Page 57 of Nightmare

“You’re like this…” He stops, thinking for a few heartbeats before he looks deep into my eyes, “Like this puzzle I need to solve. You’ve kept yourself closed off since freshman year, but our high school years are coming to a close, and I realized I would always regret it if I didn’t take the time to try and get to know you.”

His words catch me off guard, and I grin at him a little.

He continues, “You could be the most popular girl in school if you wanted to,” he waves a hand back in the direction of the party, “None of these girls have shit on you, you could be queen. So, why aren’t you?”

I don’t respond. I just look at him, trying to figure out where this is all coming from. He doesn’t know anything about me, so how could he possibly know where I would sit on the social totem pole if I put in some effort?

“Listen,” He starts again, “I get it. I’m in the spotlight every second of every day. Mister popular quarterback, yadda-yadda, if I could just play football without all the bullshit – I would. I don’t blame you for being a loner.”

I snort, “I’m not a loner. I have lots of friends.”

“In California?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and catching me off guard. He grins, “Exactly. C’mon.”

He puts a hand out towards me and I blink a few times before I slip mine into it and his fingers wrap around mine. We continue our walk down the beach in complete comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the ocean consume us.

By the time we reach the edge of the pier, he turns to me, “Want to go back to the party?”

I grin at him, like a dumb bitch, and whisper, “Not at all.”

His mouth opens on a smile, the moonlight shining off his bone-white teeth, then he pulls at me with our joined hands underneath the pier. The darkness envelops us, and the noise of the ocean follows. We reach a large rock, and he sits, motioning for me to sit with him.

Our thighs press against each other and a shiver runs through me, whether it’s from the chill of the late November breeze or something else.

I turn and stare at him, his brown eyes meeting my green ones. “You’re a lot different than I thought, Quarterback.”

He chuckles, “How so?”

I roll my eyes at him and crack a smile, “Popular jock, always surrounded by cheerleaders, king of the school. Doesn’t really scream‘down to earth.’”

He lets out a throaty laugh and throws his arm around my shoulder, “All I wanted to do was play football. That’s all I’ve ever wanted; the rest just comes with the position, I guess.” His eyes search my face, and he continues, “It’s easy to let myself fall into the stereotype, but sometimes I just want to be me.”

I nod, feeling his genuine nature radiating into me, and feel a little bad for him. Isn’t that why I’ve kept to myself for so long? Because I don’t want the pressure of being popular, being theit girl,thequeenlike Brody mentioned.

* * *

Monday at school,I’m yawning as I dig through my locker to find my gym clothes when Brody slides up next to me. I sense him before I see him, so I stick my head out of my locker, turning to give him a smile.

“Hey there, Quarterback.”

“Hey yourself. How are you?” He grins.

Brody and I spent about an hour under the pier before we went back to the rest of the party, to find Camilla with some jock’s tongue in her mouth. I left the party shortly after, alone, and spent the weekend online shopping and screaming like a thirteen-year-old about Brody on the phone to Summer.

Brody didn’t even try to kiss me when we hung out on Friday, and I managed to convince myself that it was because he didn’t like me. Summer spent a lot of time trying to talk me out of the hole of desperation, but it didn’t work. I might be a normal teenage girl after all.

“Good. How are you?”

His toothy smile makes an appearance and I hate the clench in my stomach that follows, “I’d be better if you’d agree to hang out with me tonight.”

A laugh bubbles up and out of my throat, “Is that you asking me out?”

“Yes.” His confident voice comes out quickly.

“Then, yes. Let’s hang out.”

His smile widens and my face heats up as I mirror his smile.

“I’ll pick you up at six, then.”

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