But other than that, we’d been getting along okay—mainly because we were still one another’s only ally at Talmore. “You still coming to the game with me?” I asked.
“I guess. It’s better than sitting here watching Frank and Lanie make out on the couch.”
“Ugh, gross,” I said. “Don’t talk about that in the space where we eat.”
She grinned. Trying to gross each other out by talking about our parents’ lovey-dovey ways had become something of an inside joke. Or just another way to annoy each other. The two were basically one in the same for me and Harley.
“You’re not going to leave me stranded again, are you?” she asked now, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“No,” I said. “Well, not unless Rosalie wants some alone time before that lame party.” I added a cocky grin for good measure to make Harley roll her eyes.
There it was. The eye roll that I’d started to think was solely for me.
“I’m serious,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you leave me alone again—”
“I won’t.”
“But if you do—”
“Harley,” I groaned. “It happened one time. Let it go. I don’t have to take you at all, remember? You didn’t win the bet.”
“Neither did you,” she shot back.
The moment Rosalie had left on Tuesday I’d sought out Harley and told her that the bet was off. She’d actually seemed happy. Maybe even proud of me. Weird, I know. I mean, it’s not like she was really my sister, but she’d still patted my shoulder and said she was glad I’d finally wised up and realized that I actually like the girl.
The weird mushy moment had lasted approximately five seconds before we were back to bickering over what movie to watch.
I had a feeling Harley felt just as bad about betting on Rosalie as I did because she agreed readily that there was no winner and no loser. Nothing lost and nothing gained.
Although, in a sense I could have argued that I’d won, so I could have told her she had to accept Tristan the next time he asked her out.
But that would have meant that this thing with Rosalie was a bet and I couldn’t live with that.
Even if it did bring Harley torment.
Sometimes it wasn’t easy being so moral.
“You need me to go to the game with you,” Harley said. “Everyone already thinks you’re a loser, how lame would it look if you showed up to a game alone?”
I couldn’t argue that. What did one do at a football game alone? I guess I’d have to watch the game and pretend I was actually interested in sports.
Hard pass.
“I could ask someone else,” I said.
“Who?”
I hesitated. “Lars.”
She laughed and I shot her a smile. Lars still hadn’t grown on me and Harley barely gave him the time of day. I was all for befriending the loners and the losers of this school—because, you know, apparently I was one—but Lars wasn’t either of those things. He was just weird. And kind of creepy, if I was being honest.
I worked in silence for a while, trying to focus on the sauce in the pot rather than the way Rosalie still hadn’t replied to my text.
“You’re seriously not going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Harley said.
“Nothing.”
“So that’s why you’re frowning at the sauce like it just dissed your mother?”
I let out a huff of amusement and rubbed at my forehead, easing the tension there. “I just…I don’t know I feel…”
“Guilty?” Harley suggested.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s part of it.”
She was quiet and I waited for her to give me grief, although that would have been more than a little hypocritical. “Maybe you should tell her. Get it out in the open.”
I turned to look at her. “Yeah? You think?”
She made a funny face. She wasn’t sure. Neither was I. “That could go one of two ways, she could admire you for your honesty and bravery or she could…”
“Hate me forever?”
“Pretty much.” She winced as she said it. “You really like this girl, huh?”
I nodded. I really did. But once again I flashed on the way Rosalie had glanced away from me earlier, like she couldn’t bring herself to look at me. She’d looked upset or…
“She couldn’t have found out, could she?”
Harley frowned. “How could she have? The only people who knew about it were you and me and—”
“Lars,” I finished.
We stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds before Harley shook her head. “Nah. No way. The guy is a freak but he doesn’t have friends. Who would he tell?”
Right. She had a point. And yet my gut was telling me there was something wrong, and odds were it was all my fault. Well, mine and Harley’s. It was so much easier to place blame on someone else and I found myself looking for ways to do it, to ease the burden of this gnarly gnawing guilt. “You should never have challenged me in the first place. What a dumb idea.”
She arched a brow, basically saying ‘really? You’re going to go there?’ In reality what she said was, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. But no one forced you to go along with it. I just wanted to watch you crash and burn. How was I supposed to know you’d go and fall for the girl?”
I glowered at her but I knew she was right. I’d gone and turned it into a thing. I’d felt threatened and annoyed that Harley was fitting in better than me and my pride had been wounded because I wasn’t liked, let alone loved. I sighed as I leaned back against the counter top. “I should never have turned her into a challenge.”
“Why did you?” Harley’s tone was less accusatory than before. She sounded more curious than challenging. “Why’d you get so into proving you could get the girl when we all know you can always get the girl?” She’d said it with another eye roll, negating any compliment that might have been gleaned from that statement. She said it like it was an insult, actually. “You didn’t need to prove to me that people like you,” she said. “I’ve always known that girls love you and guys want to be you.”
“Of course they do.” Just not at Talmore.
