Page 54 of Goal Line
“I signed an NDA,” Morgan says with a laugh, “you can quite literally tell me anything. Though really, if it’s something illegal, maybe keep that to yourself? I have this whole moral complex about doing the right thing.” She rolls her eyes with a little shake of her head, like she’s laughing at herself.
With her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a sleek bun, the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and her big blue eyes, she comes across as very innocent. But I’ve seen the way she worked her magic with our situation, shaping our story and helping us spin it into something that looks a lot like true love. I’ve learned that she works for the famous talk show host Petra Ivanova, and she’s done such a great job that AJ brought her on as a “fixer” to help with social media and PR situations for the Rebels. She’s the daughter of one of the shrewdest sports agents in thebusiness. So I’m willing to bet that no one should underestimate Morgan based on her appearance.
I take a deep breath and say, “I used to be completely and totally in love with Luke.”
Morgan clears her throat. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Why not?”
“Because his feelings are obvious. Yours are . . . less so.”
“That’s because Iusedto have feelings for him. Now I know better.” Too bad thatknowing betterhasn’t truly changed my feelings.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Really? Why’s that?”
“How much time do you have?” I joke, and she glances down at the full plates of steaming hot food that we’ve barely touched since the waiter dropped them off a few minutes ago.
“For this kind of lore? Oh, I have all the time in the world.”
Eight Years Ago
Across the courtyard, I watch Luke talking to Sadie Montgomery, the blonde cheer captain who’s made her recent crush on him well known. She was dating the quarterback of our football team for the first half of the year, but they broke up sometime this winter. It was right in the middle of hockey season, and by the time Luke led our hockey team to the state championship in the early spring, she’d set her sights on my best friend.
I don’t know if she just falls for the captain of whateverteam is winning in the current season or if she actually likes Luke, but I’ve watched her overt flirting become more and more ostentatious as we’ve crept toward the end of our senior year.
“What do you think he sees in her?” I ask Reese, who’s standing next to me, commenting on Luke and Sadie’s interaction. If she swats his chest and throws her head back laughing one more time, I might actually throw up. Luke’s funny, but he’s notthatfunny, and I want to yell across the courtyard and tell her she’s trying too hard.
Luke doesn’t like girls who come on too strong...or try too hard. Not that he’s specificallysaidthat to me, but every time it’s obvious that a girl is after him, he lets her down gently. He’s never had a girlfriend and always jokes that I’ve set the bar too high.I’ll have a girlfriend when I find someone I like better than you, Evie, he always says.
I’ve tried to explain that you can date even if you prefer your best friend’s company—a point I’ve also modeled. Is there anyone I’d rather spend time with than Luke? No. But when we hit high school, and everyone started to think we were more than friends, despite the fact that Luke repeatedly explained that there was nothing but friendship between us, I realized that I needed to start dating.
Either that, or I was going to have to admit to myself that he’s the guy I measure everyone else against—the one who’s totally perfect for me in every way. And since dating him is out of the question, I had to explore other options, or I was going to waste away my high school years pining for my best friend.
Reese snorts his response, and when I glance at him, he says, “I mean, just look at her.”
I do, and I regret it, because she’s trailing a finger down his breastbone, right between his pecs. Not many guys our age have bodies as built as Luke’s. At over six feet tall, he’s wrapped in corded muscles that make him look a lot older than he is.
“Okay, what do you think she sees inhim?”
“You mean, besides the Hartmann name?” Reese asks, sarcasm evident in his tone. “And that he’s probably going to be prom king? And that he’s the captain of the state championship hockey team with a spot on Boston College’s team already lined up? And obviously pretty good looking, and way too nice?”
I elbow him in the side without even looking at him. “Yeah, aside from that.”
I get it, I really do. Lukeisperfect. It’s an undeniable fact. Dating other guys over the last four years has had the opposite of its intended effect. Instead of taking my mind off Luke, it’s a constant comparison game.Luke would never say something like that to me. Luke wouldn’t be half an hour late for our date. Luke wouldn’t cancel plans to hang out with the guys...I could go on and on.
And yet, it feels like something has shifted between us this spring. His glances and friendly touches linger every-so-slightly longer. I’ve tried to convince myself it’s just because we know we’re headed in opposite directions this summer—I’m moving to LA to skate with a new partner, and he’s heading to a hockey camp before starting at BC in the fall. These are the last months we have together, so it’s natural we’d want to spend more time together.It doesn’t mean anything.
Yet, I’ve seen a difference in the way Luke looks at me,and now I can’t unsee it. Now, I read every text he sends, searching for any subtle sign of sexual innuendo. And I’ve found plenty. Our normal playful banter now sounds and feels a lot like flirting.
All of it is enough to make me hope for something I never dared to hope for before.
And then, there’s our prom agreement: if neither of us is dating someone when prom rolls around, we’ll go together. It’s still just shy of a month away, so I’ve been nervous to ask him about it—it doesn’t feelquiteclose enough to the date to conclude that neither of us is going with someone else, but I’ve secretly been shopping for dresses online for weeks, so that I’ll have the perfect option picked out, should we end up going together.
Then, earlier this week, Sadie made it public knowledge thatsheplans to be Luke’s date for prom. And as I watch him wrap his hand around hers, pulling her fingers away from his chest, I note that he doesn’t let go. He’s standing there, holding her hand in the middle of the courtyard in front of our entire senior class at lunchtime. There’s no way to misconstrue this level of public affection, especially as she steps even closer to him, barely a breath apart now.
“Think he’s going to ask her to prom?” I wonder aloud. In my heart, I already know the answer. Sadie is exactly his type—tall and blonde, with long legs and a fake tan.
“He definitely is,” Reese says. “He said he has this top-secret but very elaborate plan...” He pauses, and we both watch as Sadie leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on Luke’s cheek.
