Page 79 of The Cheerleader

“I was teasing.” Now he smiles, and my belly dips and tumbles like I’m riding the world’s best roller coaster. “Are you always so serious?” he asks, another rhetorical question.

I snort a laugh automatically, and it’s very unladylike, but I don’t care. “You’re one to talk. I think I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you actually smile.”

He nods, back to the quiet guy I’ve come to know. We stand in silence, not uncomfortable, breathing in the cold air and gazing at the brilliant stars in the clear night sky.

He steps closer to me, almost but not quite touching, though I can feel his body heat like he’s a furnace.

“What would you say if I told you I want to sleep with you?” He says this with no preamble, not even a cleared throat, vaporizing all thoughts from my head.

My heart bursts into wild clattering against my chest, and in spite of that, I feel like the blood’s drained from my brain. Maybe it’s all rushing to my belly and below because heat gathers there. My mouth drops open, but I don’t say anything because I might be in shock.

He waits me out, keeping my eyes captured by his stare.

“I…” still don’t know what to say because he’s blown my mind.

He’s done waiting for a coherent response and wraps his arms around me, pulling me smack into his body in a tight hold that leaves me feeling the strength of his desire, making his point come home in a visceral way. My traitorous body responds, bypassing whatever flimsy protests my conscience puts up. There’s no pushback from me, nothing but melting into his embrace.

His mouth covers mine in a scorching blanket, claiming me. Finally. I admit to myself the longing and satisfaction in a single inward sigh. Hunger takes over as my body responds without thought to the velvety tangle of his tongue with mine.

His mouth seals my lips, creating a warm dark cave of intimate bliss. His lips press, and I press back, nibbling, tasting. His tongue explores my mouth, and I let go of whatever restraint or reserve or sense of common decency I might have possessed before I met him, before he became the tragic hero starring in my dreams since I was a little girl.

He drops small nips on my lips, kissing the corners of my mouth as he withdraws, shocking me with his gentleness as he lifts his head, making me feel the loss of that intimacy all the more, making me want to pull his mouth back to mine.

But I stare into his eyes and try to match his self-control even as I still feel his arousal against me. Then he loosens his hold and steps back a fraction, enough for me to lose that contact. I bite my lip to keep the groan of disappointment from escaping. This kiss makes the last one seem like a warm-up, a dress rehearsal for the real thing.

And I enjoyed it too much because it’s so wrong to be kissing him.

Since when am I so wanton? I never found Todd so irresistible.

“Now you have something to think about,” he says and drops his arms, abandoning me. I should say something, but he doesn’t wait. He stares at me for one last beat, communicating all kinds of lusty desire, then turns and takes off.

The cold air hits me, waking me from my Bryan Granger trance. I hug myself as if to preserve all that fleeting warmth and intimacy I felt with him before it can escape into the place where dreams go. I head back inside.

I’m not the same, too preoccupied with that kiss and what it all means, and I wonder if Josh can tell. He doesn’t say anything before taking off on his break. I go through the motions of pouring beer and collecting tickets the rest of the night as if nothing happened, but on the inside, I’m all mixed up. Bryan has shaken me to the core. I know it’s stupid to want him, that it was wrong to let him kiss me, to kiss him back. It’s a betrayal of Liz, and it makes me feel sick because she’s become my best friend again.

It’s wrong to be thinking about sleeping with him. And yet, I can’t get his words out of my head. He’s confused me so much I can’t tell good from bad.

We stay late to clean up after all the partyers are gone. We talk with some of the soccer players and promise we’ll cheer for one of their games if they want, a rash promise since I think we might need permission from the athletic department.

Although we seem to be mostly on our own. We get the keys to the state cars and a gas card for away games now, and we’re sent on our way. No one accompanies us or seems to keep track of us. I’m not even sure Pete knows that we’re doing this fundraiser.

I’m surprised to see Bryan still here, helping to heft kegs into a truck. I’m not sure if the kegs are empty or full, but he’s having no problem lifting and carrying them out the side door.

I join several others in pushing a broom along the expansive cement floor. Half of me wants to run over to Bryan and throw myself at him; the other half of me wants to run the other way and hide, never see him again.

Okay, I’m officially being melodramatic, and I need to stop. I’m not that little girl who daydreamed about the boy in the ditch. I’m a full-grown woman with a brain, and I need to start using it. Also, I need to start paying attention to my conscience.

The ROTC hangar seems cavernous now that it’s empty. I find several things on the floor, like bracelets, a student ID, and some cash. We have a lost-and-found set up, so I go to the front door where it is. Liz is there counting money with the soccer team captain and a police officer.

The stacks of bills make my eyes pop. I don’t know what to say, so I clear my throat.

Liz looks up and stops, putting a pile of tens aside. “This is two hundred.”

The soccer guy—Alex Winn—puts a band around it and writes it down.

“We’re doing great,” she says, beaming at me. “We’re not nearly finished counting, and we’re up to over a thousand dollars,” she whispers.

“Wonderful,” I say as if I’m my mother. I add, “Really cool.” Why does the memory of Bryan’s lips on mine pop into my head now, causing a burst of guilt to erupt?