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My heart thrashed. “Wait, what? You’ve seen me dance?”
He grimaced. “I, uh, passed by your ballet class one time and saw you.”
I felt hot all over. Did he just happen by, or did he seek me out? No way he’d do that on purpose. Right? But he’d just met me halfway to the main building—was that by happenstance too?
“Oh God.” I hid my face behind my hands.
“Don’t do that.” He reached for my wrists and removed my hands. His were big and warm and calloused, and I found I liked the feel of them. “You’re really good.”
“Thanks. I did have to audition. It’s not like I’m here only because they decided to give a scholarship to some disadvantaged kid, no matter what anyone thinks.”
“Obviously. They wouldn’t dare ruin their reputation like that.”
We laughed, and for the first time since the hospital, I felt we were on even ground.
“So, uh…what’s with the Band-Aids?” He tapped my wrist. “Does it have to do with dance? Like an injury?”
“Oh, there’s the bell,” I said, glad for the perfect timing. “Gotta get to class.”
“I’m sorry if I pried,” he said as I turned to go.
“Nah, it’s cool.” I knew it was only curiosity, but I was still embarrassed by my nervous fixation. And I had grown so dependent on it I hadn’t been able to curb it this semester. In fact, I chewed them raw last night while lying in bed and thinking about all sorts of stuff.
“Oh hey, one more thing.” He fell in stride beside me. “You said you watch your sister, but are you ever able to hang out on Saturdays?”
“Not too often. Why?”
“Sometimes there’s a party. After the game.”
College games were played on Saturday afternoons; I knew that much. But that was one of Mom’s biggest days at work, and she normally got started between the lunch and dinner rushes.
“Are you trying to get me to come to your game?” I teased.
“No. Well, maybe.” He didn’t meet my eyes. “I mean, your friend is in the band. I figured you’d at least want to support him, if you don’t want to support the team or anything.”
“It’s not that I wouldn’t. It’s just, football is really not my thing,” I admitted.
“I hear you. At least think about it?” he asked as we fell in line behind the throng of students.
“I will.” I turned away so he didn’t see my smile.
8
HENRY
We were upby a field goal in the fourth quarter, and I was giving the offensive line a pep talk as we huddled together on the field. “We’re gonna put more points on the board and keep our lead. Who’s with me?”
There were murmurs of agreement and fists thumping shoulder pads as we broke apart to line up at the forty-yard marker. I avoided glancing in the stands the entire second half of the game. It was unlikely that Lark would be in attendance this late in the game anyway, and did I really expect to spot those blond, wavy locks in the crowd? Why I thought he’d show simply because I’d asked him was beyond me.
Besides, my parents were present for every Sentinels’ home game, and no way did I want to appear distracted. I hadn’t told them that Lark was a student at Roosevelt. Not only would they never have envisioned such a thing, but the subject rarely came up anymore if they could help it.
I waited for the signal from the coach to make sure he didn’t want to change it up last minute. People might call us dumb jocks—talk about stereotypes—but the truth was, we were required to memorize dozens of plays and be ready to execute them at a moment’s notice.
Coach still gestured for a play-action pass, likely because the opposing team was hyperfocused on our running game this late in the fourth quarter. It was what the offensive did when they were on top, to eat time on the clock.
I crouched to take the snap from A-Train as my pulse hummed in my ears. Performing well was a different sort of anxiety and normally transformed into confidence on the field. One of the only places I could let loose and rely on pure skill.
I faked a handoff to our running back, then circled in a wide arc to look down the field. Flash was wide open near the twenty-yard line, and I didn’t overthink it, just threw him a perfect spiral. He broke one tackle, then two, and ran the ball into the end zone. The crowd went wild. I threw my arms skyward to mimic the ref, who had called it a touchdown, and ran toward my teammates, who were celebrating downfield.
