Chapter 10
The Jefferson High student parking lot was practically empty when I pulled into it. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Good thing—fewer people to accidentally witness the absolutely insane thing I was about to do.
Bad thing—less of an excuse to not follow through with the absolutely insane thing I was about to do.
I parked three spaces down from the nearest car with a clear view of the football field in the distance in front of me. Figures still milled about on the field, but I wasn’t close enough to pick out a certain quarterback from the lineup.
In my head, I rehearsed the conversation over and over, refusing to let the bomb building in my chest to diffuse all on its own. Refused. I wasn’t going to chicken out.
But objectively, I knew this was a really bad idea.
I picked at the edges of my decaying manicure; a habit Jade hated. She’d smack my fingers away, and then hurry to dig a bottle out of her bag to touch it up for me. A scolding, then a remedy.
I was so careful to never step on Jade’s toes, but she apparently didn’t mind stomping on mine.
Being mad at Jade Dyer wasn’t allowed. She had this way about her that I almost never wanted to be mad at her, and I definitely didn’t want her mad at me. And that was what friendship was, wasn’t it? But I just couldn’t shake the resentment.
I picked off the last fleck of my polish, and now that my hands had nothing else to distract them, I snatched my phone up.
Jade hadn’t texted. Riley had to have filled her in on our argument—probably couldn’t wait to embellish how things went down. And even though I bailed on practice, Jade hadn’t texted. Not once.
I guess that was a good thing—I wasn’t in the mood to rehash it now.
But her silence made me feel sicker.
Ugh, I’d gotten here too early, and with no more polish left to pry off, it was almost a compulsion to check Babble.
I couldn’t keep myself from not doing it.
One of the fun things about the List was seeing how things blew up after the fact, but this time, the dread only grew as I waited for the webpage to load.
StarBoi28: omg, they put Madison and Landon on the list???
BrentwoodBobs: does anyone else think they’d be cute together? Then Landon could quickly fix his label!
HeartEyes422: gosh, they’d be awkwarddddddd. And Madison’s label? brutal
SmileyFace20: It’s a new 1, right?
HeartEyes422: wrong though?? Nope. At least the TT is self-aware
GirlWithBangs: don’t be bullies, guys ):
People ignored GirlWithBangs’s attempt to tone things down and continued ripping through the labels. My name popped up time and time again—more than anyone’s. More than Landon’s.
The next time I looked up, I found players starting to walk off the field. I slunk down in my seat with a gasp, even though my windows were tinted and they probably couldn’t see in.
Jefferson apparently didn’t have practice uniforms, because all the boys were wearing different colored cutoffs, or their shoulder pads without jerseys on them.
At Brentwood, we had an equipment room the boys put their shoulder pads in, but at Jefferson, apparently, they just took them home.
Each boy put their pads in the trunk or in the backseat.
I scrunched my nose up. The smell must’ve been horrendous.
My gaze snagged on the final boy to walk off the field.
Logan.
He still had his shoulder pads on, helping the apparent water boy carry the cooler back. Logan’s blond hair stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks were still a little pink from the exertion of practice. Whereas all the other Jefferson football players looked grungy and slimy, Logan looked…
Well.
My stomach did a somersault.
He looked hot.
Logan walked with the pre-teen boy to the back of a red sedan, where he popped the trunk and set the cooler in.
Logan reached to the front of his shoulder pads and loosened the ties, drawing them off and shaking his head free of them.
His black athletic tee hugged his torso, revealing muscle hidden underneath.
I shouldn’t have been looking. When Logan ducked his head under the spout of the cooler, getting one last drink in, I shouldn’t have been looking.
When he cupped his hand underneath the spout, using the water to press against the tanned skin of his neck, I shouldn’t have been looking.
And when he threaded his now-damp fingers through his golden hair, I shouldn’t have been looking.
I used my finger to pull my sunglasses down, low enough to peer over the rim of them. Lord have mercy.
It was almost as if he could feel my eyes tracing his figure, because Logan’s gaze immediately locked on my SUV.
I shot down even lower in my seat, my eyes nearly level with the top of my steering wheel. In my chest, my heart began beating furiously, suspended in the thought of what now. I could still see Logan through the gap in the steering wheel, just barely.
