Shut Out(20)

“I’ll turn on the headlights so you can see to get in,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The lights flicked on, illuminating the driveway and glaring off the back of Dad’s van.

“Football fans, huh?” Cash said.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Well, you know. My brother used to play, and they supported Randy, of course.”

I wasn’t thinking about the rivalry then. I wasn’t thinking about sports at all. It was summer. I was free from it all. Or so I thought. But Cash’s face darkened just a little at the mention of football, and I quickly realized my mistake.

“Give me a call,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “I had a great time tonight. Really.”

He turned to face me, and I thought his eyes still looked a little guarded. Or maybe he was just tired. Or maybe I was, and my vision wasn’t what it usually is. Because his voice sounded normal.

“I had a great time, too,” he said. “Good night, Lissa.”

“Good night.”

I climbed out of his car and ran up the sidewalk. I stopped on the porch and watched as Cash’s car disappeared around the corner. When the last glow of his taillights had gone, I walked inside.

But the joy of that night faded pretty fast.

Even after everything I thought we shared, Cash never called me. I waited for three weeks, and not a peep. Not even a text message. It was like that night had never happened—and sometimes I wondered if maybe it hadn’t. If I’d imagined it. Dreamed it up as a way to get over Randy. Like an idiot, I hadn’t gotten Cash’s number for myself.

Not that it would have mattered. He’d rejected me. That much was clear.

In the long run, though, it was for the best. At the start of August, Randy crashed his Cougar. Despite that night with Cash, I was still in love with Randy, and I was just so happy he hadn’t gotten hurt that when he called me to apologize for our fight, I ran back to him.

And I was lucky, too. Because we’d both realized that breaking up was the biggest mistake ever. So we got back together that night, and I decided to put Cash behind me.

Easier said than done.

Isn’t that how it always works?





chapter eight


I was really excited for my date with Randy that Friday night, until I opened the front door and got a good look at his face.

“Oh, God. Randy, what happened?” I asked, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the sink while I opened the medicine cabinet and located my extensively stocked first-aid kit.

“I’m fine, really,” he said, putting a hand to the thin cut running along his left cheekbone. “Kyle threw a rock at me in the parking lot after practice. I think he meant to hit the back of my head, but I turned around and—”

“Kyle, the soccer goalie?”

Randy nodded as I cleaned a little dried blood off his cheek with a washrag. “Asshole,” he hissed. “I planned to come over here right after I showered and changed. I didn’t get blood on my shirt, did I?”

“I don’t think so. It’s not a deep cut. Here, this might sting a bit.” I dabbed peroxide along his cheekbone with a cotton ball.

“Well, at least it makes me look all rugged and sexy,” he said with a grin when I’d finished cleaning up the little cut.

“Yeah,” I said, pressing a Spider-Man Band-Aid onto his cheek. “Real sexy.”

He laughed, but I didn’t. Randy was hurt. Not severely, but he’d spilled blood because of this stupid, ridiculous feud. How many more boys would suffer because of this rivalry?

None, I decided. Because the strike started tonight. Officially.

“Ready to go?” Randy asked, squeezing my hand as he slid off the sink. “The movie starts in half an hour, and we still have to drive out to Oak Hill. I figured we’d eat dinner afterward.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” I said once I’d put away the first-aid kit. I was already impressed. He’d actually taken the time to plan out the date and everything.

He smiled and put an arm around my shoulders, leading me toward the front door. “I’m surprising you, by the way. You’re going to love the restaurant.”

I flinched. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Trust me. You’ll love this one,” he said, opening the car door for me. “I hate to brag, but I did awesome tonight.”


To tell you the truth, he really had done a great job. Instead of taking me to see some gory action movie, like I’d expected, he actually picked a romantic comedy. Granted, the movie as a whole kind of sucked, but the fact that he’d tried that hard really said something.

To top it off, he even took me to Giovanni’s, an expensive little Italian restaurant a few blocks from the theater. Despite his insistence on surprising me (surprises always made me uneasy), it was the nicest date Randy had taken me on since we’d started dating last year.

And not a soccer player in sight to ruin the evening.

After dinner, Randy took me back to his house, just like he’d planned. It was only ten thirty and I didn’t have to be home until midnight, so we had plenty of time to do whatever we wanted.

Of course, I knew what Randy wanted to do.

We walked up to his room and just sat on his bed for a while, talking about how bad the movie had been.