Most Likely to Succeed - Page 40/71

“Yes.”

“I’ve told you, I’m good at reading people. Don’t tell me you were talking about student council.”

Quinn looked at Sawyer, then at me, then wisely pretended to pay attention to a dirty joke Tia was messing up farther down the table.

I told Sawyer, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Get back with him if you want to, Kaye.” Sawyer sounded bitter. “I don’t own you. That’s your choice. But don’t lie to me about it.”

Now Noah beside me was eyeing us too, and Brody beyond him. I glared at Sawyer, letting him know I didn’t find this public fight amusing.

He raised his eyebrows at me. He didn’t care.

“Aidan and I were together for three years,” I said. “We dated for a year before you even moved here. The way he broke up with me was ugly and open-ended. It’s hard to pretend that didn’t happen.”

The angry expression in his eyes faded. He took another bite of salad, considering. Finally he said, “I get it. But don’t expect me to be polite about it.”

I almost laughed and told him that was fair enough. But it wasn’t fair. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend, except he wasn’t my boyfriend, as far as I knew. I wanted us to be friends with bennies, but our bennies had gone missing.

I wasn’t going to point this out with ten of our friends listening, though.

Instead, watching him reach the bottom of his salad plate, I asked, “Why did you become a vegan, anyway? Are the pelicans your brothers?”

He slammed his chair backward so suddenly that everyone at the table turned toward the screech. Rising, he said, “I’m tired of people telling me I’m a dumbass for going vegan. I know.”

“I didn’t say you were a dumbass!” I exclaimed.

“You didn’t have to.” He grabbed his backpack and his empty plate and stalked away.

As he went, I finally realized what he was telling me every time he got angry with me. People at school thought Sawyer had a thick skin, but he was sensitive after all. And he was upset that I’d found out.

Near the other end of the table, Tia caught my eye and jerked her thumb over her shoulder, asking if I wanted her to go after Sawyer and smooth things over.

I shook my head and returned to my salad with a sigh. I was beginning to think whatever was wrong between Sawyer and me was something that couldn’t be fixed.

10

BY THAT EVENING, I WAS eager to try again. I watched out the window of the cheerleading van for Sawyer’s beat-up truck to appear, lumbering over curbs in the school parking lot. Just like last time he stopped right next to my car. That was no accident. He looked up at the window and saw me. I didn’t turn away.

He climbed into the van wearing gym shorts and his Pelicans T-shirt, with his huge costume bag slung over his shoulder. He stood next to me in the aisle.

“Do you need to put your costume on before we make up?” I asked drily.

He glanced toward the rear of the van as if he was considering this.

“Go put it down,” I said. “I owe you a shoulder rub, remember? Or is staying mad at me too important?”

“It’s not that important,” he admitted, already moving into the back to dump his bag.

He didn’t make it all the way. He took two steps and chucked the bag over Ellen’s head, making her squeal in fear. It landed on the back seat with a rustling of pompons.

He sank into the seat beside me. Before he could change his mind or feign anger again, I gripped both his shoulders and kneaded those tense muscles. He melted under my hands as if he’d never been touched before.

* * *

The ride home was even better. The cheerleaders were in a great mood after Brody led our team to yet another win. The highlights of the game had been Brody bulleting an impossibly long pass to our best tailback for the winning touchdown, and Sawyer directing the band. Usually when he wandered into the band’s section of the stands, the band director, Ms. Nakamoto, made him leave, or DeMarcus, the drum major, wouldn’t let him direct. This time everyone had been elated enough about our pending victory to forget all the times Sawyer had stolen flutes, disassembled them, and hidden them in the pelican’s mouth. Ms. Nakamoto let Sawyer through. DeMarcus moved aside. The pelican directed a funny version of “Fight, Pelicans, Fight,” speeding way up and then slowing way down and accelerating again. The cheerleaders, laughing, finally gave up trying to dance to it.

After the game, Sawyer disappeared into the locker room to take a shower. I carried his dead carcass of a costume back to the van, then retrieved his T-shirt and waited outside for him so he didn’t have to look quite so buff and manly by walking across the parking lot bare chested. That’s what I told him, anyway. Personally, I wouldn’t have minded. When he was dressed, I extended my hand to him, and he took it. We held hands as we walked back to the van.

Ms. Howard already had the engine running. Sawyer and I were the last ones in. Before we’d even sat down, the van started moving, and the lights blinked out. This time he got into the seat first, taking the window. He propped his forehead against the glass, anticipating what I would do next, as I took his shoulders under my hands. The groan he let out caused Ellen and Grace to stand up from the seat behind us to see what was going on. Grace made a motion with her hand indicating I should jerk him off next. Grace. Sigh. If Sawyer had seen her do this, I would have died.

But she was right about one thing. I was giving Sawyer some pretty intense physical pleasure. And he was letting me know. I felt his groan in my crotch. I curled one thigh up and over his, letting my lower leg curve around his calf, as if this gave me better leverage.