First and Goal (Moving the Chains #1) (11 page)

How can I be upset about the rumors that have been circulating for nearly a year about me? They’re completely unfounded and result in propositions all day long. Then I turn around and not only listen to hurtful rumors about others, but assume they’re true. Worse, I’ve used them as weapons.

Rumors are a typical part of high school life. They start for any number of reasons. Jealousy, entertainment, bullying, gossip, it doesn’t matter. They all turn out like the children’s game of Telephone. Even the stories that begin with a grain of truth end up being completely wrong in the end. For as mature as we pretend to be in our teens, things haven’t really changed so much since we were kids. The only thing that has? It’s not a game anymore. It’s peoples’ lives. Their reputations. Their feelings.

Protecting myself by staying closed off and not blindly trusting anyone is one thing, but becoming exactly like the asshats at school that I can’t stand? Totally unacceptable. There’s being a crazy cat lady, and then there’s being a total bitch. And dammit, Rob’s right. I’ve turned into a bitch.

I mean, yeah, that was part of the plan. The problem is that instead of abandoning me for his next target, it really seems to bother him when I treat him badly. I don’t know what to make of that. It just doesn’t line up with his cocky persona. Then again, when it’s just the two of us, he acts so much like his old self. And dammit, it makes me want to be my old self too.

This is bad. This is all so bad. And yet…hell. I don’t even know.

The next time I roll over to check my phone it’s three in the morning. I’ve now catalogued an entire memory bank of my high school career, start to finish. There’ve been several eye opening epiphanies along the way.

One: I can’t be responsible for the actions of others, only myself.

Two: no one can make me feel something that I don’t allow.

Three: change is hard, but a necessary evil for growth.

Four: self-awareness is important and underestimated as a tool for said necessary growth.

And five: I really need to invest in some sleeping pills.

I’ve only been here a half hour, and I’m already dragging. It’s usually dead on Wednesday nights in the diner. Tonight is no exception. Normally, I don’t hesitate when my boss, Sheila, calls me in to pick up an extra shift. But it pisses me off when I have to change my plans to cover for a server that called off for no damn reason. I saw the “sick” waitress laughing and carrying on with her friends in the halls right before dismissal. She looked fine to me.

In my efforts to reform my bitchy ways, I kept my mouth shut and accepted the extra hours. Then I texted Rob and let him know I couldn’t make tutoring. He never responded. In all fairness to him, he was probably already in the locker room, changing for practice.

It completely sucks that I’ll be up ‘til the wee hours of the morning struggling through calc on my own. I wonder how pissed Sheila will be if I just take up an empty booth and crank out my homework for the night so I can actually get some sleep when I get home.

Working here for nearly a year, the kitschy sports-themed place almost feels like a second home. Even when the diner is packed with a hundred starving teenagers on a Saturday night, and I’m running around like a dog, one glance at the latest poster of the current season’s high school team makes me feel like I’d been at the game too. The only time I’m not serving other fans is when I’m at the football games in person. Basketball and baseball season are hit or miss, depending on my schedule. The owners of the place are huge supporters of Ironville High athletics. They work with me during the only season that my ass actually needs to be in the stands.

The added icing on the cake is that earning my own keep gives me a sense of independence. Getting out from under the thumb of minimally paid babysitting gigs for my aunts and uncles was a big step for me. The only reason they let me go without a fight is the looming cost of college. Everyone knows my dream school is NYU. I’ve got the grades to make it happen, but a full scholarship seems unlikely, so I’ve been saving every penny I make.

Making one last round to check on all my tables and deliver bills, I finally push through the swinging kitchen door to down a Mountain Dew and roll silverware. CJ, the evening cook, looks bored out of his mind. He’s harmless and flirts mercilessly in good fun.

“Hey Evie, you got any plans for after you get off?” CJ laughs at his own double entendre.

“Yeah, a little cuddling would be nice. You’re always so eager to leave after you finish.”

He laughs again as he walks around to help me roll silverware. “How’s your year going so far? Kicking ass and taking names like the awesome senior you are?”

CJ lives in the neighboring school district so the only time we see each other is when we’re both working the same shift. Our banter comes easily since we’ve been working together more often. The nights are always more entertaining when he’s around.

He’s tall and lanky, not at all threatening in spite of the tattoos that cover his arms. His warm smile and coffee-colored eyes could disarm even the frostiest female, myself included. He once spent an entire dead shift explaining to me the significance of all the tats as well as why he got his parents’ permission to start work on them before he’d even turned eighteen.

I guess that’s why he doesn’t bother me. He’s a completely open book. Never once has he tried to come onto me or solicit me in any real way. It probably also helps that since he doesn’t go to my school, he doesn’t have the same impression of me as most of the other people I interact with. The anonymity is refreshing. It allows me to let down my guard around him.

“Eh, same shit, different year. How about you? Slacking off and breaking hearts as usual?”

“You know me.”

I chuckle as he messes up another roll. “Exactly.”

“You land a hot stud yet, or are you gonna keep hitting me up to break your heart?”

I rub his shoulder placatingly. “Aww, sweetie. You know you couldn’t handle me. I’d be the one to break your heart.”

“Don’t I know it, Evie. Don’t I know it.” He gives up after failing another roll of silverware and leans his hip against the counter.

“I guess you won’t be here with me next Friday, huh? Maybe I’ll call off and come watch you do your thing.” CJ shoots a quick wink at me as I fill the bin, and he hefts it up to store on a shelf for me.

“Yeah, this week will be my last Friday night shift for a few months. You should definitely come and see a game if you can. But save your call off for when we’re playing your district, so you can come watch us kick your asses like we do every year.”

