Eyes on Me

by Rachel Harris

  His eyes tracked over my face. “Yeah?”

  I nodded, my heart melting over the vinyl seat. “Yeah. And as for the e-reader thing, take it from a dyed-in-the-wool book nerd, nothing compares to the feel and smell of a real live book.”

  At his slow, relieved smile, I squeezed his thigh—and nearly dropped my jaw at the rock-hard muscle beneath my hand. Holy crap on a biscuit. The guy was built like…well, like a stone. For a second, I physically forgot how to breathe, and I fought to not swallow my tongue.

  Focus, Lily. Now’s not the time to lust over the guy.

  “I, uh, like seeing this side of you,” I said, reluctantly removing my hand. My fingertips tingled, protesting the absence of warmth, and I mentally told them to shush.

  “What side?” Stone asked quietly, and I smiled at how uncertain he sounded. What a change from the normal confident front he portrayed.

  “The protective brother side,” I murmured. “The guy who’d do anything to take care of his sister and make her smile. Listening to you, it’s obvious how much you care about her. I admire that.”

  I also couldn’t help wondering if he was so fiercely protective of everyone he cared about, and if he was, what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that kind of loyalty.

  The tips of Stone’s ears turned pink, but when he looked at me again, there was a new, haunted look in his eyes that made my stomach clench. He hesitated for a minute, the muscles around his jaw flexing and releasing, then he said, “I was scared I was gonna lose her.”

  His eyes closed at the admission, and he slid a hand behind his neck. “Hell, Lily, I’m still scared. It’s been five years in remission, so everything points to the cancer not coming back. But I can’t help worrying it will. Every ache. Every fever. Every random bruise, they all scare the shit out of me.”

  “Oh, I get it, trust me,” I said, thinking back to the awful days of chemo and trips to MD Anderson with Mom. “When I got sick a few weeks ago, that was immediately where my head went. My dad’s, too.”

  The hand around Stone’s neck fell to his lap, and he muttered a soft curse, but I pointed at him before he could even begin to apologize.

  “Don’t you dare. Yeah, I lost my mom, but that doesn’t make what you and your family went through—what you’re still going through—any different. We all have our own struggles, and they’re all valid. I just meant I understand how scary it can be, dealing with the unknown, and how you can feel completely powerless to do anything.”

  Stone and I shared a look, and on the radio, an artist started singing about hanging by a moment. As I listened to the words, staring into the eyes of a football legend in the making, I realized that in this moment, I finally felt understood.

  God, I’d forgotten what that was like.

  With Stone, I didn’t feel anxious or worried. I wasn’t scrambling to hide what I felt or trying to project an aura of control. Stone looked at me like he saw the real me, warts and all, but he didn’t pity me or judge me, and he wasn’t trying to fix me.

  He just got me.

  Slowly, I inched back onto my side of the cab. The last thing he probably wanted right now was me jumping in his lap and tackle-hugging him, though it was suddenly all I could think about doing. When I deemed myself a safe enough distance away, I shoved my hands beneath my thighs for good measure and said, “Thank you.”

  A wrinkle creased his forehead. “I believe that’s my line.”

  I snorted a laugh, which made my already-warm cheeks flare hot. “I meant for telling me about Angéla. I know you don’t like talking about yourself, but…” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “I appreciate you sharing that with me.”

  Stone’s mouth kicked up in a crooked grin, and his gaze traveled over my face. “You make it surprisingly easy, Lily Bailey.” He laughed softly, like he was a bit bewildered by that, and our eyes held as he turned off the engine with a flip of his wrist.

  The radio fell silent, the A/C went still, and I sucked in a breath as my heart started pounding in a strange, confused rhythm.

  What in the heck is happening?

  Stone shifted slightly, his chest turned toward mine, and I adjusted, too, my body drawn to his like two magnets across the cab. Seconds ticked as my insides vibrated with awareness. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but I knew it would be monumental.

  His gaze fell to my lips…

  Then, as if I’d imagined the whole thing, he smiled brightly and popped open the driver-side door.

