More Than Friends (Friends, #2)(73)

I should tell her that’s everyone’s fear when it comes to her, but I keep my mouth shut. “You should tell Liv you miss her.”

“Why? She won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. Telling her that would be completely pointless.” Em’s gaze sweeps the kitchen. “Is she here?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you come with her?”

“Yeah, her and Ryan.”

Em rolls her eyes. “That guy is a total douche.”

“They’re getting along right now,” I say in their defense. “They make a really cute couple.”

“Whatever. Just wait. He’ll grow tired of her eventually and then dump her ass.” Em sounds bitter. I remember that once upon a time, she went out with Ryan too. “Though I will admit, he’s been sticking with her for a while.”

I really don’t want to get caught up in this conversation. I came to Tuttle’s—oh, the irony—to have a good time, not get embroiled in some more drama. I’m about to bail when Eli Bennett magically appears, clutching a red cup, a giant smile on his face.

“Amanda,” he breathes, his gaze drinking me in. “You came.” He sounds surprised.

“I did.” I smile at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He chugs from the cup like he’s nervous, then crushes the empty cup with a squeeze of his fingers. “You look pretty tonight.”

Oh. “Thanks. You’re so sweet.”

He flashes me a lopsided smile. “I bet you are, too.”

Is that supposed to be a pickup line?

“Um, what the hell is going on here?”

Crap. I forgot Em is still standing with us. “Em, do you know Eli?”

“Ryan’s brother.” She smiles coolly. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Eli mumbles, looking away from her.

“Please don’t tell me you two are a thing,” Em says to me in disbelief.

“No, no,” I reassure her. “We’re just friends.”

“With benefits,” Eli tacks on, grinning wildly.

“Not even,” I mutter.

Em laughs. “You two are an—odd couple. But I’m kind of liking the possibilities. Revenge sex against Tuttle?”

“What? No. There’s nothing happening between us,” I say again. “Seriously.”

“Whatever you say,” Em drawls, wiggling her fingers at us as she starts to walk away. “See ya later.”

The moment she’s gone, Eli is shifting closer to me, as if he’s trying to invade my space. I take a step back. “Trying to play it cool with your friends?” he asks.

“Um, I guess so.”

“So you wanna keep this on the DL?” He nods before I can give him an answer. “I’m cool. I’m down.”

“Uh-huh. Listen, Eli, it probably is better that we not make a big deal out of this, you know?”

“This?” He raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” I hesitate. “You want to…hook up?”

“And you don’t?”

This is ridiculous. “You’re only fourteen.”

“Almost fifteen. Next week.”

“And a freshman.”

“Quarterback of the JV team. Next year I’ll be stepping in for Tuttle since he’ll finally be gone. Then I’ll be the fucking star.”

I’m sure he will. His easy confidence will take him far. “So Livvy said you have a thing for me.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, then takes my hand and drags me out of the kitchen.

“Where are you taking me?” I yell at him, dodging people as he tugs me through the crowd.

“I’m not having this conversation in the middle of the kitchen where everyone can hear.” He pulls me down the hall—the hall that leads to the secret back staircase, and he’s opening doors, one after another. He finds a supply closet, a linen closet, an empty bathroom—bingo—and drags me inside, shutting the door behind us. “Now what did Livvy say?”

“She said you…liked me.”

“I’m going to kill her,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair, messing it all up. He looks adorable. What’s up with cute boys with messy hair? “Listen, you’re fine as hell. And you’re a senior. If you were into me and we hooked up tonight? I’d be a freaking legend.”

Seriously? “You probably shouldn’t tell me that.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

“You only want to hook up with me because I’ll give you legend status.” He just blinks at me. “That’s not really cool, Eli. You’re just using me because I’m a senior?”

Well, I’m supposedly only using him because he’s interested, so I guess we’re even.

Now he’s full on grinning. “But that’s a good thing. An honor. You’re hot, Amanda. And the best thing? It’s like you don’t even know it. You wear those tight jeans and we’re all staring at your ass out on the field while you’re handing out water bottles or bent over one of us, taping up our hands. We’re all trying to catch a look, or even better, cop a feel.”