The Boyfriend League by Rachel Hawthorne Page A

on words or babbling when I spoke to him. I touched his hat. “Didn’t help. I still lost.”
    The game, anyway. I’d won a date.
    â€œMac’s pretty good at pool,” he said.
    â€œYou’re no slouch, either.”
    â€œIt didn’t look like you were paying attention.”
    In the beginning, until Mac had shown up, I’d been riveted.
    â€œWhen I was looking at the program last night, I noticed you and Mac play for the same university,” I said, doing our usual change-the-subject thing. “You must know each other pretty well.”
    â€œPretty well.”
    â€œHe seems really nice.”
    â€œHe’s a pretty good guy.”
    Not exactly a resounding endorsement. But then guys probably didn’t spend a lot of time complimenting other guys.
    He’s the best. He’s the greatest. If I were a girl, I’d definitely go out with him.
    â€œHave you seen Bird?” I asked.
    â€œYeah. She and Brandon left. Something about catching a movie.”
    â€œOh.” I looked around, wondering what to do now.
    â€œAre you ready to go?” Jason asked.
    I nodded. “Yeah, I’m really kinda wiped out. I guess I’m not completely recovered.”
    â€œTakes a while.”
    He finished off his root beer in one long gulp. I was mesmerized watching his throat work. He set the bottle on the table and got up. “Let’s go.”
    We went outside and stood on the covered porch. It was raining again. Hard.
    â€œCrap, I left the umbrella in the car,” he said. “Let me go get—”
    â€œDon’t be silly. I won’t melt.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œOh, yeah.”
    â€œOkay, then.”
    He grabbed my hand—his was so warm, so large—and we made a mad dash across the puddle-filled parking lot. He had his keys out and was beeping the locks before we got there. We both jumped inside, through opposite doors, at the same time.
    Laughing, drenched, and cold.
    â€œI’ll get the heater going,” he said, cranking up the car.
    â€œIt’s June, in Texas.”
    â€œI know, but I’m cold.”
    I was, too. I was shivering. Still, it seemed odd to use the heater in summer.
    Warm air blasted up through the floorboards. It felt so good. Wishing I had a towel, I used my fingers to wipe the raindrops off my face. My wet face that had been partially protected by the brim of his cap. Which would have worked if the rain fell straight down. This had been slashing across.
    â€œOh, no.”
    â€œWhat?” Jason said.
    â€œTurn on the light.”
    He did. I lowered the sun visor, looked at my reflection in the mirror, groaned, and slapped the visor back into place. “Turn the light off.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    I didn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see. “The makeup ran.”
    Not as badly as I’d expected, but I had dark smudges beneath my eyes and my bruising was more visible.
    â€œSo what?”
    I leaned my head back. “I look worse than I did the night you met me.”
    â€œI thought you looked fine.”
    I rolled my head to the side, so I could see him. Hoping the shadows made it so he couldn’t see me. “What are you talking about? I looked like a Cirque du Soleil performer.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œThe black dots around my eyes?”
    He shook his head. “I’m lost.”
    â€œYou were staring—”
    â€œOh, yeah.” He gazed through the windshield. “Sorry about that. I’ve just never seen eyes as green as yours. I was trying to figure out if you wore contacts.”
    â€œYou were looking at my eyes?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œNot the makeup?”
    He turned his attention back to me. “I didn’t realize you were wearing any. That night, anyway. Tonight it’s pretty obvious.”
    â€œOh.” Didn’t I feel silly? “I thought—” I shook my