“Plans for Friday?”
I glanced at Riley and crammed two oversized books in my locker. “School,” I answered. “More specifically, a test in English and a study guide for government.”
“Oh! Right. About that English test…”
I knew what she was getting at. “We can study at my house,” I volunteered. “Let me know when you want to meet. I’ll order pizza.”
“Have I said you’re the best?”
I nodded and glanced around her, catching sight of Adam as he approached his locker. He had a girl with him, poor thing. He leaned against the metal with his arms crossed, smiling at her as she talked. If he wasn’t such a dick, he would’ve been attractive. His good looks faded the moment he splattered horse water all over me.
I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and shut the locker. Adam glanced at Riley and me as we passed.
“Headed to study hall?” Riley asked, turning so she walked backward. Her eyes were on Adam as she pointed at the girl, then shook her head. “Wish I had study hall,” she continued. “Sounds fun.”
“Get the rest of your class credits this semester. They might switch your schedule after Christmas.” She was still walking backward, so I turned and walked backward, too. “Is this a new thing?” I asked. “Did I somehow miss out on a trend?”
“No,” Riley answered, frowning. “Just trying to keep Adam from going for the wrong girl yet again. Dude thinks with the wrong head, and he doesn’t get how his actions affect me. Every time he breaks a heart, the girl wants to hang out with me to get him back. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of avoiding half the school’s female population. That includes some pretty pissed-off cheerleaders I have to be on a team with.”
“Tell him to keep it in his pants.” I turned toward the library. “Or set him up with someone he likes. There has to be someone.”
“Adam doesn’t like anyone. That’s the problem.”
I shrugged. “Can’t change people who don’t want to be changed.”
“But what if they want to be changed and don’t know how?”
“Deep thoughts by Riley Cross,” I said. “Will think about it and get back to you.”
“Please do,” she answered, splitting off toward another hall.
The smell of aged books and lemon-scented wood polish hit me as I stepped through the library doors. Mrs. Jenkins, the librarian, stood behind her desk, fiddling with computer keys.
I took a seat at one of the tables and tossed my backpack on the ground. Adam jogged by a few seconds later, followed by the bell. He was late to ag class, but my dad’s running punishment would pale in comparison to my special treat.
“Mrs. Jenkins,” I said, moping toward her desk. “I think I forgot my government book in the bathroom. Can I go check? If someone takes it, I don’t want to have to buy the school a replacement.”
“Sure, but try not to dally.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I grabbed my backpack and hurried through the door, stepping into the breezeway, where the aroma of greasy cafeteria food made my stomach grumble. The hall was clear, and the only noise was the clanking of spoons from the lunchroom ladies.
My time was limited, so I scuttled down the hall and quietly found the back doors. With one swift movement, I was outside and running down the sidewalk.
Humidity clung to my arms as I weaved between rows of cars. Adam’s Chevy sat in the third row. It gleamed like a ray of sunshine, freshly washed and waxed. I glanced around for any lingering students. The coast was clear. I took a breath to steady my rapid pulse, then curled my fingers around the tailgate and hoisted myself up.
With my body flush against the bed, I unzipped my bag and retrieved two tubes of shoe polish. The black one, the larger of the two, smelled like chemicals. I scrunched my nose and slunk forward, raising my hand to smear the polish against the glass. Top to bottom, side to side, the window was blacked out. Nothing could be seen in or out.
Sweat coated my neck as I hurdled the tailgate and landed on the gravel. I took another look around the parking lot, then blacked out the windows on the driver’s side. Like a ninja, I moved to the passenger side and repeated the process.
When everything, including the side mirrors, was coated in black, I slid around the trunk and scrawled #winning in white polish against Adam’s driver’s side door. My breath left me in short spurts as I ran to my car, dropped the evidence in my trunk, and hurried back into the school.
I was still hyped on adrenaline when I found Riley in the cafeteria the period after. I sat across from her and Tate, studying my chicken strips as the pair talked with the rest of the table. Adam was gone. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.