  “Ready to do this thing?” he asked, glancing back at the bookstore, and I quickly shook my head to defog it.

  “Mm-hmm,” I replied, swiping my palms across my shorts while I tried to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Yep. Right behind you.”

  On spaghetti legs, I, too, got out of the truck and walked through the doors of One More Chapter, dazedly leading Stone toward a center display under the words Teen Romance. Draped with a red silk cloth, it held a variety of classics and new releases, and having snagged a basket at the entrance, he proceeded to add them to his collection, the slightest hint of a vulnerable smile reemerging on his lips.

  Occasionally, I offered my own suggestions, including my favorite time-travel romance, and when he took it and our fingertips brushed, the strangest sensation jolted my stomach. I whisked it away as hunger pains.

  But it was when we headed farther into the store, stopping to point out books we liked along the way—Stone lingered near graphic novels and mysteries, while I perused fantasy, history, and romance—that a sexy cover with a kissing couple caught my eye, and the truth hit like a final exam I hadn’t prepared for.

  The inexplicable twitch in my stomach?

  The runaway tingle tiptoeing down my spine?

  The vibrating insides and Sahara-like mouth?

  They were symptoms of an ill-timed, all-consuming, and completely inconvenient crush.

  I was crushing on Stone Torres. Hard. And I was so very, very screwed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lily

  “So your topic is…what exactly?”

  Aidan deflated across from me in the back of the library. “The Renaissance and how it compares and contrasts to modern-day society,” he said, his voice pitched almost like he was asking a question, and he dropped his head to the table. I bit back a laugh at his antics, and he looked up with a pained expression. “I take it that’s not obvious?”

  “Well…no. But it’s got good bones,” I offered with a weak smile, and he dropped his head again. This time, I couldn’t stop the soft laugh. Reaching out, I shoved his shoulder. “Hey, we’ve been over this. You’re a great writer. Seriously. It’s just your organization that’s a little off. We’ll figure it out, though, that’s why I’m here. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  “No,” he said with a sigh, sitting up with a defeated look still on his face. “But what’s gonna happen next year when you’re off at Harvard and I’m at A&M, still struggling in English 101?” He peered at his paper and muttered, “If they even take me.”

  I rolled my eyes skyward.

  Aidan was smart. Any college he applied to would accept him. The problem was he needed a scholarship. Money was tight, and unlike Stone, he didn’t think he was a strong enough player to get in on athletics. He was aiming for an academic ride, and lucky for him, his high GPA should make it possible.

  Unfortunately, writing papers was a bit of a weakness, at least when it came to organizing his thoughts, which is why we’d worked together for the past two years. Undercover, of course.

  Scanning his rough draft again, I found a jumping-off point and slid the paper back across the table. We had the entire back room to ourselves (well, other than the dust mites), and the only sound besides Aidan’s frustrated sighs was the loud ticking of the clock, so I didn’t bother lowering my voice as I pointed at the first paragraph.

  “You’re gonna be fine wherever you go, Drama King, because this introduction is strong.” I flipped a few page
s to the end and put a star next to a sentence buried in the middle of his conclusion. “It all comes down to putting things in the right order. I think this is your topic sentence. If you move it to the top, your paper will flow from there.”

  Aidan sat up straight and reread his final paragraph, his mouth moving with the words as his eyebrows drew together. When he was finished, they shot straight to his hairline, and he flipped back to the beginning, reread his intro, and grinned when his eyes came to mine. “Damn, you’re right. That’d be so much better.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who wrote it,” I said, leaning back as he made chicken-scratch notes across the page. Thank goodness the final would be typed, or we’d have a whole other issue to tackle. “And if it makes you feel any better, you’re already doing better than I am. I haven’t even started my paper yet.”

  I sighed as the crushing weight of how behind I was pressed down on my chest, and mentally added “history paper” to my mile-long to-do list for the weekend. Which, of course, got me thinking about other things I’d be doing the next three days, too. Namely, sleeping over at the Torres house.

