Just Friends

  “Dustin.” I rest my hand over his, ending the shredding. “You should’ve never got into a fight with him.”

  “You don’t understand.” Dustin pulls his hand from underneath mine. “I couldn’t let him get away with what he said about you.”

  Unease settles over me like a dark, foreboding cloud. “What did he say?”

  Dustin shakes his head. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Come on. Please?”

  “I shouldn’t.” His voice is firm. “But you deserve to know.” He hesitates for the quickest second. “He was joking, saying he would take bets on how fast he could get into your pants.”

  “Take bets?” How disgusting. “Are you serious?”

  “He’s a jerk, Livvy. That asshole doesn’t deserve you.”

  “He doesn’t have me,” I murmur. Dustin’s head jerks up his eyes wide and I try to smile but fail. Maybe smiling isn’t the right thing to do at this moment. I’m pissed that Ryan would say such a thing. What a pig. “We’re not together.”

  “You were with him at the party.”

  “I didn’t come with him. I went with Amanda Winters.”

  Dustin leans back in his seat. “I didn’t know you were friends with Amanda.”

  “We’ve been hanging out.” Now it’s my turn to shrug.

  “But you went out with Ryan Saturday night.”

  I frown. “How do you know that?”

  Our pizzas are delivered to our table and the server guy is over-the-top attentive, asking us if we need anything else and wanting to make sure our pizzas were properly cooked to order. I practically want to throw a napkin at him to get him to leave, and finally whatever Dustin says works because the guy is gone and now it’s just the two of us once more.

  Alone.

  “Em told me she saw you two together. Well, that she saw Ryan drop you off at your house,” Dustin says before taking a giant bite of his pizza.

  I watch him eat, picking a piece of chicken off my pizza and popping it into my mouth. “We just hung out Saturday. It wasn’t anything major.”

  “But you like him.”

  I duck my head, my cheeks hot. “I shouldn’t.”

  “No, you really shouldn’t,” Dustin agrees a little too passionately.

  “Why does everyone hate him?” I lift my head, hoping I’ll get a straight answer. An honest one.

  “He’s a douche. I think you know it too. You’re just attracted to him or whatever.” Dustin’s cheeks turn ruddy, making me realize this conversation is just as awkward and weird for him as it is for me. Despite our being friends for years, he likes me. We’ve been intimate together. And now here we are at a crossroads, with neither of us knowing which way to go next.

  “So you’re seeing Em now.” When he sends me a questioning look, I continue. “She told me she was at your house.”

  “You talked to her?” He sounds shocked, but I guess I shouldn’t blame him.

  “She didn’t give me much choice. You know Em.” We share a secret smile because boy, do we both know Em. Though he knows her a little more intimately now…

  Ugh. My wayward thoughts make me crazy.

  “Nothing happened between us. I was still really pissed off about Friday’s fight and she was just trying to make me feel better,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring in that typical Dustin way of his.

  Yet his words don’t calm or reassure me. They make me anxious. It feels like Em has taken my place. I normally would’ve been the one who went to Dustin’s house to make sure he was all right. Now she was doing it. She was being his safe place and I’m the one he got into fights over.

  I’m selfish for feeling this way. For thinking this way. I miss Dustin. I want to keep our friendship. Maybe deep down inside I like that he’s always there for me, that he has a crush on me and that I’m so comfortable with him. That I know if I wanted to, I could tell him I want to be with him and he’d agree.

  But then I remember he’s been with Em and I can’t believe she broke Girl Code so easily and that he sort of cheated on me with her. Or she sort of cheated on me with him.

  God, see? It makes no sense. My positive thoughts and silly hopes all go to shit as reality smacks me right in the face.

  I finally nibble on a piece of pizza, full of regret over my appetite leaving me. I watch as Dustin basically inhales his pizza in a matter of minutes and starts staring longingly at mine.

  “I thought you hated veggies and chicken on pizza,” I tease him as I pluck another piece of chicken off my pizza and eat it.

