I Hate Football Players

21: Stay Here

"Is that what you're wearing?" Jake's eyes dragged down me as I shut the house door.

"What?" I stopped on the porch. Sweatshirt, jeans, and comfortable sneakers. Ponytail and not an ounce of makeup. Comfortable. Me.

"You look ready to clean the house, not party in it." He pointed to my black shirt, which read, Senioritis is a disease with only one cure: graduation in block white letters. "You can't wear that."

"Watch me." From the two steps higher required to look him in the eye, I clutched my hips. His frown wouldn't have changed my mind, but I glared at him. Eight hours wasn't enough to smolder my irritation at his erratic temper. "Just be glad I showered after work."

Pizza Palace wouldn't impress any date, so the customers were families. A circuit blew on the air conditioner, turned the restaurant into an oven, and ended my shift early, but, refreshingly, not a single football player showed up.

"I wouldn't let you ride in the car," Jake said as we walked down the driveway. His white Ford gleamed with a recent wash, and the gray leather was slippery as I sat down. The reminder Dad bought him this car on a customer trade-in was a bitter sting. My birthday present was a new phone, which I accepted along with their joke of paying for all the service plans already in their unlimited plan.

I sighed as Jake pulled out of the neighborhood. Swatting girls off my brother was precisely how I didn't want to spend Saturday night. He assured me it was one girl tonight, but it didn't matter. Another party with kids at school I didn't care about. "We both know there's no part of me that wants to go." I huffed and pointed at him. "I was going for an 'I'd rather sit in the car' vibe."

"You nailed it." He rolled his eyes. "At least I don't have to worry about any dude hitting on you."

"That's the idea." Dark shadows of suburbian tree-lined streets passed by us. "If someone gets that drunk, then we're leaving."

"Like Kieran?"

Of course, he had to go there. With a smug smirk on the side, he sounded like Mom in her stupid Homecoming conversation. "In particular, Kieran."

"He's not the worst guy you could go out with, Ellie." His smirk dissolved into a genuine smile. "He's liked you since-"

"Since he tasted Camille's tonsils?"

I wasn't out for any guy, but 'not the worst' sounded like settling for low standards. Jake's shrug was so casual I could've asked what his favorite color was. "It didn't mean anything."

Not as forgiving, I shifted my gaze to nothing. Twitches in my legs shifted me in my seat, and I curled and uncurled my hands. My heart pounded harder the closer we approached. I didn't know whose house it was, but one encounter at the beach ended... not badly, but weirdly.

My exchanges with Logan replayed in my mind, of how he festered under my skin and he weaseled himself into my thoughts. How nice he smelled and the way his eyes darkened at our proximity. The second time's temptation was stronger but they were only physical reactions. Whenever he opened his mouth, bullshit spewed out. I squirmed again.

Jake broke the silence with a grunt. "Ellie, what is it? Other than not wanting to go to this party, you're edgy. It's not Kieran, I can tell."

"I'm fine, Jake."

But I wasn't. Harper's text to go on a date with Logan was no help. I hadn't expected her to abandon Team Elle and didn't appreciate her justification of 'clean out the cobwebs.' I hadn't shared every detail, but maybe she was onto something. Not the cobwebs, but a fake pretense date would reveal his intentions.