To my surprise, Larry stretched a hand to Troy on our way out as if they were old friends. “Good luck tonight, bro.”
Must be the suit.
We walked in silence until we reached the corner waiting for the light to turn. Aside from dauntingly waiting for him to say something about my drawing, it was strangely comforting having him by my side. There was a sense of protection that calmed my nerves—even if my nerves were all Troy-related. With one hand on my back, he shifted to walk on the street side. It was the faintest of gestures, but it was so gentlemanly that italmostmade me smile.
He wore his suit well. Not awkwardly. He wasn’t as fidgety as last night—or as I remembered him. He was secure and comfortable in his own skin. His chin raised, eyes level, but not a genuine smile for miles.
“I remember your sketches,” he finally said, his eyes on the street in front of us and watching the light. “You did the banners, the yearbook. And I think you also orchestrated…”
“The courtyard,” I finished as we walked across. His hand hovering behind me but not touching me.
“To set the record straight and to prove to you I’m no trespassing criminal, I secretly got permission from the Assistant Principal and the Dean to do it.” I bit my lip. “I just made it seem like it was vandalism and that we were breaking rules.”
He laughed. “Why?”
I shrugged. “To pretend I was badass. To break my nerd reputation. To start off my senior year as one of the cool chics.”
“I always thought you were cool.” His voice was distant.
“No, you didn’t.” Troy Hartman only noticed me after everyone at school thought I was so cool for what I’d set up. I got all the spray cans and outlined the design for everyone to have a small part. What no one knew was that I’d shown the finished product to the school and received approval. But no one had to know that.
My response made him look at me finally and the small smile faded. His eyes drifted and I wondered if he was trying to picture the sketch of him. The way too detailed for my comfort right now sketch of him and I wanted to sink into a hole.
Just be proud and screw everyone else.
Lately, I’d been a coward when it came to Troy. Except for yesterday, he was a lot easier to deal with—drunk, heavy and all, it was a walk in the park than the man I was dealing with right now. The man that had kissed me back like no one around us existed. The man who looked at me like he might have worshiped me at one point but didn’t know how to deal with it.
But he was hard. His expressions, his rebuttals, his stares, it was too intimidating, yet I kept showing up for the occasion.
“The angle…it looked like it might be from where you were sitting during Sunday's practice.” He casually changed topics back to the image.
“What else was I supposed to do while you kept me hostage during an hour-long practice? Sit there and stare?”
He raised a brow. “I imagine there was some staring.” He rubbed his jaw and winked
I shrugged as we neared another blinking Do Not Walk sign. “I had to keep busy.”
“Ever heard of Candy Crush? Or were you crushing on something else?”
“Don’t you have a game to get ready for, Mr. Suit?”
He glanced down at his clothes. His grin fading again. What the hell was up with that?
“You don’t like the suit?” he asked, looking down at me.
I was given the chance to scan him again. We were so close, I felt his breath on me when he spoke again. “Or did you prefer the outfit I was wearing when you snuck into my room last night?”
My eyes shot up as crimson filled my cheeks and he chuckled and winked. “I’m just messing with you.”
I started to walk before the sign turned and a firm hand gripped mine, sending electric heat through me at the touch.
A ringing phone broke our standoff and he reached into his pocket. It was clearly not who he was expecting when he released a heavy sigh. “What’s up Ryan?”
He listened for a moment and I could hear his tone switch as I stood next to him. Pedestrians started passing us when the light turned and people shoved past us. His hand still around my elbow, he pulled us to the side. “No, he’s not with me.” He released an aggravated breath. “That’s not my—Ryan.” He muttered the next words, but I heard him. “I’ll call him.”
He dialed whoever it was he was looking for and waited before pulling the phone off his ear.
8