That had bugged me more than I’d been willing to admit. But not because I needed to be liked. Not even because it sucked being the outcast…
“So?” she pushed. “Why did you feel the need to prove it?”
I exhaled loudly in frustration. “I don’t know. Why won’t you let it go?”
“Maybe because I want to see you happy.”
I scowled at her but it was hard to stay annoyed when she looked all sincere like that. Like she actually meant it. This was a rare glimpse of a non-ironic, non-antagonistic Harley and this Harley was oddly…nice.
She placed her hands in front of her, clasping them together like she was a doctor…or my psychiatrist. “Why was it so important to prove to me that you could get the girl?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess because…that’s all I have.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at her eyes because I knew exactly how pathetic it sounded. But that didn’t change the fact that it was the truth.
I hadn’t been into this challenge to convince Harley of anything, I’d been trying to prove it to myself. Because…because… “I’m likeable,” I said. “Charming. I’m good with people.” I listed off the traits I’d always heard myself described by, not out of arrogance but honesty. I shrugged. “If I don’t have that, what do I have? I’m just another loser who’s too stupid to get good grades and too uncoordinated to be good at sports. I’m not even that great of a musician…” Oh man, the truth was coming out and it was coming out in a bad way. Of all the people to spill my dirty dark secrets to, it had to be this girl. The one who’s always hated me. But I still couldn’t bring myself to stop. “I mean, how far can a mediocre musician get without charm, right?”
She put a hand on my arm. “Dude, I seriously think you’re underestimating yourself here.” She wrinkled her nose like she smelled so
mething rancid. “And I’m pretty sure you’re way overestimating the power of charm.”
I turned away from her, making a production out of stirring the sauce to avoid her scrutiny. The silence was awful. I kept hearing my own words and they sounded lamer and more pathetic every time they echoed back to me.
Her voice behind me took me by surprise. “You can cook,” she said.
I froze in my stirring and turned slowly, not quite sure I heard her right. “What?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I said, you can cook.”
“And?”
“And that’s awesome,” she said. “I don’t know any other teen guys who not only know how to cook but are so passionate about it as you are.”
“I wouldn’t say I was passionate,” I muttered. That definitely sounded lame.
“I would,” she said. “And I’m grateful for it every day because I hate to cook, Frank is the worst chef on the planet—don’t tell him I said that—and your mom, well…”
She grimaced and I nodded my understanding. My mom had many talents but culinary arts was not one of them. “So yeah, that’s kind of awesome. And the fact that you take care of all of us by feeding us, that’s even better.”
I wasn’t sure what to say so I ended up fidgeting oddly with the ladle and spattering sauce on the floor in the process.
“And…” She took a deep breath, not quite looking at me. “You’re not the worst stepbrother, I suppose. Aside from ditching me at the diner, you’ve been good about, you know…listening and taking me places and, you know…” Now she was the one fidgeting oddly. “Hanging out.”
The awkwardness was beyond awful. For both of us, I imagined. Someone had to mock somebody and it had to happen quick. “What other choice do I have?” I said. “It’s either hang out with you or Lars.”
She grinned and then I did too. After a second we both burst out laughing.
“Nice,” she said. “Real nice. Way to ruin a moment.”
“A moment of awkward,” I said.
She shrugged. “Yeah, well…”
“But thanks,” I added. “Awkward or not, that was…sweet.”
We both cringed at my choice of words and then Harley was back to herself, practical and borderline annoying. “You should talk to her.”
“Yeah?” I asked, stirring the sauce. “You think I should confess?”
She shrugged. “Honesty is key in a relationship, right? At least, that’s what they say.”
“Maybe.” If nothing else, I at least needed to see her, make sure she was all right. And besides, I’d promised her I’d go to the game.
So, after an early dinner, Harley and I headed to the game. She was oddly quiet in the car beside me, shifting and fidgeting the closer we got to the stadium.
“He’s going to be on the field, you know,” I said. “You won’t have to talk to him.”
She shot me a glare. “Who?”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Fine. You want to play dumb? I’ll go along with that.”
She just bit her lip and stared straight ahead.
When we got there the stands were packed and I was reminded yet again of how few friends I had at this school.
None, to be exact. Well, not unless you counted Harley, who was hovering at my side like she was one step away from bolting.
I spotted Rosalie on the sidelines, looking distracted, her eyes unfocused like she wasn’t even really there. As I watched her—this odd, intriguing, layered girl with so many hidden depths and such a good heart—I realized that I’d been right all along.
I didn’t care if everyone liked me. Would it be nice to be popular? Sure. Anyone who said otherwise was lying. Life was easier when you were liked. But I was through trying, because in the end, I’d take one real friendship with this girl over being beloved by everyone else.
There was only one person in this school whose opinion mattered to me and she was standing out there looking like perfection and watching the rest of the world like she was a player on the sidelines.
