by Ally Mathews
After that, he went over every book on the reading list in great detail. Just when she was about to fall asleep out of sheer boredom, Garret passed her a note. A note folded in the shape of those paper footballs the boys used to play with in middle school, of course. The teacher, whose name she still couldn’t remember, was apparently mesmerized by the sound of his own voice, so she went ahead and opened it. In big letters across the middle of the paper, it said, “Lunch?”
Seriously, who went through that much trouble to make a one word note when he could’ve just asked? Although, maybe he needed something to do to keep from falling asleep, too.
She couldn’t decide how to answer. Should she say no, so she could talk to her friends before they heard rumors, or should she make Garret go to lunch with her friends? She didn’t know if she could handle sitting at a table with his friends. They’d all stare at her and wonder what she was doing there. Or worse…
Then again, he probably felt the same way about sitting with her friends. Either way, one of them was going to be very uncomfortable. It would be smarter for them to eat separately until their friends got used to the idea of them together. Their plan wouldn’t work if no one believed they were dating.
Garret grabbed her wrist just as the bell rang and ran his thumb back and forth over it. A whole mess of butterflies took off in her stomach.
“Stop obsessing. We’ll eat outside.” He stood and shifted so he was holding her hand. “I was afraid your head was going to start spinning there for a minute.”
It was disconcerting the way he seemed to be able to read her so easily. “It’s just that everything seems so complicated now that we’ve gone public.”
He led her out of the classroom and to the nearest outside exit. “Actually, it’s pretty simple. I had to tell my team something, since they saw me chase after you during the game, so I told them we met at the dance studio when I dropped my sister off for class, and we started talking, and discovered we both like to watch old Twilight Zone episodes. I said we’re just friends for now, but if they leave us alone, it might turn into more. So if anything, they think I’m pursuing you.”
He was already giving her crazy ideas about them being together for real. What would it be like if he was pursuing her for real? She took a deep breath to steady herself. “When did you have time to talk to the team today?”
“During first period. We have Athletics so Coach can hold an unofficial second practice if he thinks we need it. If not, we just lift weights and goof around.”
Good grief. She rolled her eyes. “That figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come on. You guys get away with everything. You could probably burn the school down and nobody would care as long as you win State.”
He raised a brow in response. That was it.
Now she felt like a jerk, especially given his calm reaction. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault the school plays favorites.”
He squeezed her hand, and the tension left her shoulders. There were more important things to discuss. “So, The Twilight Zone? Old or new?”
“The older the better.”
“At least there’s something we can agree on. Favorite episode?”
“‘Time Enough at Last.’”
“That’s everyone’s favorite. What else have you got?”
He crossed his arms. “Eye of the Beholder.”
He really was a fan of the show. “All right. You’ve proved yourself.”
“How do I know you’re a true fan?”
“Because I wouldn’t have quizzed you otherwise. Duh. Now I need to go talk to my friends, because I had actual classes this morning and haven’t had time to do it yet. I’m sure they’ve already heard rumors.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
She shook her head faster than even Dozer could’ve. “No. Nope. Not at all. Hard pass.”
There was that half smile again. “I’m going to pretend that didn’t hurt.”
“Would you have wanted me with you when you talked to the team this morning?”
“That’s different.”
Her hands flew to her hips. My friends don’t deserve the same courtesy? “How?”
“It’s a guy place. No girls allowed.”
Aha. “Well, this is our place. No over-privileged football players allowed.”
“Not even if I dye my hair or shave my head?”
“Nope. At least not yet. They’ll need time to get used to the idea of us before you try to force your way in.”
“So there is an us?” His lips curved into his genuine smile.
It was different from his regular smile. His eyes lit up somehow, sending her heart into overdrive. “Not if you keep being so annoying.”
“All right. Then go get it over with. See you later?”
“Probably.” She pulled her phone out and texted Audrey. As she’d suspected, they were in the art room. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed Garret watched her, leaning against the wall as if he had no intention of going anywhere. She shot him a smile, cursed her quivery stomach, and rushed down the hallway.
There was an exterior exit from the art room so all of the trash could be taken straight out to the dumpsters, but it was locked from the outside. She banged on the door, and it popped open almost immediately.
“There you are, Izzy. I thought maybe you’d gone over to the dark side and were having lunch with the football team.”
“Very funny, Jeremy.” She glanced around. Trevor and Stacy were also there, and of course Audrey already knew what was really going on. “So I guess you guys are wondering what I’m doing hanging around with Garret Mitchell.”
Trevor shrugged. “Hey, it’s none of our business if you want to go slumming. High school is the time for experimentation.”
She opened her mouth to defend Garret then clamped it shut. These were her friends, the only ones who had always been there for her, and they deserved an explanation, even if she couldn’t give them the real one. She’d already told Audrey, and it wasn’t fair to Garret to share his secrets with everyone. How did this get so complicated?
