Shut Out(68)

I laughed.

“I had another reason, too,” he admitted, squeezing my hand. I wrapped my fingers around his, listening intently. “I also did it to get your attention.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “You kept avoiding me. I gave you that copy of Lysistrata hoping it would give us something to talk about, but every time we’d start to connect, you’d pull away. You were still dating Randy then, so I didn’t push it, but after Homecoming I couldn’t fight it anymore. I wanted to talk to you. To be around you. And you were so invested in this strike that I thought the only way I’d get you to stop avoiding me was to lead the boys’ side.”

“So you were making me crazy on purpose? How is that any different than what I did to you—trying to…” I hesitated, embarrassed. “To seduce you.”

“I wasn’t trying to drive you crazy, just to get your attention,” he said. “Lissa, I never tried to use you. Everything that happened between us—I meant it. Including that kiss in the library. I tried to tell you the other day at my house. That this”—he held up our entwined hands—“is more than just a game to me. But…”

“But I wouldn’t listen.”

“Yeah. Not that I blame you. This whole thing has been so complicated.” He shook his head. “Obviously, I’m not good at this whole dating thing. I have very little experience.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I do have experience, and I’ve messed this up just as much as—if not more than—you have.” We smiled shyly at each other, our fingers still laced. “At least now I know. And it isn’t too late.”

“It’s never too late.”

I leaned in then, ready to kiss him, to be with him, to start over from scratch and fix all the mistakes I’d made. But just before my lips met his, Cash put a hand on my shoulder and eased me away.

“Can we… Can we put this moment on pause?” he asked, though it looked like it was costing him an effort. “Let me go shower and change, and then we can get out of here. Will you wait for me?”

“Ye—No.” I stood up, shaking my head.

Cash’s eyes went wide. “No? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I told him. “No, everything’s perfect. But I know that if we get out of here, the chances of me being able to control myself are slim.” The way Cash grinned when I said this made my cheeks burn. “I’m still under oath,” I reminded him. “And I won’t let this strike be for nothing. The rivalry needs to come to an official end first.”

He nodded and got to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. So how do we make that happen?”





chapter thirty-two


Over fall break, an e-mail was sent out to every football and soccer player at Hamilton High, as well as to their girlfriends. The message instructed them all to sneak onto school property on the Sunday evening before school started up again—the second Sunday in October. They were told to meet on the grass between the football and soccer fields just after sunset, and to park their cars on the gravel back roads that snaked along the edge of the woods about half a mile from the school.

Cash helped me write the e-mail. He’d actually come up with the idea to meet between the fields. Sort of a safe ground for everyone.

Around five thirty Sunday evening, I headed downstairs to wait for my ride. The living room was full of boxes that Logan had filled with his belongings. I kept pushing them off to the side, worried they’d get in Dad’s way when he tried to navigate his chair through the living room. My brother—sometimes he just didn’t think about these things.

“Hey, sis, wanna give me a hand?” Logan asked when I reached the bottom step. He was carrying a giant box labeled TROPHIES and nodding toward the front door.

“Why isn’t your girlfriend here to help you move?” I asked, hurrying over to open the door for him.

“She’s working her last shift at the library,” Logan said, carrying the box out to his truck. “She’ll be over in the morning so we can take this first load up to the new apartment.”

Cash and I had worked our final shift under Jenna’s dictatorship on Thursday. She’d acted the same as usual, bossing us around, telling us how to do our painfully simple jobs like we were idiots, right up until we were locking up.

“You know,” she’d said to me as she shut down the computer at the front desk, “you’re going to have to take on more shifts now that I’m leaving.”

“Why?” I’d asked.

“Because you’re the only other person who loves this place enough,” she’d said, smiling at me. It was the first time Jenna had smiled at me like that. Like I was more than just a zit she couldn’t get rid of. “If you were able to put up with me, you must really love this place just as much as I do.” She looked over at the bookshelves, piled high with novels and memoirs and biographies. So many words and stories and facts. I looked, too.

“I do love it,” I told her.

“Good.” She’d stepped away from the computer, hands moving to her hips, returning to normal Jenna mode. “Because you’re the only person I trust to take care of this place. Without me, it might fall apart… unless you can keep it in order.” She hesitated. “I told Mrs. Coles that she should give you more hours. She trusts my judgment, so if you need a few more bucks…”