I didn’t want that for her. I didn’t want that for me. Screw the rest of this school, this girl and I…we had a story ahead of us. We had lives to lead and I sure as heck hoped it would be together.
Harley was a trooper and stuck by my side, even though I caught some popular girls in the crowd waving her over for her to join them. “You should go,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “They only want to get to know me because Tristan—”
I nudged her elbow when she abruptly stopped talking. “Tristan…?”
She shook her head. “Because he’s apparently made it his mission to annoy me, and they want to know why.”
“Uh huh.”
I stared at her profile for a second as she pretended to watch the game. I knew very well that she cared about the outcome of this game as much as I did. Which was to say…not at all. The amount of school spirit between the two of us could be measured in microns.
We were both just waiting for it to end so I could find Rosalie and talk to her, but when I tried to head to the sidelines to catch her before she left, I was blocked by one of Rosalie’s friends—the petite redhead with a pouty expression and a wicked glare. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I looked around to make sure—yup, she was talking to me.
She nodded at Harley. “Hey, Harley, what’s up?”
Harley glanced up at me. “Um, hey Allie. We just wanted to talk to Rosalie.”
She smiled sweetly and gestured toward the other cheerleaders. “You are welcome to talk to Rosalie whenever you want, Harley.” She whipped her head around to face me squarely. “But you? No way. I think you’ve done enough.”
I felt like I’d been slapped, but that was nothing compared to the way my stomach dropped down to my toes as I realized with absolute certainty.
She knew.
I heard Harley’s sharp intake of air and realized that she knew it too. “How…?” she started.
Before she could finish, Allie said, “You guys should have asked someone why Lars is such an outcast.”
Harley and I looked to one another uncertainly.
“He lives to spread rumors,” she said. “Nothing you say around him is safe.”
Allie walked away and I heard Harley muttering curses under her breath, along with some clever forms of torture that she planned to enact on Lars. Meanwhile I was frantically scanning the sidelines for any sign of Rosalie but she’d slipped away sometime when Allie had been talking to us.
“You need to talk to her,” Harley said.
“Way to state the obvious.”
She turned to me. “Do you know where to find her?”
I let out a sigh of frustration as I realized I knew exactly where she was heading tonight. “She’ll be at Danny’s house.”
Harley made a funny noise in her throat and I knew she was thinking what I was. There was very little chance I was getting out of this evening without having my butt kicked from here to California.
“Right then,” she said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Looks like you and me are going to a party.”
15
Rosalie
I didn’t like parties on the best of days, and right now?
All I wanted was to curl up in bed and think. My head was spinning and rumors were swirling and I…I just needed a minute to myself. But between the game and the fact that my house was about as welcoming as a graveyard right now, instead of being curled up in bed in my pajamas, I was stuck standing between two football players and sipping a lukewarm beer that I’d been nursing for the past hour. Basically, I was just biding my time until I could leave.
Oh yeah, and I was also avoiding looking at my phone like it was my job.
It wasn’t like I was mad at Conner—okay, fine, maybe I was a little mad. But really, did he have to tell Harley and Lars that I was the one to ask? I twisted the cup in my hands and stared into the amber liquid. My gut told me he hadn’t been so mean ab
out it. He probably hadn’t said I’d begged him, right? That was just the nasty gossip mill at work… Right?
“Can I talk to you?” Danny’s voice behind me made me stiffen. The two guys I’d been sort of hiding between looked down at me as if just now noticing I’d been standing there. All three of us turned to see Danny hovering nearby with an uncharacteristically serious look on his face, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
I would have loved to say no, but that would have been petty. Worse, it would have been weak, and I was determined not to be that anymore. I’d rather be the hardened witch I was purported to be rather than a weakling who didn’t stand up for herself.
So, instead of finding an excuse to run away, I followed Danny toward the basement, which his parents had turned into a rec room that was basically Danny’s domain. His parents were the “cool” parents—the rare kind who actually condoned parties and even a keg, just as long as everyone who was drinking had a designated driver or was planning to crash.
He found a spot that wasn’t crushed with people before turning to me with that sober look that was so not like him. I was used to Danny looking smug and confident, not…this. Disappointed or confused, whatever it was it made him look more like his true age and less like a cocky football star.
“I can’t believe you did that to me,” he said without preamble.
He was referring to the night at the diner. I should have known this was coming. For a solid week he’d gone out of his way to ignore me. But the problem was, we’d been sort of ignoring each other ever since the breakup so he had to make a point of ignoring me this week…which kind of defeated the purpose as far as I was concerned. He made concerted efforts to seek me out and then snub me. Super mature behavior. Seriously, what was I thinking breaking up with this gem?
He wanted me to apologize, that much was clear. That was definitely not happening. “You can’t keep acting like I’m your property,” I said.
He looked so confused I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “But…we’re getting back together.”
I stared at him, trying to see if he was serious.
Charming the Cheerleader (The Bet Duet Book 1) Page 11