  Tiny jackrabbits bouncing in my stomach replaced my previous stress, and a warm, gooey sensation oozed through my veins. A slow grin spread across my face. It had rarely left since yesterday’s excursion to the bookstore.

  Aidan cleared his throat, and I blinked to see him no longer writing on his paper. “You haven’t started yet?”

  By the way he’d asked that question, you’d have sworn I’d said Harry Potter was simply a mediocre book. “Nope,” I said, tilting my head in confusion. Why did he care about my history paper? The only reason he’d started his was so that we could have time to workshop it.

  “Huh. Then let me guess, you’re pulling an all-nighter tonight?”

  “Actually…” I said, drawing out the word. “No. I’m going to Fairwood for the game.”

  I smiled, recalling the many times the running back had gotten on me for missing his games the last few years, and was rewarded by Aidan gaping at me. I shifted in my chair uncomfortably.

  “So, yeah. Guess you’ll have to find something new to tease me about,” I said, my smile dimming to a half-smile/half-wince situation the more he gaped. “My reign as Official Stick in the Mud is coming to an end.”

  Instead of laughing at my admittedly unfunny joke, Aidan narrowed his eyes. Pushing to his feet, he quickly scanned the neighboring rows of dusty reference books and empty desks, then, satisfied we were alone, sat back down and said, “Tell me you’ve heard the rumors.”

  My forehead wrinkled. “Say what now?”

  He sighed. “Lily, you have to have noticed people staring. Ever since you showed up at the festival with Stone, it’s all anyone is talking about. The quarterback secretly hooking up with the nerd—their words, not mine. Seriously, has no one asked you about it?”

  A familiar feeling of dread built in my chest, and I shook my head. “N-no. I mean, I guess a couple people stared during lunch yesterday…but I figured that was because Angéla sat with us.” I swallowed down a slight wave of panic and said, “The rest of the week I ate back here.”

  I scanned my memory for anything else that could’ve jumped out. Any weird interactions or strange whispers, and came up short. Truthfully, I had been preoccupied this week, wanting to get my life back on track, and then there was my car breaking down, Angéla’s sudden declaration of friendship, and yesterday’s discovery.

  But surely, I would’ve noticed people staring at me, right?

  I dropped my head in my hands. I hadn’t been the source of gossip since Mom had gotten sick, and thinking about that time had the old feelings of anxiety swirling in my gut. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath of stale, musty air as memories of whispers, pitying looks, and awkward questions washed over me. Unwanted attention made my skin itch like I had hives—but, unlike freshman year, this was something I could control. At least in theory.

  “Stone and I didn’t go to the festival together,” I argued, forcibly relaxing my shoulders. “We just hung out there. You know that. And no hooking up is happening. We’re friends.”

  Heck, even that might’ve been an overstatement.

  Despite my recent crush revelation and that nanosecond of a moment in his truck, I was no closer to figuring out Stone’s real motives than I was two weeks ago. Did he consider me an actual friend, or was I just a challenge of sorts? I didn’t know. Yeah, he’d shared with me about Angéla, and he’d told me that sweet story at the festival about his family, and he seemed to show me a different side than the one everyone else saw. But I was the school ghost. His secrets were safe with me.

  It’s more than that, my inner romantic asserted, and I dropped my hands to the table. Was it, though? Or had I built up a bunch of tiny moments inside my head, wanting them to mean something when they didn’t?

  I raised my head and found Aidan studying me. “Since when are you friends?” he asked, pushing his paper aside. My eyes widened, pretty sure I’d been insulted, and he held up a hand. “I’m serious. A week ago, Stone asked about you in the team gym like he barely knew who you were. Then, a few days later, he’s going toe-to-toe with Cameron about you riding on the float? It doesn’t add up.”

  “Hold on. Stone asked about me in the gym?”

  Aidan gave a stiff nod, and I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. That had to have been before Stone came up with the dare. But why?

  My head swam with possibilities, and I quietly murmured, “No, it doesn’t add up.”

