Page 61 of Stealing for Keeps
I should be grateful she’s leaving me alone. I spent the weekend half-afraid her mom was going to make good on her threats. I don’t know what my parents or Vaughn would do if they found out I was with a drunk and mostly naked Claire Friday night, but I’d rather not find out.
We play Stoutland next week, and that should be my only focus. It has to be. I can’t bear the thought of screwing everything up after my family literally moved across the country for this opportunity.
“Nothing,” I say. I didn’t tell anyone what happened when I dropped her off. But maybe she did. “Have you talked to her?”
“No.” He squints. “I’ve not seen her at all. That’s weird, right? You definitely did something, and you need to fix it.” I start to protest that I didn’t do anything, but Rowan holds up both hands. “I don’t want to know. Just fix it. If Vaughn gets word that Claire is upset with you, he’ll ice you out again, and we need you in the starting lineup next week.”
With a pointed stare, he walks away.
I blow out a breath as I lean my back against the lockers. Fix what? I don’t even know why she’s avoiding me. I need intel.
I get changed for practice quickly and then head to the far field where the cheerleaders are practicing.
Lacey straightens out of a stretch when she sees me approaching.
“Hey,” I say, stopping a safe distance away, so I’m not in her squad’s way while they warm up. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure,” she says, moving to me in quick, short strides. “What’s up, New Guy?”
One side of my mouth quirks up, but then I remember why I’m here. “What’s up with Claire?”
“What do you mean?” she asks in a tone that tells me she knows exactly what I’m asking.
“Come on, Lacey. She’s avoiding me: ducking into bathrooms, turning and going the other way when she sees me. She even bailed on our group project last night.”
“She ducked into a bathroom?” Lacey asks, brows rising.
“Yeah. She really had to go apparently.”
A small snort escapes, and she drops her hands to her sides. “Just when I think the girl is too mature for high school dramatics, she goes and gets herself into a situation with her ex-boyfriend’s teammate and turns into one of us.”
“I don’t follow,” I say, trying to repeat whatever she just said in my head to make sense of it.
“She’s embarrassed, genius,” she says dryly. “She got drunk, took off her clothes, and threw herself at you, and then her mom tossed you out.”
Hearing it all laid out like that makes me wince. She didn’t throw herself at me. I mean, maybe, but I was ready to catch her. Is that really what this is about? She’s embarrassed? I don’t know why.
“That’s it?”
“Claire isn’t used to putting herself out there.”
“She was drunk.”
“Yes, but she’s gotten drunk in front ofmebefore and never taken her clothes off.”
“It was no big deal.” Except it’s burned into my brain for eternity. But she shouldn’t be embarrassed. She had to feel the chemistry between us that night. We were so close to crossing a line, and I was all in.
“I’ve told her that, but she’s freaking out.”
“What do I do?”
“I don’t know, but you better figure it out, New Guy. Be charming or whatever. I’m really tired of eating lunch in the art room.”
* * *
The next day, I don’t even bother looking for Claire duringthe day or trying to talk to her in class. I wait until art is over and “accidentally” leave my sketchbook behind.
Like I knew she would, Claire texts later to let me know she grabbed it for me.
