First and Goal (Moving the Chains #1) (15 page)

Is it wrong that I love when people use big words in every day speech? “No, you certainly can’t argue that.”

“All right.” He rolls his shoulders. “First of all, country is my favorite kind of music, but not all I listen to. The only kind of music I refuse to hear is thug rap. I don’t really find criminal behavior entertaining, but I am a sucker for a good beat. Second of all, I’m not a Republican. I’m an Independent.” He gestures with his hands when he sees that I’m about to object.

We had actually gotten into some rather heated debates in Civics freshman year that I had honestly forgotten about until just now.

“Although I have conservative viewpoints and opinions, I refuse to lump myself together with that dying caucus of intolerance and hypocrisy, no thank you.” He leans back and mocks wiping his hands clean. “And lastly, I detest the term feminist. I think it has bad connotations that call to mind anti-male feminazis.”

Now he’s got my attention. I brace for the expected misogynistic tirade. Hope for it.

Come on, Falls. Make this easier for me.

“I wish it would just be called gender equality and
that
, I am all for. There’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t and vice versa. Except for you know, some actual biological things.”

Holy shit. I think I’m in love. Goddamn him.

“But I cannot stand when people try to hide behind feminism as a platform for their own twisted agendas. It has to be a two-way street. You can’t expect a man to hold the door for you, and then act like it’s an insult at the same time. There has to be a give and take, a reciprocity. Men and women can be equals, sure, but they’re also meant to be complementary.” He takes a sip of his drink, completely unaware that I’m blatantly staring at him in adoring shock.

Yeah, I could definitely be friends with this guy. Unless he’s totally playing me. He’s probably totally playing me.

Better safe than sorry, but still. I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation deeper than school gossip and weekend plans with anyone I currently call a friend. My mind is hungry for someone to really talk with. Something I didn’t realize until he opened his mouth.

The frightening truth is, I’m hungry for more of him. And right now he seems like the old Rob more than ever.

“Why…um, why do you seem so different than you used to be? And,” I rush to cut in, “I’m not trying to be offensive. Honest.”

“Wow. Uh. I’m not sure how to answer that. I don’t think it’s intentional. How am I any different? I’m still just me.” He splays his hands in defense, but his body language screams his discomfort.

It makes me feel a twinge guilty, especially since he’s already called me out on the same thing. But if I’m gonna give in and have more than a shred of respect for him, there are some things I need cleared up.

“Well, back in freshman year, that first week when I helped you find your way around? You were so shy and timid, and…sweet. And I actually was just remembering tonight how you and I used to argue our opposite viewpoints in Civics. You were always so respectful. It seemed like you were trying to convince me instead of argue with me.”

He laughs as the memory clearly returns to him as well.

“But then you kind of grew up all of a sudden sophomore year, and the girls were always throwing themselves at you because of your looks. I mean, you were still kind of awkward about it, but that was before the
ego
rumors ever got started.”

“What?” He laughs in earnest. “What looks? I’m like some doofy, overgrown giant!”

He shakes his head, sipping his drink.

“Okaaay.” It’s more than a little shocking that he doesn’t think he’s gorgeous. That’s gotta be a ploy on his part. He has to know how attractive he is, or he wouldn’t feel like that’s the only thing girls are after him for. “Well, what about junior year then? You suddenly went from just being more confident in your own skin to being an obnoxious jock. I guess starting that season went to your head or something?”

“No actually, it didn’t. I’ve never felt confident in my whole life except on the field. I thought I made that clear.” He refuses eye contact, his brows pulled together. His fingers tap a beat on the table. “I already told you I had my reasons, and I guess…with everything that happened last year…me being an asshole kind of stuck.”

“Well, what happened?”

He takes a deep breath, still drumming out a rhythm. “Something that I really wanted but thought I could never have was kind of shoved in my face all of a sudden. When it didn’t work out, I acted like a jerk about it. Which was ridiculous because it was totally my fault that things didn’t go down the way I’d hoped.”

He chews on his bottom lip. “I honestly wasn’t trying to act like a jackass after that blew up in my face. I just figured it was time for me to be more confident off the field if I wanted to captain the team better on it. I came to terms with the fact that it was my doing, or…not doing anything that had caused it.” He sighs, the sound heavy and weighted. “It changed me. I guess not for the better.”

“What was it you wanted so badly?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a serious and somber expression on his face. It’s unnerving. He’s shown me more emotion in this past week than I can recall ever having seen before from him. Whether I’ve intentionally done so or not, I’m in deeper than I wanted.

It’s eye opening to think there’s more going on in his head than whatever causes his usual perpetual grin and sparkly eyes. Knowing that it’s all an act is…well, I don’t know. Hits a little too close to home, I guess. I would never have imagined we have so much in common. It’s becoming clear that his obnoxious jock persona is an act. Under the armor that he wears hides the real Rob. The Rob I thought was gone forever.

