Page 67 of The Cheerleader

“I’m tired, Liz.” It’s the only thing I can tell her that’s true without getting into a long story.

She nods. “Do you mind if I stay? I’m having a ball. I know I’ll pay in the morning, but you know what they say—work hard and play hard.” She grins and pulls me toward Bryan.

I think she may have had one beer too many, but her confidence is still intact. “Bryan will walk you back to the dorm.”

He dips his head ever so slightly in a nod, aiming those intense dark eyes at me. I flick my eyes to Liz, uncomfortable being in the middle of her and the guy she wants, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Or maybe she’s too buzzed to notice. Or maybe she’s over him and content to be friends.

Taking me into a quick hug, she murmurs, “See you in the morning, sista.” Then she kisses me on the lips as if it’s perfectly normal and bounces back to the knot of raucous athletes, a mix of football players, cheerleaders, and a few others I don’t recognize.

“Let’s get out of here.” Bryan turns and then sweeps me up with his arm, guiding me out the nearby door. His touch is hot and his arm is like a band of iron, making me notice, making my nerves stand on end.

There’s still a line of students waiting to get into the pub, and a bouncer has taken the place of the manager, standing with his arms folded, comfortable in his role of guardian at the gate. He nods and smiles at me and then sees Bryan. I can tell the exact moment he recognizes Bryan. The look of respect and admiration is quickly followed by surprise.

“Shit,” the guy mutters, but I hear him as we pass by. Bryan doesn’t acknowledge him or anyone in the line as a few of them watch us.

Someone shouts after us, “Hey Bryan, crush ‘em on Saturday.” Then others turn, and the distinct sound of murmurs rises, and I catch a few snatches of the commentary.

Mostly they’re wondering who the hell I am and what the hell he’s doing with me. Maybe I should be wondering that myself, so I slow down, separating from him as we reach the stairs. He takes the stairs ahead of me, moving fast and gracefully, as if his ribs are healed. He looks like a movie in fast motion.

I follow, and it’s useless to try to keep up, but he waits for me at the bottom. He makes no comment, and we resume walking together, turning left when we get outside to walk the block and a half to my dorm in West Campus.

The air is cool, and I almost make a comment, but it seems too mundane to break the silence between us about the weather. His silence is purposeful. If I say anything, it would have to be meaningful, or I risk his disdain.

“Why don’t you want to see Liz anymore?”

He pulls up short and turns to me. I stumble ahead a half step, not expecting his abrupt stop.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I-I’m sorry. You’re right. Whatever is going on between you and Liz is none of my business.”

“That’s true. Or it would be true if there were anything going on besides that we’re friends. I thought we covered this.”

I laugh. “Covered it?”

He doesn’t laugh, but he starts walking again, and so do I. As we get closer to my dorm—where I room with Liz, I remind myself, my good friend who trusts me—my discomfort with walking with Bryan, as if he’s the big bad wolf and has some kind of intentions, takes on paranoid proportions. I can’t let this feeling sit and stew in me.

“You dated Liz, didn’t you?” I bite my lip as he stops again, this time slowly, as he turns his entire body to face me. We’re on the corner a few yards away from my dorm, and he’s looking down at me. I’m thinking this is one of those times I should have taken my grandma’s advice not to ask any question you don’t want to know the answer to.

“What exactly are you trying to get at with all these questions about me and Liz?” His voice is low and a little gravelly, sending vibrations through me—an exciting sensation, if I’m honest.

Looking up into his dark, intense eyes, I clear my throat, then move my attention to his chin and his chiseled jawline shaded with dark stubble. I barely stop myself from telling him he needs a shave, realizing it’s something my mom says to my dad.

“I’m sorry. But she’s a good friend of mine, and I don’t want to… come between you⁠—”

He barks a laugh. “You’re serious?”

I meet his eyes in spite of the sting of embarrassment in my cheeks because I know how my words sounded.

“It’s not that I think you’re interested in me…” I trail off because I can’t tell him I’m concerned that Liz is still determined to win him over—to put it mildly. Talking about Liz with him wouldn’t be right.

“Then what is it, Susie? Tell me.” He sounds like he’s toying with me, like he knows the answer and knows he has me trapped.

“You know exactly what I’m saying, so why don’t you stop playing games?”

“I will if you will.” He doesn’t smile. Of course not. This would be so much easier if he smiled, if he were a normal, congenial, easy-going guy like his friend Dane. But he’s not. Nowhere close.

My forehead creases because I’m truly annoyed, frustrated, and disgusted with myself for being at all even a little bit attracted to this guy. I blame my fascination with that encounter in the ditch we had, but what if it’s more? Liz thinks he’s the next coming.