Page 18 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

ELIZABETH

As much as I wanted to sleep like the dead, I ended up having a restless night.

I couldn’t get Wily out of my brain. His scent seemed to permeate my room—this manly deodorant smell mixed with male sweat or something?

That should be totally gross, but as I was getting dressed this morning, I kept sniffing the air like I was searching for that smell again.

Seriously. What is wrong with me?

Grabbing my only pair of jeans, I put them on and check my reflection in the mirror.

My lips pull into an unhappy frown the way they always do.

I wish I could wear these like other girls at school, but my legs are so solid, and all my bulgy bits seem to get highlighted to the extreme when I wear pants like this.

So, just like I always do, I end up taking them off and going for a dress instead.

My mom made me this one last year to help with the colder winter months. It’s made with material that has merino wool in it, so it’s super warm. Not that I feel the cold too much, but I love how soft the fabric is. And I like the way it swishes around my ankles when I walk.

It’s probably not the height of fashion, but I don’t care. I’m pretty sure even if I tried to be chic or cool, I wouldn’t be able to pull it off. My brain just doesn’t think that way.

And so I settle for comfort.

Throwing a scarf around my neck, I pull on my winter coat, pack my bag, and head for Java Jeans. I know Wily said he’d meet me here this morning, but he’s working out right now, and I figure I can sneak in my daily walk and a quick caffeine injection before I have to see him.

My lips twitch as I picture his face, his blue eyes so bright and happy every time I compliment him.

He obviously has no faith in his academic ability, and I’m still not sure he gets how much of this assignment he’s done himself.

I’ve just been asking him questions—he’s the one coming up with the answers.

That’s all him, and he should feel proud of himself.

I check my room one last time before closing the door, my lips growing into a broader smile as I picture him hunched over my little stool. His body is so tall and broad and muscular, and he looked comical squished up against my desk last night.

So sweet of him to let me use my own chair, though.

He does seem to have some real gentlemanly qualities.

Barring the mental undressing thing, which I really don’t want to think about.

Hurrying outside, I murmur a soft thank-you to the girl who held the door for me, then set a quick pace to the coffee shop.

I like to get my thirty minutes in each day, so I take the longer route there, avoiding all the hot spots where Team Evil 2.

0 likes to hang. Although it’s probably early enough that I’m in the clear.

I’m a little out of breath by the time I get to Java Jeans’s front door, so I take a second to suck in a few mouthfuls of air before reaching for the handle.

“Oh.” I step back and let a couple walk through the door, then end up holding it for the girl behind them and the other guy behind them.

I’m now fifth in line and scanning the board for my order. I don’t know why. I always get the same thing anyway.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” a friendly voice chirps behind me.

I flinch and spin, pasting on a smile when I spot a girl from my Rhetorical Theory class. “Oh, hi, Megan. How are you?”

“Yeah, great. Just grabbing a cup of joe before I have to face Professor Lynch. Have you ever had her?”

“Lynch,” I murmur, shaking my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’d definitely know if you had.” She laughs. “That woman gives new meaning to the word battle-axe .”

“Yikes.” I let out a soft laugh, my stomach starting to itch. I ignore the sensation, curling my fingers and begging myself not to scratch that spot just above my belly button.

“How about you? What are you up to today?”

“Oh… um…” I blink and try to think of something cool to say, but seriously? Like that’s ever going to be possible. “Just getting my morning coffee too.”

“Nice. Do you want to sit together? We can moan about evil professors until we have to go to class.” Her smile is so bright and expectant, and I’m not lying when I say a part of me is tempted, but…

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I have some homework I need to do while I’m here.”

“Oh, no problem. I get that.” She grins, then indicates for me to move forward.

I spin and notice the space in the line, quickly filling it while flushing hot with embarrassment.

My turn’s next and I quickly order, my hand shaking just a little as I pay through my phone. “Thank you,” I mumble to the server and shift to the counter where my order will appear in a minute or two.

I pretend to be doing something on my phone while secretly watching Megan. She’s so warm and friendly, easily coaxing a smile out of the teenager behind the counter. They have a little laugh together while she pays, and I stand here wondering how people do it.

