, and Luke dropped into the one next to me.

“Of course she could make it,” he said lightly. “She wants to get to know everyone.”

“What can I get the two of you to drink?”

I swung around to look at the waitress who had appeared. Until that moment I hadn’t realized the rest of the group already had their drinks.

“Root beer, please,” I said.

“I’ll have the same,” Luke tacked on.

She scanned over the rest of the table. “Are you ready to order, or do you still need a few more minutes?”

“I think we’re good to go,” Adam decided. He rattled off our table’s order, which consisted of three varieties of extra large pizza pies. Our waitress was about to walk away when Luke stopped her.

“We’ll take two of the appetizer platters, too.”

“Got it,” she chirped back at him.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to a baseball game,” Adam chided.

“I guess I’ve never had a reason to go,” I said.

He frowned and shook his head. “It’s the best game there is. Our team is awesome. What more reason do you need?”

Julia laughed as she bumped Adam’s shoulder with her own. “Give it up. Not everyone loves baseball.”

“Well, they should,” he grumbled. It was hard to tell if he was joking, or really put out by my lack of love for his sport of choice.

“I might not waste my time at ballgames, either,” Trevor said. “Not if I had a bike like that. I’d spend all my time cruising around town. You give out rides on that thing?”

“She doesn’t,” Luke answered before I could.

“I’m sure she could make an exception,” Trevor pressed.

“Not for you, she can’t.” In another time or place I might be annoyed that Luke was speaking for me. But here and now, I felt grateful.

“If I ever make an exception for anyone, it’ll be Luke.”

Even though it was a fib, it was the right thing to say. Luke smirked at Trevor.

“Lucky bastard,” Trevor mumbled good-naturedly.

“You know who else is lucky?” Adam started. “Whoever had the balls to paint the school the other night. They were damn lucky they didn’t get caught.”

“Someone will turn them in,” Leo said.

My heart skipped a few beats before taking off at a gallop. I slid my hands onto my lap to hide the tremor rumbling through them.

“Nah,” Luke said as he grabbed my fingers and squeezed. “If anyone knew anything, they’d have said something by now. They’d want the reward. Whoever did it is in the clear.”

Our waitress came back to deposit our drinks. The moment she stepped away I took a sip. I was desperate for any type of distraction.

Leo told the guys he was thinking of getting a new truck, and in seconds their attention was trained on him.

“So, Meg,” Julia started, “have you finished reading The Catcher in the Rye yet?”

Julia and I were in the same American Lit class. It was not an AP English class as Luke loved to point out. I had started the book. But I hadn’t had a chance to finish it yet. “Not quite.”

She rolled her eyes. “I finished last night. I don’t understand how it became an American classic. The writing style is so…dry. And the plot is just…is there a plot? It’s so dull it’s hard to tell. I mean, it starts off dull, and it doesn’t get any better from there.”

“You didn’t like the book,” I surmised.

“It’s dull?” Luke interrupted. “Maybe you’re interpreting it the wrong way.”

He’d clearly foregone the conversation the guys were having to eavesdrop on ours.

“Maybe?” Julia offered.

He frowned before turning back to his friends.

For the next several minutes Julia lamented over the unfairness of the paper we had to write.

When she sat up a little straighter, I realized the waitress had returned with our food. She settled the pizzas on the table first and brought us the appetizer platters on her return trip.

When they arrived, Luke slid one platter to the center of the table for everyone to share. The other platter he slid between us, winking as he nudged it closer to me.

“You do like fried food, right?” He suddenly looked concerned. “Maybe I should’ve gotten a veggie platter?”

“There are lots of veggie options here.” I filled my plate with jalapeno poppers, breaded mushrooms, and onion rings.

I had just stuffed a breaded mushroom in my mouth when Luke’s free hand landed on my thigh. It landed just low enough not to be scandalous. His index finger began strumming along the edges of my inseam. He seemed unaware of what he was doing, absently setting my skin ablaze as he picked out a mozzarella stick.

I grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed. A silent warning. He turned to me with a sheepish smile. He probably thought he’d crossed some unwritten line. I hoped he had no idea I needed him to stop because he was making my insides fizz like a can of shaken soda.

Julia jumped back into the conversation, pulling me along with her. But the memory of his fingers skimming my thigh lingered for far longer than I liked.