Page 8 of Top Scorer
“Pure evil.”
I continue walking, my adrenaline spiking at the memory of our ridiculous vendetta. “When I turned his phone setting to a different language, he was too stubborn to ask for help. He had to learn French.”
“How the hell did you get into his phone?”
“The guy’s password was one-two-three-four.”
Toby shrugs dismissively. “He was basically asking to get hacked.”
“Exactly. Anyway, it was all stupid, harmless stuff. Until it wasn’t.”
“What did he do?” Toby asks, eyes wide. “What didyoudo?”
“I ruined his chance at a hockey tournament, and he ruined the play I was in. We both lost something important enough to call a truce. I haven’t seen him since we graduated.”
“And then he shows up last week, out of nowhere, looking at you like you hung the moon.”
I recall the kiss.
The hunger in Tristan’s eyes.
The firmness of his grip, like he didn’t want to let me go.
“His parents still live in Centerstone,” I force myself to say in order to stop thinking about our kiss. “It isn’t like he wouldn’t eventually come around. Anyway, the past stays in the past.”
“I’m not so sure,” Toby replies with a sly grin. “Guess who’s back.”
I follow his gaze to land on a muscular back stretching a gray Henley shirt. Tristan is in front of the school, yapping with the guys in the crew while all the girls are huddled at the side with heart-shaped eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
He points to his chest and turns his head side to side, feigning surprise, as if chatting up my students is a regular occurrence.
“Your students DMed my account on insta and invited me to come back.”
I look at the boys, whose smiles are as wide as barn doors.
“You guys invited Tristan Thorne to come back. For what?”
“He was curious about the musical.”
“Then send him the link to buy tickets!”
“What’s the harm?” Tristan interjects. “The kids don’t mind. Willyouget nervous if I watch?”
I narrow my eyes at him before stomping away. “Fine. See you all in the auditorium in five minutes. Ethan and Mia, you’re up.”
In the bathroom, I splash water on my face. The walk got my heart pumping, but Tristan’s grin made it skip.
He’s no longer a boy who knows how to get under my skin. Tristan is now a man who knows how to get under any woman he sets his eyes on. Based on our interaction, he has his eyes set on me. I need to remember that my attraction to Tristan will burn me in the end. He’s like a malfunctioning electric blanket. Cozy at first, till it chars your ass.
Resolutely, I enter the studio and look past him at the kids on the stage.The Addams Familymusical opens in two weeks. I’ve got no time for a hockey player who smells like mojitos, smiles like a politician, and wins over my crew. If he wants to waste his time being ignored, that’s his business.
We’re rehearsing a love scene between the main characters. As a high school show, there will be no kissing or groping. Desire has to come across with subtle body language. Or at least with more chemistry than startled deer caught by headlights. The moment Ethan leans in toward Mia, the entire cast grimaces.
Their singing? Great.
Their acting? Solid.