Megan walks over to me with another warm smile. She doesn’t seem upset that I rejected her invitation, but I’m feeling awful about it. Should I have said yes? Was I too rude?

Why didn’t you say yes? It’s not going to take you that long to proof Wily’s essay.

A shudder rumbles in my stomach, and I shift awkwardly on my feet.

No wonder I don’t have any friends. I can’t even respond to the people who are nice to me.

That’s because nice doesn’t always equal nice!

It’s true. I’ve learned that the hard way. Sometimes nice equals a false sense of security that leads you into a lion’s den (aka Natasha Lowinksi’s birthday party), and you end up getting pranked by Jade and Carmen, who you didn’t know were going to be there.

Upon reflection, I now know that Natasha must have been in on it too. It’s pretty humiliating coming out of the bathroom to find every single person at the party has disappeared…

I walked around the house, calling their names and didn’t know what to do. In the end, I sat in the middle of the empty lounge and started crying.

That was when Mrs. Lowinski came back and found me.

She told me everyone had gone to the playground for the outdoor games, and she’d only just noticed I was missing.

She apologized with a laugh and dragged me to the park, where everyone proceeded to laugh at me for being the last to arrive and I got picked as “it” for their game of tag.

Of course, I couldn’t catch anybody and ended up out of breath and red-faced while they all scampered out of my reach, goading me to catch them.

Mrs. Lowinksi eventually wrapped up the game, but not until I’d fallen over and scraped my knee.

After that, it was time to walk back to the house for cake and presents.

I thought that part wouldn’t be so bad, until Natasha opened the gift my mom had specially made her.

It was a tote bag made from material with ballerinas dancing on it.

It’d taken me hours to hand-stitch Natasha’s name in with beads.

Mrs. Lowinski thought it was stunning, but the other girls all snickered behind their hands.

My face was flaming as Natasha gave me a weak smile and said, “Thanks,” before shoving it aside to focus on the jewelry and makeup she’d been given by the others.

Jewelry and makeup my parents could never afford, and I knew nothing about.

I wasn’t into that kind of thing. To me, getting a personalized tote bag to put books in was the coolest idea ever. I thought Natasha would love it.

Instead, it was soon trampled on the floor with the other wrapping paper, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was thrown out after I left.

I managed to hold it together until my dad finally came to pick me up. As soon as we pulled away from Natasha’s house, I burst into tears and promised myself I’d never go to another birthday party again.

Taking a seat at a table near the back of Java Jeans, I try to push the memory from my mind. That happened when I was ten. You’d think I’d be over it by now, but it wasn’t just that one part. It was all the other instances when people at school had shown me kindness only to burn me later.

It’s seriously not worth getting too close to people. They only let you down and turn out to be something that they’re not.

Megan is probably a sweetheart. But she seems like the type who is friendly to everybody. I’m nothing special to her, and she’ll probably forget about me by the time she’s finished her coffee.

She remembered your name. She initiated contact.

Everybody always initiates contact. But what they do after that… that’s the part I can’t trust.

Pulling out Wily’s essay, I stare at his name on the page and realize I’ve been trusting him this week, haven’t I?

Only because I’m tutoring him. That’s different.

But you’ve been doing more than tutoring. You’ve been hanging out. You ate dinner together last night, and you weren’t scared to challenge him. And you didn’t sit there freaking out that he was about to turn on you.

I have no idea why I don’t worry more when I’m around him. If he walked in right now, I wouldn’t say I was too busy.

Because you’re holding his assignment!

But that’s not it. And I know it. And it’s confusing me.

Scratching my frown lines, I then grab a pencil and start reading over the essay. Picking pieces off my blueberry muffin, I nibble and read until a familiar voice has me jumping out of my skin.

“Morning, Satch!” Wily booms, despite the fact that he’s standing right next to my table.

I swallow down my gasp and crane my neck to look up at him. He’s so tall. Such a presence. His eyes so blue and vibrant, his smile so broad and playful.

I can sense every eye within a ten-foot radius is on us, and it makes my cheeks flame.

“Uh… good morning,” I reply softly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to buy you a coffee before coming to collect ya, but you’re already here.” Pulling out a chair, he takes a seat beside me, raising his chin to acknowledge the table next to us.