"Your girl?" Noah questions skeptically.
Noah's become one of my closest friends, and honestly, I don't know what I'd do without him. He tried to save my life, and now he's helping me with a project that means everything to me—something I'm probably way too obsessed with but can't seem to drop. Plus, he got me a job at his mom's flower shop this summer, so I can actually save money for college, which is huge.
We've gotten close, and Noah has made it evident that hewants more than just friendship. And I've been just as obvious about turning him down, which sucks because I hate hurting him. I keep telling him it's not about him, it's about me, and that's true. Noah would be perfect for someone. He's sweet and funny, and he actually cares about me. Any girl would be lucky to have him. But he's not the one who makes me feel like I'm going to combust just from being in the same room. He's not the one who's had me completely messed up since the day we met. That's someone else entirely—the boy who makes my heart do this stupid fluttering thing every time he so much as glances in my direction.
"Did I stutter?" London says with a possessive bite to his tone that sends those flips I was feeling into full-blown butterflies.
"Sorry, I assumed if she was your girl, you would have made it so after you pulled her from the lake," Noah says as Fisher and a few other players come over to see what's happening. "But you didn't because the star quarterback is more interested in his reputation. You wanted to play the role of hero. Your intention was never to keep the girl."
London's eyes flash to mine, and I see the second he snaps, and he charges. I rush in between the two of them. Noah may not be a football player, but he's not small either. I might be stupid for getting in the way, but I'm not trying to start a war. I'm not naïve. Noah's willingness to help was rooted in his hope we'd become more, but I refuse to let them fight over something neither of them have: ME.
"Laney, get out of the way," London grinds as my hand hits the pad protecting his chest.
"No, it's not what you think. Let it go," I say, attempting to push him back a step.
I watch as his incensed glare stays locked on Noah before finally dropping to mine. "What does it suggest that you had to say that?"
"Nice," Noah chides, and I grind my teeth. It's like he's asking for a fight right now while I'm trying to prevent one. "You're not fooling anyone with this act. What you want and what is are notthe same thing. She's right, London. Let it go…or should I say, let her go. Leave her alone so someone else can treat her right."
"Someone like you?" London spits.
"Yeah, I have real feelings, unlike you. She means more than a bet to me."
There are audible gasps from the crowd that's gathered around us. "Now it all makes sense," I hear Riley say somewhere in the distance. "Who leaves the captain of the cheer team for a nobody?" Her words don't even faze me. I don't care what Riley Heron thinks. Hell, I don't even care what all these people watching me live my moment of horror think. I only care about what the man standing before me has to say.
My hands fall from his chest, and I find the strength to look him in the eye when every part of me wants to crumble. "Bet… What is he talking about, London? Am I a bet?" There's a tick in his clenched jaw as his nostrils flare. With every second that passes, and he holds his silence, I have my answers. I was a bet, but I refuse to hear it from Noah Donovan. If this is where we end, I want to hear it from him. "Answer me!"
He flinches. "Yes."
The crowd oohs, and Fisher pushes through. "Fuck, Laney, it's not what—" Fish starts, but London holds up his hand, silencing him, his eyes never leaving mine.
"If I told you it's not what you're thinking, would you believe me?"
Gah, I want to scream. Inside, I am, because everything is on fire. My body is hot, my ears are ringing, and my heart is pounding so fast it feels like it's one pump away from giving out on me. For years, London Hale has been an enigma to me. His actions and words were always out of step when it came to me—or at least that's how I saw it. But after the night he saved me and the next where he finally kissed me, what I thought was out of sync started to look like expectation. I expected him to act a certain way, to make moves, and when he didn't, I was let down. You see, that's the thing with people. We can shut out the good byboxing them into our expectations. Fisher was about to cut in, and London stopped him, and if I had to guess, he stopped him because he doesn't want me to trust words. He wants to see if I trust what's inside me...if I believe in what we have…what I felt. There will always be an enemy ready to pull apart all that's good, and tonight, that enemy is a friend.
His eyes search mine, and I know he sees I want to say yes, but the words aren't coming. He takes a step closer, and his arm falls to my hip, where he pulls me closer so only I can hear when he says, "Heartbreaker, I'll grovel until the end of time if that's what it takes to heal the hurt I caused, but if you trust me..." His tongue darts out and licks the lips I've replayed covering mine all summer. "I was wondering how you feel about grand gestures?"
"I trust you—" hasn't even finished leaving my lips before his are colliding with mine. My brain momentarily turns to mush, the prying eyes, taunts, and whistles not nearly enough to pull me from the hypnosis his mouth covering mine blanketed over me. It's not until the hand that was on my hip slides down the spandex of my dance uniform and firmly cups my ass, giving it a heady squeeze that leaves a sting, that I come back down to reality. He pulls back and swats my ass. "Allow me to clarify. The only bet ever made was one where I bet on myself and went after the only girl I ever wanted." Then, turning to Noah, he adds, "And just so we're crystal clear, my girl means my girlfriend, which means MINE."
The crowd of teammates from my squad and his team has grown, and the oohs pick up in a crescendo.
Noah rolls his eyes, unimpressed by London's show. "Less than ten seconds ago, you didn't trust her."
The football coach blows his whistle. "Mustangs, locker room now."
Everyone glances back to the coach except London. "I trust my girl. It's you I don't trust."
"Hale, let's go!" the coach calls out, and London's arm draped over my shoulder disappears.
He kisses my cheek and lingers by my ear. "Meet me at my truck." Then, holding his helmet toward Noah, he says, "Watch your hands and your mouth. That's my girl. Whatever favor you found with her doesn't extend to me, Donovan."
I watch him walk off the field, breathless and stunned, like the rest of the people still looking on. The town's golden boy, who doesn't do titles, just gave me one. I'm London Hale's girlfriend, and while I might be his, he's mine too.
Chapter 6
Junior Year
LONDON