So I could see when he started to cross the parking lot.
Toward me.
Abort! everything in me screamed. Abort, abort!
I fumbled for the button to roll the windows up, but since the car was off, they didn’t obey.
In the time I’d waited for him to finish his practice, and scrolling through Babble, my blazing anger had cooled too much.
The bomb had defused on its own. I went from bold and fearless to completely cowardly.
And I had those freaking Babble comments echoing in my eras.
No. I could do this. I would do this.
I sat up straight in my seat, flipping down the visor to peer at myself in the crappy little mirror.
Despite the surety I’d be chewed out by Jade later—and probably Coach Chelsea—I was so glad that I skipped practice.
If I had to face Logan again, I wanted my makeup to be fully intact.
And right now, it was. Sweat had started beading near my hairline when I turned my SUV off, but everything still looked right. Still looked beautiful.
Snapping the visor up and pushing my sunglasses into position, I sat more confidently in the driver’s seat.
Logan stopped in front of my rolled-down window, but I didn’t cast a glance over immediately. You hold the cards, I thought to myself. Make sure you deal them right.
He volleyed the ball first. “I thought this was your car.”
I let the corner of my mouth rise. “You remember my car? I’m flattered, given the fact that you’ve never been in it.”
“I’ve walked you out to it enough times to remember.”
Ahem. Fine. He had a point there.
Logan’s expression was still locked, impossible to glean information from. “Does Jade know you’re here?”
“What do you think?” I scoffed, but the thought of her was enough to stir my stomach. I lifted my chin in the direction of his car. “Who’s the kid? I thought you were an only child. Is that another thing you lied about?”
Logan arched a brow. “Someone’s in a combative mood.”
Should I tone it down a bit? Before with Logan, I’d always felt like the confident one, but in that moment, it felt as if I was fumbling the ball. Badly. I flipped my head to the side, my hair following suit over my shoulder. “I wonder why.”
“It’s not like I lied about my personality. Just where I went to school.”
“One would argue where you go to school affects your personality.”
“Only when you make high school your personality.”
I looked away from him and back out the windshield, feeling myself scowl. Another point to him. He could stop with the good comebacks at any time.
“He’s a neighbor kid,” Logan said, answering my question. “Goes to Jefferson’s middle school down the street. His mom works ’til seven, so he waits with me after his football practice ends so I can give him a ride home.”
“Selfless of you,” I said, but my tone was sarcastic.
I hated myself for it—it was selfless of him.
Why did he have to be such a good-looking person and nice?
He couldn’t have been like Ashton or Kyle, and been a complete jerk?
He had to be kind, too? This is not gush about Logan hour. “I actually came here for a reason.”
“So not just to yell at me, then?” For a second, a familiar glint returned to his eye. Logan took in my cheer uniform, and I wanted to squirm under his roaming stare. “You have a game today?”
“It was a spirit day.”
“For the Most Likely To list?”
My hands slipped off the steering wheel. “H-How did you—”
“A few kids at Jefferson are subscribed to that gossip site,” he said, and then glanced off to the side. “I saw your name on there.”
Of course he’d seen it. My cheeks burned. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going to peak in high school.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not.”
Logan didn’t even blink. “I didn’t say you were.”
But he didn’t agree with me. He didn’t deny it with me. Of course you won’t. He didn’t say that, and it was the only thing I wanted him to say.
“You did, though,” I pointed out after a beat. “In the alley on Friday.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
I could see the boy in the passenger seat of Logan’s car in the side-view mirror, and he was staring hardcore. “My friends used what you said and made me the laughingstock at Brentwood High.”
“That doesn’t sound like it’s my fault,” he murmured quietly, thoughtfully. “I said it in private. They’re the ones who took it public.”
“You could own up to what you’ve done a little,” I all but cried.
Despite the anger that’d surfaced over the label, the hurt of what happened Friday still lingered.
“If you’d never gone into Brentwood in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
You never should’ve called me, never should’ve asked me out, never should’ve—” I barely caught myself. Made me like you.
Without warning, Logan leaned his arms on the ledge of my window, bringing him close. Instinctively, I drew in a breath, filling my senses with him—and I immediately regretted it.