  He snorted skeptically, and I ground my teeth, refocusing on the current problem.

  As I leaned forward on my elbows, my confused anxiety floated away, and annoyance surged to take its place. “Two weeks ago, I started taking lessons at Viktória Torres’s studio, and the twins decided to adopt me. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know myself. But Stone and I aren’t hooking up. That’s the truth. We couldn’t be more different if we tried. But if we were, it still wouldn’t be any of your business because my social life, or lack thereof, has nothing to do with your paper, peer tutoring, or European history.”

  Throughout my outburst, Aidan’s eyes had slowly widened, and by the end of it, he was leaned back in his seat, mouth agape. I lifted my chin and discreetly let out a shaky breath, feeling a bit surprised myself.

  Old Lily would’ve thought nothing of standing up for herself if the situation warranted it, but that fearless girl was long gone, or so I’d thought. The slight tremor in my hands indicated she was at least partially still on vacay, but the thrum in my blood felt a heck of a lot like my old friend adrenaline.

  Silence fell over our table, made more noticeable by the utter stillness of our hidden alcove, and Aidan hung his head, blowing out a steady breath before looking at me.

  “You’re right,” he said, and I craned an eyebrow. “Partly. Who you date has nothing to do with history, but I’d like to think it’s somewhat my business because we’re friends.” I snorted, and he had the decency to look guilty. “Okay, I deserve that. I know we don’t hang out, and I’m weird about the guys finding out you tutor me, but, Lily, that’s about me and my issues. Believe it or not, I do consider you a friend, just like I consider Stone a friend, and because of that, I’m trying to look out for you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I rubbed my forehead, feeling a tension headache coming on. “Okay, say we were together…in this fantasy world scenario, why assume I’d get hurt? You said you’re friends with Stone. Do you make a habit of being friends with assholes?”

  He sighed like I was being purposefully dense. “Actually, I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character,” he replied, jabbing his pen against the table for emphasis. “And seriously, do you not remember what happened with him and Cameron last spring?”

  Frowning, I let my fingers fall from my face. “Not exactly,” I admitted, suddenly feeling nervous for a whole new reason. “I mean, I know they broke up, and I remember there was some sort of drama around
it, but I didn’t really pay attention to the details. That sort of stuff always seems so stupid.”

  My lack of interest in the constant soap opera surrounding me was one of the things that drove Sydney nuts. The players changed so frequently that it wasn’t worth the effort to keep up. For the first time in my life, I found myself wishing I’d clued in more.

  “What happened?”

  Aidan pressed his lips together, hesitating. Somewhere in the library, a throat cleared, and a cell phone pinged. Another series of loud ticks of the clock went by, and when he still hadn’t opened his mouth and didn’t appear as if he would, I sighed, mentally exhausted with this entire conversation.

  “Good talk. Glad we got that cleared up.”

  Cursing, he reached out and stopped me from leaving. “Look, it’s pretty much public knowledge now anyway, so I guess it’s not a big deal if I tell you. Just…for obvious reasons, we try not to talk about it around Stone.” He looked around again, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Cameron cheated.”

  My eyes widened as I plopped back on the chair, my mouth tumbling open.

  What a stupid girl.

  “It was the weekend of Spring Break. Ashley had a party, and Stone didn’t show. We found out later his dad had gotten in a car accident and was at the hospital, but at the time, no one knew where he was. Cameron swears she was drunk, but from what I saw, and what everyone else said, she wasn’t acting like it. She was just being typical Cameron, needing to be the center of attention like always, and flirting with the hottest guy around.”

  He leaned across the table. “Do you remember Noah Ruckert? Star wide-out, graduated last year?” I shook my head. “Well, trust me, he was a big deal. Almost as big as Stone. Everyone expected him to kill it at LSU, and they were already placing bets on what NFL team would snag him someday.” He laughed darkly, his mouth twisting in a cruel smirk. “Poor Noah’s stinking it up in Baton Rouge these days, though. A bad camp followed by two wildly disappointing games. Turns out, karma’s a bitch.”