Page 7 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

I nod.

Rhoads holds a brown paper sack out to me. “How about some post-game sugar?”

I peer at the bag’s contents, trying to ignore my pounding heart. It’s just residual adrenaline from the game. Nothing to do with how close we’re standing. “What do you have?”

“A bit of everything. It’s all close to expiration so the concession moms were pushing it hard. Though I’m not sure I believe anything this processed could ever truly expire.”

I select a watermelon hard candy.

“Take more than one. Please. Save me from myself. And a mouthful of cavities.”

I shake off the urge to comment on how perfect his teeth seem to me and fish out two more watermelon candies.

“I see you have a type,” he says.

Broody bad boy is not my type.

Not mine either, Charlotte.

“Hmm?” I unwrap one of the candies and pop it in my mouth. Pure, sugary goodness melts across my tongue.

Rhoads nods at my selection. “Of candy.”

“Oh.” I look at the pink sugar pieces in my palm. “I guess so. Chocolate or brown sugar Pop-Tarts and watermelon hard candies.”

Rhoads cocks his head. “Interesting distinction.”

“I’m an enigma. At least my eating habits are. Or so my friends have told me.”

“I like enigmas,” he says. He leans closer. The air between us crackles and prickles the back of my neck. Citrus and cedar replace the smell of grass and stadium popcorn. His dark brown eyes meet mine, and my knees melt like chocolate in the sun. “Keeps life exciting.”

“Chloe! Do you want me to egg their bus?” Anita rushes over and wraps me in a tight hug, saving me from myself.

“No! Do not commit a petty crime because of me. I’ll be fine. I just have to sulk for a while.” I laugh and pat Anita on the head. “Take a chill pill, Annie.”

“Unlikely,” Charlotte says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You know her.”

“Rhoads Simpson, meet my best friends, Anita and Charlotte. Best friends, this is Rhoads.”

“We’ve met,” Anita says. Right. Her twin brother plays on the boys’ soccer team, too. “Hi again.”

“Nice to meet you, Rhoads.” Charlotte raises her eyebrows at me. I pretend not to notice.

“Hi,” he says. “So, Anita’s a sports freak, huh?”

I nod. “The worst.”

“I’m standing right here.” Anita punches me lightly on the shoulder. “I’m a product of my environment. Unfortunately, Kyle got all the athletic genes. I’m totally uncoordinated and have the lung capacity of an asthmatic fish on land. So, I play nothing and cheer for everything.”

“She’s a superfan,” Charlotte adds. “What’s in the bag?”

“Candy. Please, take some.” Rhoads shakes the bag at her.

Anita and Charlotte both take something chocolate.

He locks eyes with me again in silent conversation. Heat flares up in my cheeks. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just warm tonight.

“Simpson! Stop flirting and let’s go! Hash browns wait for no man.” Rhoads’s friend Dillon waves from near the concession stand.