  “Normally I do, but I’m starving. You gonna eat it?”

  I shake my head and he slides my plate on top of his, digging in. “If I ate as much as you, I’d be as big as a house.”

  “You would not,” he says between mouthfuls.

  “Would too. You’re a human vacuum.” We’ve fallen into our natural habits and it feels so right. Talking with him, watching him—despite the black eye, it all seems so normal.

  “Livvy.” He shoves the plates out of his way and reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. “I’m sorry for what happened between Em and I. I don’t expect your forgiveness or expect you to say that everything’s okay, because you shouldn’t say that. And if you’re not over what I did, I totally get that too. Just know I feel bad. I never meant to hurt you. It was all a…terrible mistake.”

  Sounds familiar. I called us a mistake. And at the time we felt like one. I didn’t want to tie myself down to just one guy. More like I didn’t want to tie myself down to Dustin, and I know that’s what he wants. He thinks I’m it for him. He’d never say that out loud and holy shit, I sound like a total egotistical asshole, but it’s true.

  Dustin has our lives planned out. And I want to try to take a different road. I still want to. That hasn’t changed.

  “Does Em feel the same way?” I pull my hands out from under his but keep them on the table, and he does the same.

  He hesitates and I take a sip of my soda, hating how my anxiousness feels like it’s eating me alive. “I don’t know how she feels.”

  “Do you like her?” Oh God, I can’t believe I just asked him that.

  “Not like I like you,” he murmurs, stretching out his index finger to gently rub it across mine.

  I feel that tiny touch like he stroked my entire body.

  I’m sitting on the bleachers after school, a cool breeze washing over me and sending my hair flying across my face. I push it out of my eyes, my gaze zeroing in on Ryan out on the field. Their coach is yelling at the top of his lungs, blowing his whistle what feels like every two seconds, and his barking voice is giving me a headache.

  But I’m not going anywhere. I need to talk to Ryan and it’s like he knows. He knows he’s done wrong and he’s avoiding me like I’m an ultra-contagious sexually transmitted disease.

  The boy is going to have to face me sometime. I need to ask him if he really made a bet he could get into my panties.

  Boys are so awful.

  The varsity cheerleading team is on the sidelines, running through their routine and shouting constant positive reinforcement statements at each other like, “You’ve got this!” and “Don’t give up now!” They’re working on their stunts as their sassy and perfect ponytails bounce in the wind, and honestly? They’re fascinating to watch. All kicking tanned legs and precise head movements, their arms sharp as they swing through the air. They are the complete opposite of the football team—which looks like a scrambling mess—and I can’t help but find it amusing.

  Even the band is out on the opposite end of the field, running through drills and formations, the tuba players colliding with each other every single time, making the band teacher lose his shit as he yells himself hoarse. Everything that’s happening now is so straight out of a teen movie it’s not even funny, and I sit there on the cold metal bench, a secret smile curling my lips despite my irritation with Ryan.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I look down to see Amanda waving at
me as she runs up the steps, her pounding feet loud on the old bleacher steps. I’m the only one sitting this high and she scoots in right next to me, flashing a giant smile in my direction as she blows out a long breath.

  “I’m waiting for Ryan to finish practice,” I tell her as she runs both hands through her long hair, tugging out the tangles. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was missing being in band so I thought I’d come out and watch them,” she says, though her gaze is fixed on the football players.

  Specifically Tuttle.

  “Uh huh.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “More like you’re spying on Tuttle. What did you two talk about after I left you this morning?”

  “Nothing.” Her cheeks turn the faintest pink and I know she’s full of crap. “He just flirted with me like he always does and then I went to class.”

  “You like him.”

  She shakes her head, her gaze meeting mine. “No, I don’t. He’s awful. He screws anything that moves. And if he’s not having sex with a girl, he’s asking for a blowjob or a hand job or God knows what.”

  “Then why does he seem so interested in you?” I wasn’t saying it to be mean, but seriously. Why did Tuttle seem so into Amanda?

