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He looks up at the sky for a minute and exhales. "Because, you're my best friend's little sister, and that makes you important to me."
There it is. The big difference between what I mean to him, and what he means to me. Not only are we on different pages, we're not even in the same damn library. And I don't think I can be around him like this and not feel that ache in my chest every time I think about how it'll never happen. To do that would be the most brutal form of self-torture.
"Can't we just go back to being friends?" The sincerity in his voice and on his face are overwhelming, but I need to protect myself.
My shoulders sag, and my arms drop dejectedly. "That's the thing, Zayn. You and I were never friends."
His face looks like I just punched him in the gut as Kennedy comes out of nowhere and throws her arms around me. I stumble just slightly, but I'm not sure if it's because of the random onslaught, or the way I didn't expect that reaction from him. Still, Kennedy doesn't even seem to notice he's standing there.
"We both got the job!" she squeals.
Zayn raises a single brow. "Job?"
I shake my head, but Kennedy doesn't seem to know that my elbow in her side is code for s
hut-the-fuck-up.
"Yep!" she answers. "You're looking at Hypnotic's two hottest new bartenders."
Okay, someone needs to teach this chick girl-code, because my God. It's not like she doesn't know that Zayn lives with my brother, or that said brother has the tendency to be overprotective. If he finds out I'm working at a bar, he'll lose his damn mind. I wouldn't even put it past him to hog-tie me in his closet until I promise to quit.
Zayn rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Do you really think that's the best idea?"
"Maybe not." I look him up and down. "But I've made worse choices."
My roommate snorts beside me, but my words lack the venom I had hoped for. Even Zayn shows a hint of a smile. However, I'm not sure where this newfound attitude is coming from. It's like someone injected me with a dose of confidence, at least where he's concerned, and that's good because I'm no one's doormat.
"Come on," Kennedy loops her arm with mine. "We have shopping to do."
"I thought the point of this was to make money, not spend it on clothes."
She chuckles and shakes her head. "Better clothes, better tips." As she pulls me away, she waves at Zayn without looking back. "Bye, Zaynie!"
Laughter bubbles out of me as I imagine how that nickname struck a nerve. Zayn is everything manly, and being called something like Zaynie is the opposite of that.
"You do realize he's going to tell Easton, and neither of us will make any tips with my brother warding off any and all men, right?" I ask her.
She waves off the whole concept. "One, I love protective Easton. It's sexy." I gag, and she snickers. "And two, Zayn needed to know. The best way to find out if he's interested is to make him jealous."
"That sounds dangerous," I say hesitantly.
"It is," she answers. "You're going to love it."
The stadium is filled with students, but none of them are the reason I'm here. I spent an entire year at this place without going to a single game. As much as I loved playing football in high school, watching the games here just isn’t the same. It's more for show and less about playing.
I follow Easton through the sea of people before finding seats with the perfect view. Not of the field—I could care less about that—but the sidelines, where Amelia is sporting a cheerleading uniform that makes me question my sanity.
What part of me thought this would be a good idea? While cheerleaders have never been my type, they've also never looked like that. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a big ribbon tied into a bow. She's talking to Kennedy about something and showing that perfect Amelia smile.
“You good?” Easton asks.
I snap myself out of it and nod. “Why wouldn't I be?”
He shrugs. “Because you were just zoned out, staring at Amelia.”
Fuck. Think fast. “Not her.”
His eyes widen. “Kennedy?”
