Page 23 of Offsides

She lifts one eyebrow. “Huh, what?”

“Well …” I shake my head. “I just … when you do it, it looks effortless and sexy. But I feel like when my hair is loose and bumpy like yours, I just look frumpy and messy.”

That irrepressible grin takes over her face again. “That, I think, is a matter of perception. But also, my hair is wavy. It doesn’t like to do the straight hair thing where it’s all sleek and flat against my skull.” Her eyes narrow. “Yours is wavy too, with a few curls here and there if you do it right. I bet your hair doesn’t like to do that either.” Another shrug. “It’s easier to just accept your hair texture and work with it instead of against it. It doesn’t like to lie flat? Stop trying to make it. Plus, I use these coily hair ties, and they’re just not as tight as the rubber band style. They don’t leave a ponytail bump, which is another plus, and it’s really hard to get a smooth ponytail with one, so I don’t bother to try anymore. I have an extra if you want to try it.”

“Oh, I—”

But before I can finish my protest, Autumn holds up a hand and cuts me off. “Be right back.”

She slips out the door, leaving me blinking at the cheap wood, wondering what in the world is going on.

When she comes back, entering again after drumming her nails on the door to alert me to her return, she crosses to the bed and sets the clear circle that looks like an old school telephone cord on my knee. “Here. Give it a try sometime. You’ll thank me later, I promise.”

Chuckling, I pick it up and set it on my nightstand so I don’t lose it. “Alright. Thanks, Autumn.”

She sits on the foot of my bed, her face serious as she looks me over. “Seriously, though. You were really upset last night. Do you want to talk about it?”

I let out a heavy sigh that has Autumn’s eyebrows climbing her forehead in surprise again. Waving a hand, I shake my head. “Sorry. It’s just that Ellie tried to drag the story out of me this morning too. No, I don’t actually want to talk about it.” I mean why would I want to talk about the fact that my best friend basically treated me like a whore? A stupid, diseased whore that he doesn’t want corrupting his friends, no less.

"You know,” Autumn says, smoothing her hand over my blanket and tracking its progress with her eyes, “I stayed the night with Jackson last night.”

“Uh-huh. Ellie mentioned that this morning.”

Autumn glances at me. “I spoke to Eli.”

My gut churns. “Neat.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something like amusement on her face. But why would she be amused? Autumn’s not usually one to indulge in schadenfreude or take pleasure in someone else’s discomfort. “Neat?” she repeats on a chuckle.

I blow out a breath and shake my head. “If he asked you to apologize to me—”

She shakes her head, cutting me off again. “No. He didn’t ask me to convey any messages to you.”

“Oh. Well. Okay, then.” Somehow that disappoints me. I’d been all ready to pull my righteous anger around me again like a cloak. If she were here trying to talk to me on Eli’s behalf, I could stay mad at him for longer.

As it is, I’m starting to miss him. Even as I can’t get over what a bonehead he really is after all.

I miss what we had. What we were. But that all went poof as soon as he kissed me that night. And no amount of pretending can make time reverse and things go back to how they were.

Add in last night’s nonsense?

Am I really about to lose my entire social life? Because up until now, it’s all revolved around the football team, more or less. Between Eli and my roommates who are all involved with football players … I won’t be able to go to game nights or any of the football parties. Not anymore. Not with Eli being such an absolute douchenozzle.

And for what? What purpose does his behavior serve at all? It doesn’t benefit him. It doesn’t benefit me. It doesn’t benefitanyone. I just don’t get it. At all.

“Do you want him to send messages through me?” Autumn asks, breaking into my thoughts.

“No,” I answer immediately. I don’t.

Autumn doesn’t seem to buy it, though, with another of her patented expressions of disbelief—pursed lips, eyebrow arching high over one eye. “Are you sure about that?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “Yes. Positive. I don’t want you to be the intermediary. I don’t want us to even need an intermediary.”

Autumn hums thoughtfully, propping herself up with one hand. “What do you want?”

I throw my hands up in the air. “I want things to be how they used to be!” It comes out more forcefully than I meant, my frustration getting the better of me. “How dare he?” I toss my blankets back and climb off the bed, needing to move. “How dare he kiss me? How dare he then suggest we pretend it didn’t happen? Like it meant nothing! LikeImean nothing! Andthen. To compound everything, to treat me like he did last night? Like I was just there to taunt and titillate? Like I didn’t have every right to be there? Like I wasn’tinvited?”

Watching me placidly, Autumn idly kicks one rainbow sock clad foot, bouncing it off the leg of the bed. “Did you kiss him back?”

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