He folds his arms across his chest and directs a mock glare at me. “Now you know we don’t come from money like you rich folk on the football side of town. Shit, our schools shouldn’t even be in the same division.”

“Aww, poor baby. No one likes a sore loser.”

“Careful, sweetheart. The way you’re waxing poetic about your football team, you’re bordering dangerously close to sounding like a cheerleader.”

He has no idea how hardcore I am about football.

I place a hand over my wounded heart, but still manage to affect the appropriate California girl accent. “As if!”

“Evie! You’ve got a new table!” Margie, the hostess, calls out from the front end.

I smile as I hear the friendly older woman chat with the customer. She always takes her time to make everyone feel welcome and gleans all the gossip the townsfolk have to offer in the process. She’s so charming, I don’t even think they realize they're being pumped for information. She takes extra time with her favorite customers though. Not surprisingly, they are the ones who are usually looser with their lips than others.

I catch part of the conversation as they walk past the open bar area though they can’t see me from my spot in the kitchen.

“No wingman tonight, huh?” The older woman prompts.

“Nah, not tonight. I’m workin’ on my own now. Well, uh, I’m trying anyway.”

“It’s about darn time!” Margie responds enthusiastically.

My eyes widen, and my mouthful of soda slides down the wrong way. I recognize the male voice, laughing in response to Margie’s ribbing. Rob. He’s usually only here with a group of people. The man never goes anywhere without a full entourage, but tonight it seems he’s meeting a date…alone.

“You okay, Evie?” CJ pats my back as I struggle for air.

“Fine.”

CJ walks to the door, peeking out at the dining room. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gone out yet.”

He turns to me and rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you lie to someone who doesn’t know you? I’m not stupid, baby doll.”

“It’s no one important. Really. Don’t worry about it.” I grab my pen and pad off the counter, shoving them in my pocket as I make my way over to where CJ cranes his neck, trying to get a view of Rob.

“You got a little crush, Evie? I never pegged you as the type to go for an all-American beefcake.”

“What? No way! That guy irritates the shit out of me!” The venom that I can’t keep out of my voice must convince him that I’m not lying.

“You have any problems, you come back and let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

Although his offer is touching, a raspy laugh escapes my throat. Rob could pummel CJ without breaking a sweat.

Tension builds in my shoulders, and they creep up toward my ears. A stress headache stabs behind my already too-tired eyeballs. I take a deep breath and sidestep CJ before pushing through the swinging door into the dining area. My eyes scan over the dining room for Rob until I spot the back of his head, sticking up at least a foot above the booth directly to my right. His usual spot. Of course. I roll my eyes at my dumb fuckin’ luck. At least he always tips well.

“Do you want to wait for your date to get here, or do you want me to bring your drink now?” I wait as he pulls books from his bag, his back to me. Pretty sure I nailed the casual tone that I use with all my customers.

He jumps at the sound of my voice, but recovers quickly and places his materials on the table. His cheeks are flushed. It must still be hot outside though he’s clearly showered and changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans since football practice.

“I’m, uh, not meeting anyone,” he responds quietly, not meeting my gaze.

“Oh, but I thought I heard…” I must be irritating him because he starts flipping through the textbook a little too eagerly. I guess I heard wrong. “Alex meeting you then?”

“Uh, no. Just me tonight,” he shrugs and gives me a sheepish look.

“Oh. Okay. Really?” I can’t stop myself from looking around the room, convinced I’m being pranked somehow. “I…don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here alone.”

I raise my brows and sigh once more out of sheer habit. This has to be the weirdest week of my life, but I’m determined to hang on to the epiphanies of last night.

“I’ll bring your Coke.” I dash away before he has a chance to respond.

No sooner do I enter the kitchen than CJ gives me the stink eye. I ignore him, fill Rob’s drink, and rush back out to the dining room.

When I arrive back at the table with his drink and set it down, he’s working on the calc homework for tonight. It’s probably going to take me a solid two hours to do what he’s breezing through so quickly.

“How’d you know I wanted Coke?” He asks distractedly, still working through a problem.

“Uh, I told you.” Retrieving my sarcastic tone of voice from my sleep-deprived brain is a reflex. “You’re in here all the time with your crew, and I’m the one who waits on you. You always order the same thing. You want your usual burger and fries or do you want to wait?”

There’s no way Rob Falls is sitting in this diner alone and doing homework. There simply isn’t.

He takes a deep breath and lays his pencil down in the spine of the book. “Yes, please. I’ll take it now, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll put that in for you. It won’t be long since we’re not busy.” I turn to head back to the sanctuary of the kitchen, but freeze when a strong hand grasps my wrist.

“Eva, wait.”

I barely register his whispered words through the shock of his strong hand holding me in place. I’m entirely certain that I’m hallucinating his thumb caressing my wrist.

I really need to get more sleep at night and maybe cut back on the caffeine.

“I feel really bad about you missing a tutoring session today, so I actually came here to try and squeeze in a few minutes of calc with you. I know how dead it is in here on weeknights,” he says softly.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and pushing down the nausea that suddenly overwhelms me, I turn to look at him with an expression that I hope feigns some semblance of control. I know I promised him and myself that I’d try, but this is just too much. My first instinct is to lash out and question him again about his real intentions, but the words fail to materialize when I glance down. The sensation of his caress isn’t imaginary after all.

His eyes follow mine and widen; his cheeks redden again. He quickly drops my wrist. “Anyway, uh…if you have a free minute, we can finish up chapter two. If not, that’s cool too. I get that you’re working and all.”