Part 3 (1/2)
”I'm not stubborn. I just have no interest in getting in a car with some guy I don't know.”
”You know me. I'm the guy who's always early.” Luke pulled the bike and grabbed my arm to drag me under the canopy. ”It won't kill you to let someone do something nice for you. We toss this in the truck. I drive you home. You don't die of pneumonia.”
”What's going on here?”
I fought the little smirk creasing my lips as Chris's voice sounded from behind me. Finally my day was heading in the right direction.
”He was just-” I stopped dead at the sight of Chris, his arm slung over Cheryl's shoulder, watching Luke and I tug the bike back and forth. They looked far too cozy. They looked comfortable. They looked together.
”I was just giving her a ride home.” Luke pulled the bike from my numb fingers. ”I have a truck we can throw this in.”
Didn't he say that already? And what was that buzzing in my ears?
Luke watched me with that wordless gaze again. ”With the rain and all,” he said after a long, quiet moment.
Why was everyone looking at me? I glanced at Cheryl, her eyes taking in my soaked T-s.h.i.+rt and battered Red Sox cap. Even after running captain's tryouts for a couple hours she looked like every teen flick's stereotype of a cheer captain. I wondered if their coach took that into consideration when choosing her.
”We can drive her.” Chris stepped toward us, forcing Cheryl along with him.
Thank goodness Chris was finally taking charge.
”How's she going to get her bike home, then?”
”You can take that for her, Parker.” Chris smirked at him. Chris liked to win. A lot.
”If I'm taking the bike, I might as well take the girl, too.”
Uh-oh.
”Chris.” I had to give Cheryl credit for trying to keep the whine out of her voice. ”If you let Parker drive,” she waved a manicured hand in my general direction, ”her home, we can go straight to China Dynasty.”
I felt my head swivel toward Chris. He had said he'd talk to me later and now he was taking her out to eat?
”That makes sense,” Luke jumped into their conversation. ”You guys go to your little dinner date thing. I'll take Stats Girl home.”
Dear G.o.d, did no one know my name?
Cheryl squeezed Chris's arm. I could see him calculating the cost of not making it to dinner at the right time with the right girl versus winning this fight with the guy trying to take his spot.
Hopefully, spending time with me was on that scale somewhere. Or, maybe it wasn't. The whole tryout thing was having me second guess the motives of just about everyone involved in The Plan.
Okay, maybe not my own motives. I glanced at Chris hoping his right answer and my right answer were matchy-matchy.
”Alright. As long as she gets home, right?” Chris gave me a quick wink and turned to lead Cheryl out into the rain.
So, no matchy-matchy. I glanced between the pseudo-couple and reminded myself I'd signed up for this. Reminded myself that the rules of the game were clear. Reminded myself not to shove Cheryl into the puddle at the end of the walk even if she was looking to get more out of this fake-date-thing than I'd expected. Her Ashburk Tech boyfriend was an intangible, but Chris? Chris was the hottest guy in school. Chris was arm candy. And Cheryl wasn't stupid.
Cheryl dug in her heels. ”Why don't you go get the car?”
She gave him a smile that seemed to say, That wasn't really a question and I know you're going to do it anyway, so hurry up.
”Oh, yeah.”
He didn't even look my way, just ducked his head and sprinted into the curtain of water. Luke hefted my bike and set the crossbar on his shoulder.
”Why don't you wait here, too? I'll be right back.” He stepped from the protection of the canopy, his T-s.h.i.+rt instantly soaked through. His head swung around as I followed, trying my best to ignore the downpour. I'd tried small talk with guys earlier. I had no interest in testing small talk with cheerleaders... especially this one. I so didn't need to get a reminder about pre-school-year-couples from Cheryl. Water seemed the safer bet.
”That's okay. I'll just make a run for it.”
I caught the crooked grin he gave me before I lowered the bill of my cap. He beat me to the truck and lifted my bike into the back before opening the door for me. I jumped in and reached to close it, but he was still there, standing in the rain and pus.h.i.+ng it shut.
Slamming the driver's side door behind him, he looked as though he wanted to shake like a wet dog but settled for pus.h.i.+ng his dark, drenched locks out of his eyes. He leaned across the stick s.h.i.+ft and reached over my knees to drop the glove compartment open. Pus.h.i.+ng aside papers, napkins, and a folded map, he grabbed a key on a red and silver macrame chain and started the engine with a heavy sounding roar.
Thud-thud. The double winds.h.i.+eld wipers crossed, barely missing one another on the downward swoop, shoving the water off the gla.s.s. Thud-thud.
”So, do you live over there?” he asked. ”Where you were running?”
”Head toward the old wooden bridge.”
The rain beat down steadily, forcing him to drive almost as slowly as I would have biked anyway.
”I'm going to try this one more time,” he said, reaching to test the defroster. ”Hi. I'm Luke.”
The truck slowed as he glanced my way.
Rolling my eyes, since I was pretty sure he couldn't see them, I answered. ”Amy.”
”Amy?” He dragged my name out in one of those annoying fill-in-the-blank ways.
”Amy Whalen.”
”Amy Whalen. It's good to meet you.” He c.o.c.ked his head, lowering it in a way that had his hair dropping toward his eyes again. ”Makes sense. I asked a couple guys and they came up with either Beth or Amiline. Is Amy a nickname?”
Beth? Amiline? Seriously?
I'd been at Ridge View since fifth grade, and that was the best they could come up with. I must have been more invisible than I thought if they'd missed my name being called in cla.s.ses for oh... six years.
”Nope. I'm just plain Amy.”
The old truck bounced as we crossed over the slightly older wooden bridge.
”Take this next right.”
Luke slowed and studied the turnoff. ”Here?”
I nodded before realizing he couldn't look at me. ”Yeah. But I can walk if you'd like.”