“We need to talk about Thursday’s pregame plans,” Riley said. “We doing the usual? Burgers at Big Sal’s, then the game?”
“I’m down,” Tate agreed. “Claire, you in?”
“That’s nice of you,” I started. “But I—” A cafeteria door slammed open, and Adam stormed across the tile, his cheeks red and his jaw clenched. Oh crap.
“But you what?” Riley said.
“D-don’t eat meat.”
Adam found our table, green eyes blazing as he dropped into the chair across from me. The intensity behind his glare made me wriggle. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor.
“What are you talking about?” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“Big Sal’s,” Riley answered. She bit into her pizza and shrugged. “I was asking Claire if she wanted to go with us on Thursday, but she doesn’t eat meat. Kudos to you, by the way. Tried to go vegetarian a while back, but only lasted a week. Chicken did me in.”
“Funny,” Adam stated, pointing at my food. “Claire’s eating chicken right now. Care to explain?”
Confused, I looked at Riley. “I’m a vegetarian?”
“Seems like it,” Adam answered. “Which means you won’t mind if I have a few of these.” He slid my tray across the table, offering Tate a couple of chicken strips while he finished off the rest. “Question,” he said, swallowing as he stared at me. “Someone messed with my truck.”
“That isn’t a question. Usually, questions have a question in them. Try something with who, why, or what.”
He chuckled, his senior ring catching the light as he scratched his jaw. “Okay,” he said. “What happened to my truck?”
“Oh, that? Not sure. Heard it was a girl you pissed off, but I didn’t catch her name. I’m sure there’s plenty of options.”
“You think you’re funny,” he hissed, “but I take a class with you. I recognize your handwriting.”
“No proof,” I said, smiling.
“I don’t need proof.” He leaned over the table and arched a brow. “I do find it funny, though. You can’t get my attention another way, so you have to resort to stupid little games like screwing with my truck. It’s pathetic, Collins.”
“Pathetic?” I repeated, my heart pounding out of my chest. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re nothing special. You’re a mediocre quarterback with his head shoved so far up his ass it’s a wonder you can see a football at all. There’s tons of guys like you, Meade. I’ve seen better. I’ve dated better.”
The table grew silent, and the rest of the room followed.
“That sounds like the bitter ramblings of a lonely, unwanted girl,” Adam stated, his voice a whisper. “Have you always been like this, or is it because I hurt your feelings? Is it because you’re stuck in Pader and you hate it? Is it because my friends are the only ones who have gone out of their way to be nice to you? Or, more likely, is it because everyone likes your brother, but they don’t like you?”
My blood heated as I sat there, slack jawed at the harshness in his words. He’d picked me apart in front of the entire senior class. By the smugness on his face, he didn’t even care.
The sound of my chair sliding against the tile was deafening.
“Claire—”
I ignored Riley and stormed out of the cafeteria. My walls were cracked, and I needed to get out of the storm before Hurricane Adam rolled through and shattered my windows.
I spent the rest of the lunch period in my car. Riley was waiting for me when I got to English. She sat at her desk, her chin in her hands, as I moved through the aisle and found my seat beside her.
Adam crossed a line. No amount of talking to Riley would remedy what he broke.
When the bell rang for dismissal, I grabbed my backpack and exited the room. The trek down Senior Hall was made in record speed, and I ducked into government without stopping to drop my English books at my locker. I was first in class, so I sifted through social media while the rest of the students filed through the door. That was a mistake.
Tonight was Senior Welcome Night at Baker Heights—one of the most talked-about events of the year. The bonfire, held on the outskirts of town, was put on by Student Council and the Booster Club. All my old friends would be there; Seth would be there; and it would be plastered all over Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter like a flashing neon sign for everything I was missing.
My heart ached for company; my soul sought comfort; and I was hours away with no possibility of getting there. It was like knowing Ed Sheeran would be in town, but the tickets were sold out. I’d see the pictures everywhere, unable to rein in my jealousy. I couldn’t handle it, and the event hadn’t even happened.
