Page 82 of The Quarterback Sneak

“Zach is my plan.” My confidence is shaky, but I try to hide it because, logically, it makes sense. If the rumors are true, he needs this money for his family. It’s the same reason he gave me at the beginning of the year; I was just too naive to ask him for the specifics.

Bang.

A classroom door slams open, and I catch my breath.

“Zach.” He runs a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, and his bloodshot eyes narrow in on me. I bite my bottom lip, hoping the pain stops my stomach from flipping so damn hard. Without thinking, I run to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“Hey, Honeycomb,” he rasps into my ear. There’s an edge to his voice I’ve never heard before, and his whole body is vibrating. What I wouldn’t give to be alone with him to talk.

His nose skates across my cheek, and he gives me no warning before kissing me hard. Everyone’s watching. I can feel theireyes on me, and this doesn’t feel right. I can’t do this now. I dip my chin, forcing our lips apart, and rest my forehead on his chest. “Where have you been?” I whisper, somewhat nervous about his response.

“I’m sorry.”

His hands drop to mine, and he waffles them together, oblivious to the stares. I don’t get it. It’s obvious that something happened from the way he looks and how many days of school he missed, but he’s acting like things are normal.

“I broke my phone after the game and needed to deal with some stuff at home.”

Stuff at home?

Commitments. Commitments. Commitments.

Commitmentsthat I’m not close enough to know about. Wait? He broke his phone? Does he know what’s been going on the last few days?

“Any stuff I can help with?” I tip my toes forward, hoping he’ll finally tell me the truth even if I don’t want to hear it.

Zach’s lips dance into the smallest of smiles, and I swallow, anticipating my heart breaking. “Thanks for the offer, Honeycomb, but nothing you can help me with.”

It’s his usual canned response. We’re surrounded by our peers, so I shouldn’t be surprised he’s not willing to divulge his potentially biggest secret now, but the longer we go without talking about it, the more inclined I am to believe the rumors are true.

He shakes his head, still smiling. Still so oblivious to everything that I don’t know what to tell him. “You’ll never guess what happened to me on Friday. Someone stole my hunk of junk bike from our carport. I spent the entire weekend convincing the police to file a report because they thought I was making it up for insurance fraud.”

“Your bike?” I swallow, suddenly feeling nervous and prickly.

“Yeah. Honestly, not sure who would want to steal it, but I figure it must be someone more desperate for cash than me.”

“It wasn’t stolen.”

He whips his head in my direction. “What do you mean?”

His brows knit together the longer I take to speak, but how the hell am I supposed to tell him anything when he’s so agitated?

“Honey,” he warns. “What did you do?”

Started falling for you.

Oh, God. I did not just think that. I’m not falling for Zach. It’s just a crush.

Then he looks at me with a furrowed brow, and the thought of disappointing him makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.

“I’ve got your bike.” He backs away, almost recoiling from my touch. “I was planning on telling you on Friday, but then…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. Talking about Tiff will not help defuse the situation.

“It’s fine.” It doesn’t sound fine, and when he massages his temple, I know I’ve screwed up.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you.”

Still not looking at me, he says, “Well, stealing my bike was definitely a surprise.”

“I didn’t steal it, it’s at a local dealer, and he’s working on it for you. It should be ready to ride by the weekend.”

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