  “I don’t know.” Amanda’s gaze returns to the field, to the football players, to Tuttle. “I think he just likes to give me a hard time. That’s all.”

  There’s more to it than that, but if she’s not ready to admit anything, then I’m not going to pry. She’ll open up to me eventually.

  Hopefully.

  “What are you going to talk to Ryan about? The fight?” she asks.

  I nod. “I went to lunch with Dustin.”

  “You did?” She sounds shocked. “What did he say?”

  I fill her in on what happened, what Dustin said. She listens quietly, her expression equal parts sympathetic and indignant on my behalf. I love that I can talk to her and she seems truly interested, when Em would always get distracted or even out and out tell me she was bored.

  “Why do you think Ryan kept it from you?” she asks once I’m finished.

  “Probably because he knew how pissed I’d be when I found out.”

  “He seems like the type who wants to cause trouble though, you know?” She makes a little face. “From everything you’ve told me and what I’ve witnessed, he doesn’t act like he’d care if you knew or not. Actually, I think he’d want you to find out.”

  My gaze goes to Ryan just as he tears his helmet off in obvious anger and it goes flying across the grass. His hair is a mess and he’s covered in sweat, his scowl noticeable even from the nosebleed seats. He lifts the hem of his practice jersey to wipe at his face and I catch a flash of his perfect abs.

  I squeeze my thighs together to ease the sudden ache there. I’m so mad at him yet he’s so freaking hot.

  “He sends me mixed messages,” I tell her, my gaze still fixed on Ryan as he grabs a water bottle and chugs it. “One minute he acts totally into me and the next he’s avoiding me. He’s…weird.”

  “Hmm.” She presses her lips together like she’s repressing what she really wants to say.

  “What do you mean, hmm?” I turn to look her.

  “I don’t know. When guys act like that they’re usually hiding something. Like my ex Thad. He would play that game with me and it turned out he was trying to hide the fact that he was messing around with my best friend.” The bitterness in her tone is obvious.

  “Not every guy cheats, Amanda,” I remind her gently.

  “Yeah, but a lot of them do. And I don’t want to be mean, but I wouldn’t put it past Ryan to cheat, not that you two are even really together. Didn’t he say that to you?”

  Yeah. He did.

  “Look at him. He’s gorgeous and rich and already part of the popular crowd, and he’s only been at school for a week. He’s going to surpass Tuttle soon for the most popular senior boy,” Amanda continues.

  “I don’t think Tuttle likes him,” I say.

  “I know Jordan doesn’t like him.” When I look at her, her cheeks are rosy. “What? He told me.”

  “When?”

  “Just watch out for Ryan,” Amanda says, like she knows what she’s talking about. “He’s probably up to no good.”

  She’s most likely right, but she’s talking with all the authority of a girl who’s in with the popular crowd and she’s not. She’s just Amanda Winters, former band geek, current smart girl and possible crush object of one Jordan Tuttle.

  Hmm. Maybe I should give Amanda more credit.

  We stay pretty quiet through the rest of practice. The cheerleaders leave first, and then the band clears the field. But the football coaches won’t let up. They’re relentless in demanding the boys run through a play again. And again.

  And again.

  Never once does Tuttle make a mistake. The guy launches the ball like it’s a missile, spiraling through the air, his aim true. It’s everyone else who needs work. They all look like they scramble on the field, running into each other, fumbling the ball. I knew our team wasn’t the best, but I didn’t realize they were that bad.

  Finally, when the boys are dragging and look ready to collapse, the head coach calls practice to an end.

  “Did you see how good Tuttle played?” Amanda asks me as we rush down the steps toward the field.

  “Yeah. I stayed quiet so I wouldn’t disturb your moment.” And Amanda was totally having a moment. She watched Tuttle move across that field in awe. You could hear his deep, rough voice calling the plays, and she leaned forward every time, like she wanted to savor the sound.