Adam entered with the bell. I heard his voice as he ascended the steps, but I couldn’t look at him. He dropped a folded piece of notebook paper beside my book. My name was scrawled across the top in slanted letters. I avoided it like the plague. Who knew what horrible things he’d put inside?
When the bell rang, I stood. Adam’s exaggerated sigh came from behind me as he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, closed the distance, and stopped beside my table. His jaw was tight as he pulled the paper from the desk, unfolded it, and pointed at the words.
“I’m sorry,” he read, lifting his gaze. “I didn’t mean to take it that far.”
“Thanks,” I answered, busying myself with my backpack. It was an apology, but a forced one.
“So, we’re good?” he asked.
“What do you think?” I slid the backpack over my shoulder and pushed in my chair. Adam blocked my path. “Can I go now?” I continued with a frown. “I’ve got another class. I can’t get there if you don’t move.”
“We didn’t get off on the best foot,” he answered.
“No, we didn’t,” I agreed. “The first time you met me, you ordered me to bring you ice. The last time I checked, that isn’t the best way to introduce yourself.”
“I didn’t order you,” he defended. “I asked in my own special way.”
“You ordered.”
He moved and descended the stairs behind me. “It was a small request, on a hot day, and I was already tired,” he explained. “Sorry if I didn’t add a ‘please’ to the end.”
“‘Please’ would’ve made you less of a jerk. Next time, add it.”
His left cheek dimpled. “Noted.”
He followed me into the hall, thick crowds of students parting for him like they’d burn at his touch. When I found my locker a minute later, he was still by my side.
“If you think stalking is a good way to apologize, you’re wrong.” I hung my backpack on the hook and unzipped it. “It’s creepy and desperate.”
“Oh?” He took a step back, his hands outstretched in front of him. “Well, I guess I’ll take my creepy and desperate self over there.”
“You and yourself have fun.”
“Trust me, we will.”
He winked and sauntered across the tile, girls watching him as he walked. Why were the hot ones always evil? It was like the universe needed their personality to be ugly so it balanced out their handsome exterior.
I was still stewing on that question when I got home. Thankfully, the gorgeous bachelor on TV disproved my theory. He was one part adventurous, one part emotional, one part honest, and one part rugged stud. It was a vast improvement from what Pader High had to offer.
Nestled on the couch in my pajamas, I crammed a handful of popcorn in my mouth and swooned. Movement on the porch drew my attention. Case pushed his way in, interrupting the rose ceremony halfway through one girl’s meltdown.
“Wow, sis, you look hideous.”
“Wow, Case, you smell like ass.” My nose crinkled, and I stared at the television. “They make these things called showers. I’m sure there’s a few in the field house. You should use them.”
“Fine, no present for you,” he answered, rounding the couch with a Sonic cup in his hand.
I smiled and greedily outstretched my hand. “You don’t even know how bad I need a limeade. Thanks, Case.”
He took a sip, dashing my hopes and dreams. “My limeade, not yours. The present is your math binder. You left it in Dad’s office. Adam said you had homework, so I grabbed it on our way out.”
“Adam is the root of all evil.”
“Most girls think I’m the opposite. Nice to have a fresh point of view,” Adam said as he walked through the front door, hauling a box. He dropped it on the wood and brushed his hands against dark jeans. “By the way, there’s an overly aggressive squirrel on your front porch. I thought those things were day creatures, but this one tried to claw my face off!”
“Meeko is a good judge of character,” I replied.
“Claire named the squirrel,” Case added, looking at Adam. “It’s a weird thing she does. Just go with it.”
“Okay,” Adam answered, drawing out the word. “Name the tree, too?”
I pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and tugged it over my head. If I pretended not to exist, maybe he’d leave me alone. The blanket was immediately tugged off, replaced with Adam’s face. So much for my peaceful night with the nation’s most tantalizing bachelor.