“Look, I met him at the dance studio. His little sister is in a class I teach. We’re just friends. Acquaintances, really.”
Jeremy bumped her shoulder. “If it’s nothing, why are you even talking about him?”
“Because I figured there’d be rumors about The Untouchable hanging out with Mr. Hotshot.”
“Oh, there are. But you don’t need to explain yourself to us. We’ve got your back. Right, guys?”
Everybody nodded.
“Thanks.” She shot Jeremy a huge smile.
He shrugged. “You know how I feel about him. Just be careful. I don’t want to have to rough him up.”
Jeremy was almost as tall as Garret but about half his size. It definitely wouldn’t be a fair fight.
“Don’t listen to him. Go ahead and use and lose him. Get yours and then dump him.”
“Stacy!”
“What? He’s a football player. All brawn and no brains. You’ll get tired of each other soon enough. Just make sure you’re the one who breaks it off.”
Geez. Though they all resented the extra privileges the football players got, she hadn’t realized her friends were so negative about them personally. The team hadn’t asked for all of the special privileges they got. That’s just the way it was in this town, and probably in most of Texas. Didn’t she get the same type of treatment because of her father’s position? Her head was starting to ache.
“Well, since you guys don’t seem bothered, I need another favor. It’s kind of a big one. Can you help me paint the scenery for the fall production?” All of her friends were artists, and they’d helped with the stage decorations for nearly every one of the studio’s shows.
“What show?” Trevor asked.
“A variation of Sleeping Beauty. I’ll find some canvas and plywood, and you guys let me know what you need in the way of supplies.
”
“You might want to ask your new friend about plywood,” Jeremy said. “They tend to have a lot of it lying around at the salvage yard.”
They all glanced around at each other.
“And how do you know that?” Trevor asked.
“They let me have all the scrap metal I want.”
Okay, now it was starting to make sense. Jeremy was known for his artistic skills, and especially metal sculptures and murals. He already had offers for full-ride scholarships to several art schools. What was weird was that Garret hadn’t mentioned anything to her about being friends with him, though maybe that was because he still felt guilty about keeping Jeremy from getting into the Art Institute.
“Have you decided which offer you’re going to accept?” she asked.
“I think I’m just going to make a go of it on my own.”
“You’re going to pass up a full scholarship to art school? Why?”
He shrugged. “I guess for the same reason you’re skipping college to join a dance group. I can sell my art now, so why spend four years in school before I start making money?”
“It’s completely paid for. Why wouldn’t you at least try it?”
“You tell me. I’m pretty sure you could get a full ride dance scholarship if you actually applied to some schools. Not that you need it, of course.”
There was a very slight but real edge to his voice. Even with her oldest friend, her father’s money forced unwanted space between them.
“Our situations aren’t the same. I plan to go to school, but not until later on. Ballet Americana is interested in me now. It seems stupid to risk losing my chance by putting it off. You’ll be able to be an artist for as long as you want, but ballerinas have career-ending injuries all the time. Plus, if I go to school, my dad will make me go to one of the Texas public schools. Can you believe he even suggested I try out to be one of the Dallas Cowboys’ cheerleaders to keep me here?”
Jeremy grinned. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a good opportunity to travel and all, but all he sees is voting demographics when he comes up with this stuff.”
“I’d hate to be the guy who tries to pinch your booty while you’re wearing those tiny shorts.” They both laughed.
“Seriously, though. There are so many reasons why you should go to school. It’s free, you could learn from other artists, I bet you’ll have exhibits, which would give you a following of people who want to buy your art, and you can get the heck out of here. I don’t see a downside.”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll consider accepting one of my offers if you’ll at least apply to some schools. Let’s keep our options open. Who knows, maybe we’ll both change our minds. Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook hands.
Now he had her thinking. She was confident in her abilities, but she’d never had any real competition here. What if she joined the company but wasn’t good enough to be the prima ballerina? Maybe there were things she didn’t know she didn’t know. Maybe it would be better to go to school first and audition after she graduated. Maybe she could attend a school near where Garret ended up so they could see each other. She started to smile at the thought, then gasped.
Where had that idea come from? He was slowly creeping into every part of her life, and she liked it. She liked him a lot more than she should for a fake relationship. Warmth spread through her just thinking about him. The question was, how did he feel about her? It seemed like he genuinely liked her, but with no other experience to go by, she couldn’t be certain.
“Izzy?”
She shook her head to clear it. “Yes?”
“Will you promise me you won’t get in too deep with Garret?”
Her stomach lurched. “Why?”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt. You’re a watercolor, and he’s an oil painting. Let him in too far, and he’ll suffocate you. If it comes down to having to make a choice between you and his team, he’ll choose them every time.”