  “Shut up,” she says good-naturedly over her shoulder. We land on the ground and she starts to go in the opposite direction. “Hope your talk with Ryan works out.”

  “Wait a minute.” I snag hold of her wrist, stopping her, though I keep my gaze focused on the field. The players haven’t gone back into the locker room yet and I don’t want to miss my opportunity to get to Ryan before he tries to avoid me again. “You aren’t going with me?”

  Amanda slowly shakes her head and I let go of her. “I don’t want Tuttle to know I was watching him practice. That’ll just feed his already massive ego.”

  “He’d probably love knowing you were watching him.” Yeah, it would feed his ego, but it also shows she cares about him playing the game. Girls don’t come to watch Tuttle play football. It’s more about the status he’d bring if he ever allowed any girl to actually be seen with him.

  Normally, he doesn’t. He’s a lone wolf who runs on hookups and booze and nothing else.

  “Whatever.” She laughs. “Go chase down Ryan before he makes his escape.”

  Ugh. That’s exactly what I end up doing, which is stupid. I jog across the field, hating how out of breath I become. I’m not taking P.E. this year since it’s not required and I probably should’ve. I need to get back into shape.

  Other guys on the team spot me first and they get Ryan’s attention by calling his name and pointing at me. He turns to watch me approach, his hair damp with sweat and his eyes blazing with…

  Anger? Irritation? I can’t even tell anymore.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks when I get in hearing distance.

  “We need—” I stop in front of him and try to catch my breath. “—to talk.”

  He grimaces. “If this is about me kicking your little friend’s ass, trust me. He had it coming.”

  My mouth drops open in shock and I hear more than a few snickers come from the other boys. I ignore them and thankfully they all start to walk off the field. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I knew you’d be mad at me.” He shrugs, his expression completely blank. “So what was the point?”

  “But you also had to know I’d find out…right?”

  He sighs wearily, the tension seeming to leave his body all at once and making his shoulders sag. “Right. And you’re reacting just like I thought you would.”

  “How exactly am I reacting?” My voice ris
es and I sound the slightest bit shrill.

  Like a jealous, put-out girlfriend. Exactly what Ryan didn’t want to deal with.

  The rest of the team has left the field and are headed for the locker room, until it’s just Ryan and me. He doesn’t look thrilled to be left with me, and honestly? I’m not too thrilled to be left alone with him either.

  “Like a bitchy girlfriend. And I haven’t even got you naked yet.” He shakes his head, muttering, “I don’t know if it’s gonna be worth it either.”

  Icy cold shock combined with boiling hot rage washes over me and I blink up at him, dumbfounded by his cruelty. “What did you say?” I gasp out.

  His mouth thins into a firm line. “You heard me.”

  What an asshole. “Is it true that you made a bet with your friends about having sex with me?”

  He throws his hands up into the air. “Seriously? No, I didn’t make a bet, Livvy. Who’d you hear that from? Your little puppet, Dustin? Or maybe Em? Like they care about you.”

  Oh, that is it. I turn on my heel and run off the field, past the bleachers, out toward the parking lot. Until my lungs are burning and I’m halfway home before I finally stop to rest, bending over and resting my hands on my knees as I try to calm my breathing, my racing heart.

  Everyone keeps warning me about him. Amanda, Dustin, Em. And for some stupid reason I kept thinking I was different. I was special. He’d treat me better. He’d fall for me and we’d become a real couple.

  Clearly I’m delusional.

  I’m going to be totally lame right now and pull the PMS card. That’s why I’ve been acting so insane lately. Why my emotions have been all over the place. On top of the unusual amount of turmoil I’ve suffered through since school started, I was also experiencing a raging case of premenstrual syndrome.

  It’s been almost two weeks since the infamous football field argument with Ryan, and Aunt Flo’s visit is just about to come to an end. Meaning I am finally feeling back to normal.

  “I hate being on my period,” I say as I come out of the bathroom stall. The first bell is going to ring in a few minutes, so we need to hurry.