Getting Caught by Mandy Hubbard Page B

It’s ball that got me the scholarship. Last I checked they didn’t have writing scholarships.”
    “Do you want to go to college?”
    He nods. “Of course.”
    “Or do your parents want you to go to college?”
    “Uh, well—” He gives me a hard look, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to hide his discomfort. Then he laughs. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? I feel like I’m being questioned by the FBI.”
    I smile sweetly.
    “I want to go to college,” he says definitively. “I want to play ball. After that, there’s no plan. But I thought that’s what you’re into? Flying by the seat of your pants and all that?”
    “Sure. But the point is to do it because you want to be adventurous, not because you’re indecisive.”
    He sighs, defeated. “So when do you start skydiving and climbing Mount Everest and wrestling mountain lions? After graduation?”
    “Well, I’m thinking of working on a cruise ship. Saving up some cash,” I say proudly. “We’ll see.”
    He slurps up the last of his Coke and says, “But really, Jess, aren’t you just escaping? Willow High treated you like crap, and you’re running away from it.”
    “What? No, I—”
    “The real world is a lot crueler. What makes you think you can survive there?”
    Now it’s my turn to growl. “I could get along just fine at Willow if I wanted to. . I choose not to fit in.”
    “Okay, okay,” he says, leaning back and putting his hands out. “Just checking.”
    I hadn’t realized it, but my voice had been rising. I didn’t really care what the Peytons and Bryns of the world thought, but for some reason, Dave always got under my skin. Even when he was across the room, he mattered to me. And I’m not sure why I felt the need to convince him that not following ninety percent of seniors off to college didn’t make me a total moron, but his patronizing tone meant I wasn’t getting through. So why would he want to date someone he obviously thought was headed for a bleak and pathetic future?
    “I don’t get people like you,” I mutter, shaking my head. “What’s it like to be so absorbed in what the world says you should be doing that you never consider what you want to be doing?”
    He wipes his mouth with a napkin and smiles. “The world says I shouldn’t be going out with Jess Hill. But here I am.”
    “Ooh, big deal.” I jab my thumb back to where the two old men have fallen asleep in their coffees. “The only witnesses to this are a bunch of Alzheimer’s patients.”
    He narrows his eyes. “You’re a tough girl to please.”
    I bat my eyelashes. “Does that mean you’re not going to try?”
    He grins and motions for me to lean across the table, and as he does the same, I can tell I’ve sparked his competitive side. He brings his mouth close, so close that his breath is warm on my ear, and whispers, “Just the opposite.”
     

Chapter Fifteen
    Peyton
     
    As I push my way through the swinging doors backstage, I get a tingling sensation. Something’s up. When everybody sees me, they look away—no one is looking at me for more than two-point-five seconds. Not a good sign.
    When I walk into the girls’ dressing room, I know something is going on. Bryn is sitting on a couch, a program for the musical on her lap, and her face scrunched up so it looks like a wrinkled prune. When she sees me, she cringes and holds it out.
    I grab the program and I scan down to Patty Simcox . “Pays for Bent Wood? What does she think she’s doing?”
    Bryn shrugs and then, as if she thinks I’m a complete idiot, feels the need to explain to me, “I think she’s trying to prank you.”
    I rip the program in half and let the pages flutter in all directions. “Whatever. I can deal with it. Maybe people won’t notice.”
    Bryn gives me a doubtful look.
    I cross my hands at my chest and act like I’m not worried. “Hey. I sent thirty guys up to her with condoms, and she managed to make it work for her. I bet I can think of