Page 89 of The Score We Never Settled

No marks.

No secrets.

No sneaking away.

No skipping class with him.

No poster signs of his name on it.

No matching.

No wearinghisnumber.

I’m sure there’s more that I can’t think of right now, but she’s already broken the no looking, no hand-holding, and no touching bit.

She breaks one more, I’m going to bust Cruz’s head open.

“You’re freakin’ people out,” Tucker alleges, like I give a fuck. “People are startin’ to stare.”

“Then maybe they’ll start puttin’ two and two together,” I deadpan, watching Layla bounce her head back and forth with a smile as she chews.

“What are you doin’?” mynotbest friend asks, like I’m really going to have a wholehearted talk with him about it. “Don’t start anymore bullshit on the team than you already have with Weston. He’s not worth it and, honestly, dude’s a waste of space.”

“Let’s end him then.”

Tucker doesn’t reply, probably because he doesn’t know how to. Not with his good-ole-country-boy ass.

He has a family and a mother and grandmother who love him. He doesn’t need a dad. They’re worthless anyway.

“Eat,” Tucker orders with another annoying nudge to my arm. “Practice is gonna be brutal today, and you need all the energy you can muster up.”

I don’t need to eat. I have enough pent-up aggression that’ll keep me aiming my balls at the plate and right at Cruz’s jaw.

Nonetheless, to keep Tucker from moving his all about, I pluck up a few fries and shove them in my mouth.

“Ketchup.” Tucker tosses a few packs my way. “And salt and pepper because you’re a freak.”

“I like my shit seasoned, Tuck. Not like your mama’s chicken.”

I don’t get a light elbow next, but a full thrust into my ribcage for dragging his mother into my inner turmoil.

“You better shut it, Kerrigan,” he grounds out. “Or I ain’t invitin’ ya scrawny ass to no more meals.”

I smile, glance over at him, and say, “Promise?”

“Hi, boys,” Layla Jean’s voice singsongs cheerfully, triggering into my orbit and headspace like a truck barreling into the side of the fruit stands, sending everything flying everywhere in disarray. “Fries again?”

Tucker is quick and easy to get his head screwed on straight because he answers, “It’s a food group, Layla. Been tryin’ to tell you that for years now.”

“Haven’t taken food and nutrition yet, have you?” she retorts with amusement.

“I did,” Tucker confirms. “And barely passed it. Zoe saved my ass with it, though. Girl’s a smart one.”

“How about you stop usin’ her for exams and your crammin’ and ask her out on a date?”

Tucker scoffs haughtily as if he’s too good for her when, really, it’s the other way around. “Zoe ain’t my type, Layla Jean. She snorts Magnolia Ridge for breakfast.”

“Maybe you should snort some of her good graces because she has connections in this town. I’m sure your mama would like that.”