Page 32 of The Love Rematch
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m her handler then, and not you, because she’s already dressed and waiting for my signal, which I’ll be giving in about five seconds.” She clicks on her mic. “Fred, you all set? Jake and I are good to go. If you give the okay, I’ll send Emily out.”
“Ready Freddy,” he replies.
They both roll their eyes. Nina smiles. Jake would normally join her in the joke, but he can’t. His gaze is glued to the tunnel where Emily is set to make her grand entrance. A knot about the size of Georgia clumps in his throat. A lot of people in this country live and breathe football. To them, the sight of a cheerleader might be a wet dream. And Jake doesn’t have anything against those people. He really doesn’t. But to see Emily like that? To see her become one of them? It’s an absolute nightmare.
It’s going to break him a little.
It’s going to take one of the few good memories he has left and twist it into something unrecognizable.
Jake closes his eyes. Simple as that, he’s back in his senior year.
It was homecoming night. School started about four weeks before, and though Nate had declared him Emily’s official stalker, he had yet to gain enough courage to talk to her. Because look at her. She was gorgeous. She was funny. She was charming. She was one half of the most popular duo in school simply because they were new and interesting and every guy was hoping to date one or two or preferably both at the same time. What the hell could he offer? A screwed-up life story and dreams he would probably never achieve?
Instead, he was doing what he normally did and was using the camera as a cover to scan the crowd for her. Officially, he was there to take video footage for the yearbook committee. No, he didn’t have that much school spirit, but any excuse to get behind the lens was an escape he’d take. Besides, his mother would have been hurt if he hadn’t come. They were honoring his father that night. Whoop-de-fucking-doo. The bastard didn’t deserve Jake’s spit, let alone a plaque in the school trophy case. But he’d won them four state championships about a hundred years ago, and that was all that mattered to anyone in this town.
God, I can’t wait to get out of here.
“Hi!”
He about jumped out of his skin and jerked away from the camera. Emily waved with a huge smile plastered across her face. He just stared, not entirely sure if he was hallucinating. After a beat of silence, her smile wavered. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and fuck, the sight of that did something to him.
Talk, you idiot. Talk.
“Um. Hey.”
Great. Real smooth.
This wasn’t their first conversation, but it might as well have been. The only other time they’d spoken was back during the first week of school. Her mother had driven her over to his house to drop off flowers, and she was just as surprised as him when he opened the door. The new police chief had wanted to send his condolences to the family of his predecessor. If it had been anyone but Emily, Jake would’ve slammed the door in their face. Instead, he’d gruffly taken the bouquet while she squeaked out an embarrassedbye, then fled to the car.
It was the stuff of fairy tales.
Not.
But now she was looking at him with those big doe eyes, and all the ice in him was melting.
Jake shrugged. “What are you, uh, doing here?”
Apparently, that was all the opening she needed because she hopped onto the handrail beside him and started swinging her feet while she spoke. “Well, my sister has decided that the quarterback of the football team, Ian what’s-his-name—”
“Ian Winnacker.”
“Right, Ian Winnacker is the love of her life. So she dragged me here to watch him play. But then she started talking to the class president, Chris—Chris—”
“Chris Davies.”
“Right, Chris Davies. And like five other guys are there hanging on her every word, and I had to get out of there.”
“Weren’t they hanging on your every word too?”
“Ugh. That made it worse. So I looked around and tried to find someone to talk to who wanted to be here even less than I did. Then I saw you up here, by yourself, scowling into your camera, and I thought—yes! Perfect! Jacob William Henry the Third is my grumpy hero.”
It didn’t go unnoticed that she remembered his full name. Too bad it was a name he fucking hated.
“Just Jake.”
“Okay,Just Jake.”
She bumped his shoulder with hers. He couldn’t fight the grin that passed over his lips, so he ducked his head back behind the camera and pretended to take some casual shots of the crowd for something to do.
