Page 43 of Forever Cursed

“History? Really? I would have thought business or some kind of physical therapy,” she offers with a hint of chastising amusement.

“I’m a firm believer in doing what you love. I adore history. I always have. I mean, if you could go back to any significant historical event, wouldn’t that be fantastic? Imagine being inside Independence Hall when the Founding Fathers signed the Declaration of Independence. Or on the field during the Battle of Yorktown.”

“You’ve lost me.” Lindsay shakes her head before dropping her gaze.

Looking down at my hands, a lingering sensation of someone watching me creeps along my left arm. Peering over, I squint when I catch a lanky guy with a terrible mustache staring at me. When he catches me looking, he and his friend scramble to pick up their menus and hide their faces.

Weird . . .

The pizza arrives, steaming from the brick oven, and my stomach rumbles. I’ve eaten today, but not nearly enough. If Chrissy were here, she would scold me, and the thought makes me grin.

The crust is rich golden-brown with some charred spots. The cheese is a gooey, molten blanket with bright slices of red garden tomatoes, green peppers, and sausages.

Not wasting another second, I cut the pizza into eight equal slices. Lindsay raises her plate, and I put two slices on it before I serve myself. When I pick the pizza up, I take a bite and stop myself from moaning. This is by far the best pizza I’ve ever had.

Silence engulfs us, and my skin starts to itch from the awkwardness. The glares coming from the two guys at the table across from us don’t make things better.

“So—” I start but stop the second my phone vibrates on the table.

Lindsay looks over at me and smiles. “You can get that.”

“Thanks,” I say as I open the text, relieved to see it’s from Chrissy.

How’s it going?

It’s okay . . . it’s quiet.

Is she quiet, or are you being quiet?

Both?

Get to know her!

I don’t know how!

OMG, okay. Ask her if she likes being a cheerleader.

I start to type out my response but stop when I get another message.

JUST DO IT.

“How do you like being a cheerleader?” I ask before Chrissy sends me another threatening message.

“I love it!” Her energy comes to life, and I can’t help but smile because it reminds me of how Chrissy gets. “My favorite part is the energy. The crowd during game days, cheering on the players. It keeps me fit too.”

“It is a vigorous sport?—”

“Finally, someone gets it.” She cuts me off and continues to beam at me.

“Do you enjoy football?”

“I do. My goal is to be drafted by the Philadelphia Eagles, but if that doesn’t happen, I’ll teach American history.” As I grin, her expression drops and her forehead crinkles. “Everything okay?”

“You’ll just give up if you don’t get drafted?” she questions as her posture stiffens.

“Well, I enjoy football, but it’s not something I’ll run myself dry over. I figure wherever the universe wants me to be is where it’ll put me. Either way, I’ll be happy.”

She squints, and the crease in her brow deepens. She didnotlike that answer.

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