He takes another deep breath, his broad chest heaving with the inhale and exhale as he watches me a little too carefully. “Something I still can’t have, I guess.”

I find myself studying his eyes. They appear green with flecks of blue and a blue rim around them. I’ve always known that they seem to change color but never before realized how honest they are, full of such expression and feeling that they honestly quiet me. My mind is hardly ever still. There are constant thoughts, an internal monologue, something always running through it. Staring into his blue-green irises as he silently stares back at me, there is not a thing going through my head.

The internal silence is a welcome break. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like he sees the real me too. And it scares the shit out of me.

F
ridays are quiz days in calc, so I stop at Evie’s desk to offer some words of encouragement before class begins. Her nervousness is palpable. She’s going to bomb it because she’s not confident enough in her own ability. She rushes out quickly when the dismissal bell rings, so I don’t get the chance to ask her how she did. If her anxiety to escape the room is any indication…she screwed the pooch. She’s sketchy the rest of the day. It could be because of the quiz, but she seems to be avoiding me again. I thought last night at the diner went well. Now I’m having second thoughts.

When I slide onto the stool beside her in bio, the second packet of questions is already on the lab table. These weren’t supposed to be handed out until Monday, but Mrs. Anderson is determined to shake things up this year.

“Well, at least we already got a head start on this last night,” I quip.

She laughs, but it isn’t her genuine musical one. She fiddles with the edge of her notebook. Something isn’t right.

“How’d you do on the quiz?”

She shrugs, not making eye contact. “Not sure. You ace it?”

“I think so. Ready to get started?”

“Sure. You go first.”

“Okay. Question thirteen: If you had a crystal ball, what would you want to know?”

“Jesus, these questions are stupid,” she mutters.

I laugh in agreement. “Pass?”

We both jump when Mrs. Anderson appears behind us. “No skipping questions, please. You won’t get the full benefits unless you answer them all openly and honestly.”

Wild horses couldn’t drag some of these answers out of me. “Mrs. Anderson, some of these questions are just downright hard. It would take me a while to think about my answer, and we only have ninety minutes.”

My response seems to excite her far more than it should. She quickly makes her way to the front of the room to address the whole class. “It has been brought to my attention that some of the questions require careful and thoughtful consideration before an honest answer can be given. Which is to be expected due to their inherent nature. Please take your time and do not be concerned about getting through them all during class today. Your homework for the weekend, in addition to what has already been listed on the class website, is to make arrangements to get together with your partner and complete any questions that you do not finish.”

The class erupts in excited chatter. Sentiments like “best homework ever” float to my ears as I silently watch the girl sitting next to me who gazes out the window. The partners behind us plan on making a night of it, The Bio Effect apparently in full force. Glancing around the room, everyone seems relaxed and to be talking animatedly about their weekend. Everyone except my partner.

The guilt I should probably feel about her discomfort refuses to materialize. Greedy bastard that I am, I’ll take whatever I can get. Forced or not. “Looks like you’re gonna be spending your Friday night with me after all.”

She levels me with an accusatory glare. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I tell her honestly.

She scoffs, one of her usual reactions to me. If there was any doubt before, it’s gone now. It’s clear when she stares at her handiwork on the notebook that nothing I said to her yesterday stuck. “Typical jock.”

“What I meant is I wouldn’t mind spending my last free Friday night with you, unless you plan on acting like a horny moron that can’t look me in the eyes.”

Three, two, one…

She looks at me defiantly. “I work all weekend.”

The struggle not to laugh at her predictable reaction probably turns my face red. “I thought you didn’t work Friday nights?”

She continues her determined stare. Keeping my amusement in check gets harder by the second.

“Well, the season doesn’t start until
next
Friday,” she huffs.

“Oh. Well, I can stop by the diner and work on it with you.”

She laughs dryly and shakes her head at me. There’s a hint of something in her eyes. “I’m not working on this with you while you’re on a date.”

“You know damn well I’ve never been on an actual date to the diner. And Alex isn’t going to be needing me as a wingman tonight.” I motion for her to glance several benches ahead of us where he’s already putting the moves on his lab partner, who responds enthusiastically. That’s one couple from AP bio that I know for a fact will not last long.

Evie doesn’t even try to hide the sounds of her disgust. “How are you friends with him?”

“I think there was a backhanded compliment in there, somewhere…”

She chuckles next to me as we watch Alex work his magic.

They always fall for it a little too easily if you ask me. They barely even make him work for it. The few that do are only acting, playing hard to get with the full intent of capture. Poor guy always breaks it off before things get too comfortable.