About That Night by Beth Andrews Page B

captain of the football team could possibly want from her.
    “Hey,” he said when he reached her.
    She dug deep to find a way to return his smile. Nope. Not happening. “Hello, Luke.”
    Okay, that had sounded sort of prissy. And completely unfriendly.
    Maybe she could be just the tiniest bit rude. Funny how, instead of making her feel ashamed, she was doing an internal celebratory dance.
    She’d have to contemplate what that meant later.
    “How’s it going?” Luke asked, hands in the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts, his smile still on his face, as if he was really happy to be chatting with her.
    Must be a slow day in the jock world in which he lived. No games on ESPN, weights to lift, protein shakes to make or half-witted teammates to hang out with.
    She winced. Sighed so deeply she felt it all the way to her toes. Bitter? Her? Well, maybe a little.
    It was all Andrew Freeman’s fault. But that was no reason to take it out on Luke.
    “I’m fine.” Other than, you know, her head being hot—having thick, curly hair was like having your very own fur hat—and wondering why on earth Luke was talking to her. Yes, just fine and dandy. And because she hadn’t liked her earlier mean thought about the half-wits, she cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, “How about you?”
    “Everything’s good, thanks.” Well, there was a lesson in politeness right there.
    Then again, Luke had always been nice. At least to her face. She had no idea what he said about her behind her back. And how egotistical was that? Luke probably never gave her a second thought.
    Unless...unless Andrew mentioned her to him?
    She snorted, covered it with a fake cough when Luke sent her a curious look. Why on earth would Andrew talk about her? Yes, yes, he and Luke were best friends, one of those bromances so popular in high school and cop movies, but Andrew hadn’t wanted anyone to know he and Gracie hung out.
    He’d been embarrassed by her.
    The back of her throat ached. Her nose tingled. No. No way was she going to get all weepy over him. She was over what he’d done. All the way over it. No grudges or bad feelings.
    She was bigger than that.
    Even if there were times she felt small. Small, petty and totally unlike herself. Unlike the person she wanted to be.
    “Great,” she said, realizing it was her turn to talk. She gestured behind her. “I actually have to get to work now, so...”
    But when she started walking away, he fell into step beside her.
    What good was all that positive karma she’d built up over her lifetime if it left her at times like this?
    She snuck a sideways glance at him. He was tall, and his green T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the sleeves hugging his well-defined arms. He’d gotten a haircut sometime during the three weeks since school had let out, and the shorter style accentuated the lines of his face, made him look older. Less cute and more...va-va-voom.
    If you liked that sort of thing.
    “How’d you do on the SATs?” he asked.
    “How did you know I took the SATs?”
    “I took them the same day. Remember?”
    Well, of course she remembered. She just hadn’t thought he’d noticed her there that morning.
    “I did okay.” Actually, she’d done better than okay. And really, was it so horrible if she casually mentioned her score? He might be good-looking, popular and athletic, but she was smart. Everyone knew the teenagers deemed geeks and nerds by their peers ended up ruling the world as adults. She couldn’t wait. “I got eighteen hundred.”
    It wasn’t bragging. It was the truth. He’d asked. She’d answered. Simple as that.
    “That’s great,” he said, sounding as if he really meant it. Not that she’d wanted him to be envious or anything, she quickly assured herself. “Me, too. Well, eighteen forty.”
    She stopped, her body slamming to a halt out of pure shock—unfortunately, she’d just stepped off the corner and into the road. An approaching car beeped, quite