Page 61 of The Cheerleader

The yelling reaches a feverish pitch as they take the last gulps, and Mack slams his glass down hard and fast—and first. Liz follows a second later, splashing the last of her beer on the small table, spraying it all over her and me. Shit.

She starts to fall forward into the table, and I try to catch her, but someone else grabs her and pulls her upright. I look up to see who it is behind her.

It’s Bryan.

“Do you have a big red S emblazoned on your chest?” The words are out of my mouth before I think about it. My only excuse is that I’m floored. Where did he come from? He was on his deathbed an hour ago.

And now… He looks fresh and strong and so magnetically handsome his face should be rated a lethal weapon against innocent—and not so innocent—girls everywhere.

He aims that lethal face at me without humor. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Emceeing the WWF?”

“Leave her alone, Granger,” Keith yells out on my behalf and pushes his way in my direction. Some of the crowd has thinned, moving out the front door since Dane put a guard on the back door. Some of the others, mostly my cheerleader friends, pipe in their support for me.

“She did a great job,” Liz says, regaining some normal color and grinning at me.

Bryan lets go of her, and she immediately turns to him and holds on.

“Dammit!” he yells, his face screwed up in pain as he almost stumbles back.

I yank her away from him. “Liz—his ribs. He’s hurt his ribs. Remember? You can’t⁠—”

“Oh no! Bryan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He glares at her. “I know, Liz. It’s the booze, right?” He straightens slowly and walks away—not his usual quick, graceful stride. The way he walks now screams pain, in the stilted gait and snail’s pace of his movements, like if he shifts the wrong way he’ll crumble to the floor.

Mack meets him before he reaches the kitchen and hands him another towel filled with ice. I feel like that’s what I should have done. Like it’s my role to rescue him—the way I did back when we were kids. Like I still want to do.

Silly girl. I don’t even have booze to blame for my nonsensical feelings.

Along with Liz, I follow Bryan. He pays no attention to anyone who tries to talk to him or congratulate him as he passes through the crowd. Liz calls his name, still apologizing whether he’s listening or not.

For my part, I follow him because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. I want to be there if he stumbles, to catch him.

We follow him all the way until he turns down the hallway leading back to his bedroom.

Thankfully, Liz doesn’t attempt to go there again. Not that I’d let her this time.

Chapter Seventeen

Susie

English Comp is my favorite class—and the class I most dread. I can’t escape my fascination with Bryan, clinging to my girlhood impression of him as the brave and vulnerable injured boy who showed such unabashed gratitude for a small kindness, leaving me forever wanting to do more for him.

I sit with him in class every session now, and he expects me to be there even if he doesn’t talk much. I don’t take his silence personally. We don’t walk out together, but he usually says, “See you later.” That’s as friendly as it gets between us until he comes by for tutoring.

By our second tutoring session this week, it seems word has gotten around the dorm that he’s in the dining room, and the girls start hanging around to ogle him. A couple of girls even valiantly try flirting with him. He doesn’t encourage it, though he’s polite, as polite as a guy who doesn’t smile can be.

“Bryan, good luck at the UNH game,” one of the girls says. I think her name is Delores.

He grunts and turns away, making an exaggerated effort to keep his head down.

I open my notebook. “I’ve never been to UNH.”

He grunts again, staring down at his paper, trying to ignore the girls, which isn’t easy because they almost surround us in the dining room. Not only are they obvious about staring, they’re also whispering. They may as well be pointing. I glare at Delores, and she turns away.

“We—you should be able to beat them easily, I hear.”

His eyes dart up to mine. Challenge, to the point of defiance, radiates from them, and I feel the heat down to my toes.