“Is there something you need?” I asked. “I assume you gave Case a ride home. Thanks. He’s home now. You can leave.”
“Adam’s staying for dinner,” Case said.
My face paled as I stared at my brother. “Adam’s not staying for dinner,” I replied. “Adam has a perfectly delicious dinner waiting at his own house. Don’t you, Adam?”
“My grandma’s out tonight. My schedule is wide open.”
My eyes narrowed. If this was their idea of a prank, their sense of humor sucked.
“Really, why are you here?” I asked, staring at him.
“Dinner,” he replied. “Ran into your mom outside the field house. She was carrying a box—”
“Window decals for the team,” Case interjected.
“—and I helped her,” Adam said. “In return, your dad invited me to dinner. Wanted to talk about football scholarships, anyway. He has scouts calling. Who was I to turn him down?”
I groaned and stood, pulling the blanket around my shoulders as I marched toward the stairs. My dad and I would be having an enlightening conversation after the meal. He needed to know the boundaries between football and Claire’s personal space.
“Also,” Adam added as I reached the stairs, “your dad mentioned steaks on the menu. Wasn’t aware you ate steak.”
“It’s her favorite,” Case commented, stealing a handful of my popcorn. “Every time Dad grills, Claire is first in line. She’ll finish off two, easy.”
Adam cocked his head to the side and my cheeks heated. “Really? That’s interesting,” he answered. “Tell me, are you a rare, medium-well, or well-done kind of girl?”
I scowled at Adam over the rail. “I hate you.”
“Get in line.”
* * *
As fate would have it, not only was Adam a huge suck-up when he needed to be, but he was also a great liar. Mom was tonight’s griller. He ate my mom’s steak without gagging once. That was a feat by all standards, given that my mom charbroiled all steaks until they were almost inedible.
“Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Collins.”
Adam stood and pushed in his chair while my mom watched with an adoring look she never gave me.
I mimicked the movement and followed him to our kitchen. My dad stood inside, leaning against the marble counter while gnawing on a burnt crescent roll.
“Heard from the scouts today,” he said, addressing Adam as we put our plates in the sink. “They’re coming to the game on Friday, and they want to see how you run the ball. We’ll discuss it more tomorrow, but I wanted to keep you in the loop.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Coach.” Adam’s gaze flitted to me, and he withdrew his keys from his pocket. He looked hesitant, but he cleared his throat and wiped the emotion from his face. “I need to get going. Thank you for the meal. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” my dad answered.
He grabbed a dish from my mom as she entered behind us. I took that as the prime moment to nudge Adam away from them. It was no easy feat considering his size and ability to withstand the force of my biceps. Thankfully, though, he gave up resisting and let me push him out the door.
“Okay!” I said. “Have a good night.”
“Walk me to the truck.”
“Um, no.”
I moved to shut the door, but he caught it. “Walk me to the truck,” he repeated.
“Why? Want to berate me more?”
“I already apologized,” he answered, heading down the sidewalk. His truck windows were clear of polish, and the driver’s side gleamed once more. “Besides, you screwed up my stuff. I was allowed to be pissed.”
“Being pissed and crossing a line are two different things,” I said, trailing behind him.
Once we reached his truck, he turned and leaned his back against it. “Again, already apologized for what I said. Can’t do much more than that.”
“You could be nicer in general.”
“I’m not a nice guy. Think that’s a little out of the question.” Adam opened the door and slid inside. He cranked the truck, and the dull hum of classic rock played from the speakers, breaking through the quiet night. “Tell your parents thanks again for the dinner,” he said. “It was great. I had fun.”
“We both know family dinners aren’t fun,” I replied.
“Or maybe you don’t appreciate them,” he returned.
The comment struck me as he closed the door and pulled away from the curb. His taillights disappeared down another road, leaving me beneath the streetlight with nothing but dread settling in the pit of my stomach.
Adam was the epitome of annoying and the poster child for arrogant football player, but I seemed to be the only one who felt that way. Either I was missing something, or the problem lay with me.