“I thought you two were still friends. What aren’t you telling me?”
He bit his lip then shook his head. “Nothing. I just can’t see things working out between you two.”
He squeezed her hand then headed out the back door.
Izzy didn’t know what to think. Jeremy wasn’t someone who exaggerated. It wasn’t a surprise that Garret was loyal to his teammates. She already knew that. But why did Jeremy think he’d be forced to choose between her and the team? Confessing to her friends was supposed to make her feel better, but instead she was more uneasy.
Chapter Eleven
Garret had known Senator Oster’s house was big, and Isabelle giving him a code to open the gate at the end of their driveway had been another hint about how rich they were, but he was still overwhelmed when it came into view. All the houses on his street would probably fit inside it. Several of his teammates lived on this side of town, but none of their houses compared to this. It could easily be a hotel. He’d been excited to see Isabelle, but his anticipation slipped away with the realization of how different their lives were.
Unsure where to park, he pulled into the circular drive at the front of the house and left his vintage Mustang in a spot where it couldn’t be seen from inside the house. Someday he’d have it fully restored, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. He straightened his shoulders and walked up and rang the doorbell, then exhaled in relief when Isabelle answered the door.
“You didn’t mention that you live in a palace.”
She rolled her eyes at him, a gesture he’d come to expect from her. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. He was used to seeing her in skin-tight dance clothes, but he rarely saw her outside of the studio or school. The short dress she wore hugged her in all the right places, and his heart thrummed in response.
“It’s not close to being a palace, but it is way too big for two people. And most of the time it’s just me here.” She waved him into the two-story foyer. “C’mon. Let’s head up to the media room so we can watch the partnering videos. Maybe if we have extra time we can watch an episode of Twilight Zone.”
“Is this like the carrot and the stick thing from history? You trying to reward me?”
She bit back a grin. “Maybe.”
They walked through the marble entrance toward the kitchen. She went in to get something, and he stopped in the doorway. Something poked him in the back. The hair on his neck rose. He turned.
“Holy crap.” It was a huge dog. He patted it on the head, and when it didn’t try to eat him, he scratched behind its ear. The dog flopped to the ground and rolled over, so he gave it a belly rub.
“Roley is an attention whore. Now that you’ve petted her, she’s going to trail you all over the house.”
He followed Isabelle toward a huge curved staircase, but when he put his foot on the first step, a large projectile smacked into his stomach, nearly knocking him down.
“Oof. Are there any more of these things around?”
Isabelle patted the second giant dog. “Dozer is just doing his job. He actually guards us. But Roley, she’d happily let someone steal the entire contents of the house as long as he was willing to pet her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to rob you.” Hearing her name, Roley poked him in the back of his thigh. Maybe she wanted him to go up the stairs faster. No. Something wet seeped through his jeans. “Isabelle?”
“Yes?”
“Your dog just used me as a human napkin.”
She laughed so hard she snorted then smacked her hand over her mouth. He’d make her pay for that later. “There’s a towel around here somewhere.”
Forget his fears about her dad. Either of those dogs could kill him and eat him, leaving no evidence for anyone to find. Not to mention, there were hundreds of places to dispose of his body in the house alone.
They continued up the stairs, and when they reached the top, she threw him a small towel. It was too late, though—the drool had alre
ady soaked through to his skin, but he wiped the dog’s mouth so she couldn’t do it again.
They followed a long hallway with gleaming wood floors to what she had called the media room.
His entire house would fit in just this room. The screen was huge, easily as big as the smaller screen at the Brinson Movie House, and the walls were carpeted to muffle the sound. There were twelve theater-style chairs with built-in cup holders, and a real popcorn machine and soda fountain lined the far wall. Speakers were strategically mounted along the ceiling.
“Isabelle.”
She turned to face him. “Why don’t you call me Izzy like everybody else?”
“Because I want to stand out from everyone else.”
Crap. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Now more than ever, the differences between their lives seemed overwhelming, but as strange as it was even to him, there was a pull between them that he couldn’t ignore. Even when she’d first tried to blackmail him, he’d been drawn to her. But they were only fake dating, so none of it mattered.
But for some reason, it did.
The silence was heavy between them until she finally spoke. “He built this room for me. So I could watch my mother’s movies on the big screen.”
His throat was suddenly dry. All the money in the world couldn’t bring her mother back. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I know it’s over the top, but, well…”
Great. Now he’d made her feel bad because her dad was filthy rich. “So where are these magic videos that are going to turn us into the world’s best dancing partners?”
She went over to a huge control panel on the wall and plugged her phone into it. “I’m just going to stream from the internet, but if you’re nice to me, I might invite you to watch a real movie sometime.”
“I’d like that.” At least they’d moved away from the topic of her mom.
