More Than Friends (Friends, #2)(23)

My skin warms at the memory.

“Tuttle didn’t even have his homecoming after party. It was so weird.” Em sends me a look. “Were you two together or what?”

“We weren’t together.” I shake my head. “I know nothing about a party.”

“I figured you and Tuttle might’ve become the party,” Em says, grinning. “Or had your own intimate party.”

“Ha. Funny,” I say with full on sarcasm as I slow to a stop in front of my homeroom door. Em stops with me. “Listen, you have a lot to make up for too, you know. You’ve done some shitty things, and Liv’s hurt. I know she’s done some awful things too, but the both of you can’t go on damaging each other like this.”

Em scowls, clearly irritated. “Who died and made you peacemaker?”

I roll my eyes and start to head into my class. I don’t need to put up with this.

Em chases me inside, coming to a halt directly in front of Cannon Whittaker’s desk. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey.” He hardly looks at her. The best linebacker at our school, Cannon is a huge guy who barely fits behind the desk he’s currently sitting in. He has a player reputation like all the other guys on the football team, but he’s never been anything but nice to me. Not that we’re in a lot of classes together or that he’s ever shown any interest, but still.

“Well.” Em turns, flashing me a bright, almost manic smile. Her eyes are wide and unblinking and I wonder at the quick transformation. “Thanks for the advice, Amanda. You’re such a big help, as always.” She wags her fingers in Cannon’s direction. “Bye,” she says before she runs out of my homeroom.

My gaze meets Cannon’s. “Are you guys friends?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “No.” His cheeks go red. So does his neck.

Hmmm.

The day drags. I blame it on being a Monday. There’s a pop quiz in my government class, but I think I mostly ace it. Lunch turns into a nightmare. An unexpected heat wave has made people cranky—myself included—and all the seniors decide to grab food off campus. I planned on getting something quick at a drive thru somewhere by myself but decide I don’t want to deal with the traffic jam headache.

I’m making my way out of the parking lot when Jordan Tuttle’s Range Rover pulls up alongside me. The tinted window rolls down, revealing there’s no one else in the car.

Just Jordan.

“Where you going?” He’s wearing sunglasses, but he shoves them on top of his head so I can see those pretty eyes of his.

“Back to the quad.”

He makes a face. “It’s hot as hell outside. Come with me.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to get in his car. I’ll say something dumb. Or worse, I’ll do something dumb. Something I’ll regret.

“Come on, Mandy. I’ll buy you lunch.”

My stomach growls at the word lunch, but I shake my head again.

“We can work on our project together,” he suggests, like that’s going to tempt me.

“I’m not going to write Juliet’s diary entry in front of you,” I snap, surprised he’d even suggest it.

Now he’s frowning. “Get in the car.” I hear the doors unlock and he studies me with that quiet yet powerful look he’s perfected. The one that says, do as I say.

Heaving a big sigh, I round the front of the car and open the passenger side door, plopping my butt into the seat. “There.” I turn to look at him after I shut the door. “Happy?”

“Very.” He pulls his sunglasses back on, puts the vehicle in drive and off we go, speeding through the parking lot and pulling out through the entrance-only side and onto the street.

“Jordan!” I did not mean to say his name out loud, but jeez. He’s gonna get in trouble for pulling a stunt like that.

He grins at me and presses the gas hard, speeding down the road toward the restaurants all of us students frequent during lunchtime and after school. “Loosen up, Winters. You only have one life. Learn how to live it.”

My hands ball into fists in my lap. I can’t believe he just said that. He’s so infuriating sometimes. “Are you saying I don’t know how to live my life?” He doesn’t even know me. Not really. Not well enough to give me that sort of advice.

“No.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road before him. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t be scared. You need to learn how to take more risks.”

I’ve taken more risks these past few months than I ever have in my entire life. “I’m a planner. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Tuttle says nothing, implying there’s everything wrong with that, but whatever.

“Were you really going to lunch by yourself?” I finally ask.

“I didn’t want to. I was taking a risk and hoping I could find you.”

I sag against my soft leather seat. He’s exhausting. Now it’s my turn to not have a response.

“Do you want anything in particular?”

Shaking my head, I tell him, “You decide,” and he doesn’t argue with me. He pulls into In-N-Out, goes straight to the drive thru and lets me make my own order at the speaker.

“You mind eating in the car?” he asks after we finish ordering.