Part 13 (1/2)

”Just your brother.”

I thought she'd nod. I mean, she already knew Jared had been there. But when I looked over, her expression had hardened. Making me think she either didn't like that he and I had been together, or that I was starting to sound like Jared was a regular fixture in my life, like we were going out or something.

I grabbed my water bottle and got real busy drinking.

Then it struck me that Jared hadn't pointedly ignored me or called me that annoying nickname for days. (Which I still hated, though it was definitely better than ”Chunky.”) But now, since our blowup, we were back to square one. As if the past week had never happened.

But it had. And unfortunately, instead of mending fences, the past week had actually brought tensions to a boiling point. Between nearly everyone: Jared and me. Jared and Rascal. Rascal and Kylie. And Kylie and me.

While I was spinning my locker combo later, Rascal and his big red nose appeared beside me. My first instinct was to disappear inside the gray metal hole. Not because I was afraid. I was just, well, done with him.

”Nicolette,” he said, looking down at me over broken blood vessels and nasal swelling.

I held my gaze even and my grin in check. ”Hey.”

”Look, I don't know if you heard, but Kylie and I worked things out,” he said, moving in closer.

”Yeah, she told me.”

”And you told her ...” His voice trailed off in question.

”Nothing that's going to get you in serious trouble.”

”See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

I stared at him blankly.

”So what went down between you and me yesterday,” he went on, ”or should I say what didn't go down ...”

I shrugged. ”Is our little secret.”

He grabbed my arm and held it. ”You're okay, you know that? Maybe sometime, someday, you and me-”

I thrust up my hand, my palm rigid. ”Stop while you're ahead, Rascal.”

He let out a laugh, then turned and walked away.

For the first time, I didn't stare after him. I knew I'd never again quiver in his presence, or get all hung up on what could have been. Because now it had been. Okay, not the prom. But some of the other stuff I'd dreamed about. And it had been okay, but not fall-on-my-face fantastic. In fact, most of it had left me with a sort of raunchy aftertaste.

So when his best buddy, Harrison, tried to get my attention by putting his hand on my arm as I pa.s.sed in the hall later, my first reaction was to shake him off and keep walking. ”Nicolette,” he said, and flicked his head toward an open cla.s.sroom door. His pale green eyes (with little hazel specks, which seemed weird when you stared into them, but could probably grow on you) peered into me. ”Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I knew Harrison about as well as I knew Orlando Bloom. The only thing he could possibly want was my a.s.surance that I'd keep quiet about kissing Rascal. He was looking out for his friend, and since I did understand loyalty and friends.h.i.+ps, I moved alongside him to the doorway.

”Don't worry,” I told him. ”Rascal and I already talked. Everything's fine, everything's forgotten.”

”Great.”

A slow smile crept to his face. One that seemed, well, kind of personal for two people who didn't really know each other. So I gave him a quick nod and turned away. Only to feel his hand on my arm again.

I tugged away but this time could not shake him loose. ”What?” I said.

”Just because it didn't work out for you and Rascal doesn't mean you and I can't be friends.”

”Friends?”

”Yeah. And I don't have a girlfriend to complicate things.”

Complicate ... oh, this was more than I could take. Way more. I wriggled free and walked off. Harrison called something after me, but I didn't hear and I didn't care.

Zoe was doing warm-up stretches when I shuffled into the locker room later. I was beat from the long day, but even with all the stuff going on in my life, I couldn't think of a place where I'd rather be than practice. I needed some mind-numbing, physically exhausting, plain old girl time. I didn't even care if Coach Luther spent the two hours screeching at me.

”Did you see Rascal's nose?” Zoe asked as I was pulling my hair back into a ponytail.

I nodded and asked her what she'd heard.

”A weekend football scrimmage. He's lucky he didn't break his neck.”

”Did you hear that from Kylie?”

”No. At my lunch table. Kylie hasn't spoken to me since I didn't show up for the group facial, remember?” Her dark eyebrows came together. ”A hundred bucks just to wash your face. As if.”

The furrow in her brow didn't soften as she resumed her stretches. In fact, when she glanced at me moments later, she looked downright b.u.mmed out.

”Something wrong, Zoe?” I felt I had to ask.

She shrugged. ”Other than how my relations.h.i.+p with Matt seems to be disintegrating?”

I sat down on the bench. Not so close as to invade her body s.p.a.ce, but close enough to let her know I cared if she wanted to talk.

”It's like he only wants me for one thing. Like today, he was going to pick me up after practice? We were going to go to his house for a while, you know?” she said, and almost smiled.

I did know, and realized Zoe's relations.h.i.+p was a gazillion miles more advanced than anything I'd ever experienced.

”Then he found out his mom was going to be home. Suddenly he's not picking me up ... he's all like, what's the point?” She squinted so hard it looked painful. ”He's making me feel like one of those friends with benefits couples.” Then she interrupted herself. ”Oh,” she said, touching my arm. ”Not that there's anything wrong with that, if that's what you're into.”

I studied the guilt etched in her brow. Moments pa.s.sed while my thoughts gelled.

She meant Jared and me.... Oh G.o.d, she believed those stupid rumors! Did that mean other people did, too?

Suddenly things made sense. Rascal on my doorstep. Mitch wanting to be ”study buddies.” Harrison wanting to be ”friends.” They were getting in line for their turn, to get some of the goods they thought I was giving Jared.

And the thing was, short of pleading my innocence, there was very little I could do. Sure, I'd straightened Zoe out, but that was like putting a Band-Aid over a gus.h.i.+ng wound.

I threw my frustrations into my practice, slamming ball after ball. Coach Luther actually complimented me as she dismissed us, calling me a player who was ”giving it her all.” I just hoped the other girls weren't thinking I was giving my all to the male student body, too.

That night, I did my homework at the kitchen table while my mom worked on her laptop. Even though she kept biting her lower lip in frustration, I kind of liked just being near her.

By the time I closed my geometry book, it was too late to call Alison. Or maybe I'd delayed the call on purpose because, while I knew she would try to make me feel better about the friends with benefits thing, I didn't really want to talk about it, to give her more reason to suspect things were changing between Jared and me.