Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)(34)

“That’s a horrible theme,” Stephanie says. “The theme should’ve been ‘Revenge will be ours. Cheaters never win.’”

“But they did win,” Rowan says.

“I mean in the end. Karma.”

“Cheaters?” I ask.

“Don’t get him started.” Trevor glances over his shoulder and then pulls out onto the road.

“Yes, cheaters,” Rowan says. Obviously I had gotten him started. “Trevor was taken out of last season because a couple of guys sacked him after the whistle. It was a dirty play.”

“Did they get punished?” I ask.

“One flag—five-yard penalty. Five yards!”

“It was actually fifteen,” Trevor says.

“Whatever. It was garbage! But we’ll have our revenge.” He shakes his fist in the air in a dramatic fashion. “We play their school not this Friday but next.”

“What school?” I almost want to take back the question because I’m afraid to hear the answer.

Stephanie turns around in her seat to face me. “Lincoln High.”

My cheeks go numb and my eyes slide to Trevor’s in the rearview mirror.

“They’re really good. Have you heard of them?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“They’re not that good,” Stephanie says, patting Trevor’s shoulder. “They’re not as good as you are.”

“Was,” Rowan says. “As he was.”

“As he’s going to be again,” Stephanie says.

Trevor’s eyes drop for a split second before he gives her a small smile.

Rowan starts sniffing the granola bars. “Is it weird that I want to eat these chocolate-drizzled pieces of cardboard?”

Trevor laughs too loud over the not-that-funny comment. “No. Not at all.” I sense that he’s grateful for the subject change.

Back at the theater, when the other team shows up with half of a layered chocolate cake that has my mouth watering with a single look, I know we’re doomed.





CHAPTER 15


PAR?[A]?dy: n. a poor imitation





Away from Duke, all the doubts creep in. I go between feelings of elation that Duke kissed me to feelings of suspicion. Driving to school Monday morning, my stomach tightens to knots. Since I’m still grounded, despite my mom’s thaw, we haven’t seen each other since Friday—the blue streak in my hair still as blue as ever. I’m not sure what happens next. Does he expect me to hang out with him? Are we together now?

I pull into a parking space, and a football hits my windshield, causing me to jump. My car door opens before I even have a chance to shut off the engine. I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for my backpack. Finally I glance up at him. He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet and into a hug. “Hey.”

“Hi.” I smile. “Will you cool it with the football assaults? You’re making me jumpy.”

“It’s kind of my signature now.” He nuzzles his face into my neck, and I close my eyes and relax into him. “Besides, it’s how I snagged you, so I can’t stop now.”

“Snagged me?” I’m not a fan of the description.

“Yeah. Heads up. Remember?” He pulls away, gives me a quick kiss, and then retrieves the football off the ground by my tire.

I shut the car door and adjust my backpack on my shoulder. “Yes. I remember. You did that on purpose?”

He nods proudly. “Of course I did that on purpose. I wanted to meet you. But I didn’t mean for it to actually hit you. I honestly thought you would duck.”

I smile. “Well, I never claimed to be coordinated.”

He grabs my hand as we walk. “Why don’t we have any classes together?”

“Probably because you’re a senior and I’m a junior,” I say.

Two girls leaning against the first row of lockers say, “Hey, Duke.” He waves, and then the girls add, “Hi, Addie.” My gaze, which had barely registered their presence before, now zeros in on them, waiting for recognition. It doesn’t come.

Duke squeezes my hand, and I say, “Oh, hi,” just before we pass them.

By the time we get to my locker, two more people say hi to both of us. A surge of pride fills my chest and I’m annoyed by its presence. I never cared what people thought of me before.

“I’d better go before I’m late for meditation.”

“Addie, are you embarrassed by me?” he asks, pulling me close.

“Embarrassed by you? Yeah right. The hottest guy in school is hugging me, and I’m embarrassed by him.”

“Why is your face red then?”

Because I’m irritated that I’m a fan of all this attention. “Because I’m not exactly an advocate of PDA.”

“Well, after today you’re going to have to be really vigilant to keep the rumors away.” He pushes me against a locker and starts to kiss my cheek.

I don’t know why my eyes sting with frustrated tears. But then his hands are on my shoulders and his kisses become soft and sweet so that by the time his lips cover mine, my anxiety has melted away. My hands go to his chest, where I grab two fistfuls of his shirt and pull him closer.

“I thought you didn’t want to be late,” he says against my lips.