Playing the Player(34)

The guys draped themselves over the tables lining the wall. Their laughter was loud, then their voices dropped low. God, I hoped Slade wasn’t telling them about my swim lesson.

He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

I stepped up to the counter, my face burning. “Next time text me a warning,” I said through gritted teeth.

She tilted her head. “Warn you about what?”

I darted my eyes at Slade.

She followed my gaze. “He doesn’t bite.” She gave me a devilish grin. “Or maybe he does. And maybe you’d like to be his next victim.”

My mouth dropped open. “What?” I glanced nervously over my shoulder, but the guys ignored us, shooting spit wads at each other through their straws.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying…”

I glared at her. “Well, stop saying it.”

She laughed. “You want a pretzel? Lemonade?”

I’d been starving when I left the theater but now my appetite had fled. I shook my head.

She examined me from head to toe. “You look different today.”

I panicked. Was my shirt on inside out? Was my hair sticking up?

“Maybe it’s new makeup?”

I shook my head.

“You just look…more alive, I guess.” She frowned at me. “You sure about the makeup?”

I rolled my eyes. The guys roared with laughter over something, and I was grateful they couldn’t hear our ridiculous conversation.

“You should wear red more often. It makes your hair and eyes really pop.”

I glanced down at my red shirt and denim miniskirt. I was totally regretting the skirt, but all my shorts were in the wash, and it was too hot for jeans.

Why did I care, anyway? Slade had already seen me in swimsuit. I glanced at him, just in time to see him look away from me.

I had to get out of there. “Look, I’ll call you later, okay?”

Desi’s face crumpled. “Come on, don’t leave.” She glanced at the guys. “They’ll be gone in a few minutes. They’re going to some zombie movie.”

As if on cue, Trey walked over. “See ya later, baby,” he said, leaning over the counter to kiss Desi.

I stared at the floor while the guys made catcalls.

They all said various obnoxious versions of good-bye as they moved away from us like a giant amoeba of testosterone.

Except for Slade, who separated himself from the amoeba and walked right up to me. I swore I could hear my pulse thumping in my ears.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” His topaz eyes held my gaze.

“Uh,” I stammered, then took a breath. “Butterflies.” As I said the word, they came to life in my stomach.

He frowned. “Butterflies?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. The Butterfly Pavilion. Gillian loves it there.” Or at least I assumed she would. Who wouldn’t love butterflies?

A tiny smile quirked his lips. “And you said you weren’t a risk taker.”

“Are you mocking me?”

His smile vanished as he shook his head, looking worried. “No. I’d never do that.” He tugged at his stupid hair tie. “So do you want to drive up there together? It’s a long way. We should take one car.”

I bit my lip. He was right. The Pavilion was practically in Boulder.

“How about if Max-man and I pick you and Gilly up around ten thirty tomorrow?”

I nodded, still searching for words. I pictured us in the pool again. Me flailing around the shallow end, Slade looming over me like the buff lifeguard he was.

“Come on, Edmunds!” a loud voice boomed from the mall. “Stop scamming chicks and let’s go.”

Was he blushing? Probably. He wouldn’t want his friends thinking he was hitting on Bird Brain.

“See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder, practically running out the door.

“See you.” But by the time I got the words out, he was gone.

This stupid infatuation had to stop. I was Trina Clemons, future valedictorian of Sky Ridge High. I had plans.

Plans that didn’t involve any detours with slacker party boys who wore shoelaces in their hair.





Chapter Eighteen


Trina


Wednesday, June 12

Gillian’s scream almost shattered my eardrums, along with everyone else’s inside the Butterfly Pavilion. Hands flailing in her hair, she barreled down the winding path, crashing into people as she ran.

Unlike me, Slade jumped into action, shoving Max toward me then chasing after Gillian. Max tugged on my hand. Tears welled in his soft brown eyes, moistening his lashes.

“Why is Gilly screaming? Did the butterflies bite her?” His lip trembled.

I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him. “Of course not, sweetie. Butterflies don’t bite.”

He blinked away the tears. “But why did she run away?”

I sighed. I had no idea. Who was scared of butterflies, anyway?

“Let’s go find her.” A few people gave us weird looks as we hurried up the path. Guilt by association with the rampaging redhead.

Outside of the gift shop, Slade and Gillian sat on a bench together. Gillian leaned against Slade, crying her heart out. His arm wrapped around her tiny body and he bent toward her, whispering.