RYAN
Coach Knox made us hit the locker rooms early and I rushed to get dressed. Beth will be one of the first girls out since she was the first in. Me and her—we have unfinished business. She left my team in a bind plus she ruined my plan to ask her out.
At the top of the wooden bleachers, she sits by herself with her back against the cinder-block wall and her legs stretched out. Her black hair rests behind her shoulders and she types into a cell phone with her thumbs. A small smile curves her lips. There’s a look about Beth, one I haven’t seen before…something almost peaceful.
Scaling the bleachers, I take the rows two at a time. The hollow thumping of my steps echoes in the empty gym. Beth snaps the phone shut and shoves it in her back pocket. The small smile and peacefulness fade as she officially extracts the claws. “Aren’t you popular people supposed to be gracing the masses with your presence in the locker room, leaving us losers to hide in peace?”
“We need to talk.”
“Well, I want to be alone.”
Noted, but her being alone won’t help me win the dare. “This is going to be a long year if you keep pushing everyone away. I can help you fit in, you know.”
In a slow, sexy motion, Beth slides her silky hair behind her ear. “I see. You’re into charity work. Admirable, but I think I’ll pass.”
How she does it, I don’t know, but she has this hypnotizing sway and seductive voice that can make me forget for a few seconds why I don’t like her. Then my brain replays her snide comments. Ignoring my admiration of her body and that I love the sound of her voice, I sit on the row below her.
Beth flutters her fingers in the air. “Go on,” she says as if she was talking to a dog. “Shoo.”
Play it cool. I’ve done it plenty of times. Pull out the charm. Overlook the fact she dismissed me when I asked her to hang with me during gym. Pretend I didn’t have to resort to using Lacy in order to accomplish my goal. Repeat over and over again that I don’t care that she left a team depending on her. “You look nice.”
She glances at her outfit: black pants—stylish, form-fitting—and another white button-down shirt, except this one has puffed sleeves. Definitely not the style she wore when I first met her. On Gwen, those clothes would look like they came out of a fashion show. On Beth…it makes me miss the jeans with holes.
“Nice for a clown in a traveling circus. What angle are you playing?”
For her to give me a damn break. “Go out with me.”
“Are you trying to snag the niece to impress Scott or a fuck to impress your friends?”
A muscle in my jaw jumps and her all-seeing eyes catch it. I’ve come to detest that wicked grin. Be nice. Even if she isn’t. Getting mad won’t help me win her over. Plus, she’s not far off the mark. “There’s a field party Friday night. It would be a good chance to meet people instead of blowing them off.”
She leans in and I inhale the distinct scent of roses. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I kind of enjoy blowing people off. It goes well with my attitude of this-school-can-eat-shit-and-die.”
What the hell is wrong with this girl?
Beth relaxes back onto the bleacher. “I’ll ask again, what’s the game, Jock Boy?”
“No game,” I say too quickly and try to slow it down. The door to the locker rooms opens and I hear laughter as people enter the gym. I have seconds to impress her before the bleachers fill. “You’re pretty, Beth.” Suddenly it’s hard to look at her. She is pretty. More than pretty. I stare at my shoes. Get a grip, Ryan. She’s a dare.
“I’m pretty?” Beth raises her voice and I glimpse the other students climbing the bleachers and taking their seats. Their chatter stops and they watch the two of us. This is not how this moment is supposed to go.
“I’m pretty,” she repeats loud enough for the entire gym to hear. The evil sparkle in her eye informs me that she’s enjoying the social lynching. “Is that the best line you can come up with? Let’s fast-forward this entire conversation so you can stop wasting my time.” She holds up the palm of her hand and even though the word is gone, I still see my defeat: can’t.
Tim Richardson imitates the whistle of a bomb dropping from the sky and uses his hands to create the explosion. “Crash and burn, Ry. Good to hear that the new girl has some standards. When you’re done playing with the ballplayer, Beth, you can come play with me.”
“Back off, Tim,” I say in a low, clear warning. If Tim wants to cut me down—fine, but he leaves Beth out of it. Girls will be treated with respect.
“Don’t pretend you’re trying to defend me.” Beth’s eyes narrow. “You’re pissed off that I’m not falling at your feet in worship like the rest of this pathetic school.”
More laughter from the crowd. Idiots. She also put them down.
“You can’t keep up,” she whispers. “Stay the hell away from me.”
Screw this. I can do anything.
Coach Knox blows his whistle and the entire class turns to face him. “Last order of business for the day. We need one senior girl and one senior guy nominated for the homecoming court. We’ll start with guys.”
Several hands rise. I can’t keep up? She’s so wrong.
“Raise your hand if you want Tim Richardson.” Coach nods with each hand he counts.
I’m the king at this school. I can win any dare, any time. Win any game. If she wants to play, we’ll play. She doesn’t want the world to know she’s Scott Risk’s niece. Skater Girl humiliated me and she’s about to learn that turnabout is fair play.
“Now for the girls,” says Coach.
My hand rises in the air at the same time as everyone else’s, but I’m not giving anybody else the opportunity to supply another name. “Beth Risk.”
Hands drop. All gazes flicker between me and Beth. Her feet fall off the seat, one right after another—clomp, clomp. “What did you say?”
“Did you say Risk?” asks Tim. “As in Scott Risk? As in the baseball god who just moved back to our town?”
A wave of whispers crashes among the students sitting on the bleachers, Beth’s name the topic of each hushed conversation. Ignoring Tim, I face Beth. Her blue eyes blaze like twin flames from a blowtorch. Who’s not keeping up now? “I nominate you, Beth Risk, for homecoming court.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You can’t.”
“Yes.” I love winning. “I can.”
“I second it,” says Gwen with a bright smile plastered on her face, and red flags rise. She’s wanted the homecoming crown since she was three.
Beth jerks up and stamps her foot against the bleacher like a toddler throwing a fit. “No, you can’t. Nominate yourself.”
“It’s okay,” says Gwen, “I was already nominated in first and second period.”
“So was I.” I waggle my eyebrows at Beth. “We could walk on the field together. Won’t that be fun?”
Beth stands completely still, mouth slightly slack, her hands held out to her sides with her fingers spread. I finally nailed the girl who’s been nailing me for weeks.
Coach Knox claps his hands to get our attention. “All in favor of adding Beth to the football homecoming court raise their hands.”
With every eye on Beth, the entire class raises their hands. Everyone except for Lacy. Her stare burns holes through me, but she keeps her mouth shut.
“All opposed,” says Coach Knox.
“Me,” Beth yells. I smile. I love winning.
“Congratulations,” Coach Knox says in a bored voice. “You’re on the homecoming court.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?”
Coach Knox points at her. “Take a seat and watch your language.”
The bell rings. Beth grabs her backpack and leans into my face. “You are so fucking dead.”