Page 47 of Becoming Us

I grinned at him, breathless. “It’s a fucking epic song, and I will not take any criticism.”

Applause broke out from a group of older girls across the courtyard. I gave them a gracious bow with a flourish of my phone-mic.

“Mr. Rossi, off the table,” a teacher called from across the lawn.

“Sure thing, Mr. Walters,” I replied, hopping off.

As I landed, I noticed a few lacrosse guys watching from behind the girls. One of them—broad shoulders, confident posture—was giving me a once-over. His gaze was unhurried, and when it finally reached my eyes, I smiled and winked. Heturned away like he hadn’t been caught, but the flush creeping up his neck gave him away.

“Not that it wasn’t an outstanding performance,” Colin said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “But I need to get to class. I’m still going to ask about the band position—you’re even a halfway decent singer. Maybe that’ll get you in.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.” I dropped into the seat next to Holly.

“Almost,” he called back, already walking away.

“I like him. He survived the cringe test. Can we keep him?” she asked.

My eyes drifted back to the lacrosse guy. He was probably a senior, sitting a little apart from the group, his eyes determinedly pointed away from me.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Who?”

“Hunky lacrosse guy,” I said, nodding toward him.

“Shane?”

“Is that the big one?”

“Yup.”

“Shane. Kinda hot name,” I mused. “He was totally checking me out.”

“Seriously?” Holly’s smile stretched wider—absolutely living for the gossip.

“A hundred percent. Bet you fifty bucks he looks again. Give him a minute,” I said, and we waited. Sure as shit, his eyes flicked back to me, then darted away.

“Oh my god. Shane is top of the food chain,” she said with an approving nod.

I gave him an appreciative glance. “I love guys like that.”

“Jocks?”

“Well, yeah. But more like the muscled kind. Thick thighs, ripped, veiny forearms—the works. If I had a type, that would be it.”

“I’m with you on that one. Beefy guys are where it’s at.” She shot the lacrosse table a theatrical leer.

Shane kept pretending I didn’t exist until he couldn’t help himself. His gaze found mine again. This time, he held it. I smiled, slow and intentional, and tilted my head just slightly.

The message was clear:I’m game if you are.

He shook his head a little, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. That was a yes if I’d ever seen one. After a moment—and several awkward neck rubs—he finally smiled and gave a subtle nod toward the building.

I grinned.

“What?” Holly asked as I started throwing my stuff into my bag.

I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to go play with that guy’s lacrosse stick. I’ll fill you in later. Love ya,” I said, already pushing away from the table and heading in his direction.