Gone Too Far by Natalie D. Richards Page B

around.”
    â€œYou going to study photography in college?”
    â€œYeah. You?”
    â€œComputer science, probably. Did you do any college tours this summer?”
    I open my mouth to answer and then snap it shut.
    What the hell is this? Why is Nick Patterson—standing here in his tight football pants and his Under Armour shirt—talking college plans with me? And while we’re at it, why am I still out here? Because hanging behind the bleachers to chat up a football player isn’t me.
    â€œYou don’t like talking to me very much, do you?” He’s looking me right in the eye, shoulders relaxed and voice even.
    I, on the other hand, feel like a rabbit dodging an oncoming lawnmower.
    â€œNo. Yes. I—” I cut myself off, feeling my cheeks flush as I look up at him. “Why would you think that?”
    I expect him to shrug or blow it off. Change the subject. It’s the guy thing to do, right?
    â€œFor starters, you glare at me a lot.”
    So much for dropping it.
    â€œI don’t…” But yeah I do. I’m glaring right now. I bite my lip and force the laser beams out of my eyes with a chuckle. “That’s not intentional, I swear.”
    â€œI’m guessing there’s still a reason, though?”
    I shrug. “I guess I don’t get this.”
    â€œDon’t get what?” he asks.
    â€œWhy you’re suddenly so helpful and interested and chatty .”
    â€œIs it a problem?” he asks.
    â€œSince you probably couldn’t have pointed me out in a lineup until this week, it’s a little weird.”
    â€œI wouldn’t bet on that if I were you,” he says, and there’s a teasing gleam in his eye.
    I shake my head, thrown off by his comments and his dimples. “Okay, fine. So what gives? What’s the point here?”
    â€œI didn’t realize there needed to be a point.”
    He smiles and every single part of me notices. Not just the smile—all of him: the line of his shoulders, the size of his hands, the clean, soapy smell coming off of him. Nick steps a little closer, his cleats scraping against the cement. I take one sharp breath. And then another.
    He’s flirting with me.
    Wait— he’s not single .
    He is a not-single football player dating a girl who has delighted in my misery for years. More importantly, he’s friends with Jackson Pierce and Tate Donovan. He stood in that hallway and let them rip Stella to pieces.
    Oh my God, is that why he’s talking to me? To protect them?
    I feel the blood drain out of my face as I meet his eyes. “Is this because of Stella?”
    â€œI’m sorry?” he asks, looking lost.
    â€œStella,” I say, and her name feels like a hot coal in my mouth. “That morning in the hallway. You were there when Jackson and Tate—you saw me there. You started talking to me after that.”
    He frowns. “I started talking to you when I found your wallet in the grass. I had no idea that day would…”
    â€œWhat, did you think she’d just bounce right back?”
    â€œI don’t know what I thought. The whole thing was news to me. They hadn’t even told me about the tape.”
    â€œBut they’re your friends. Your good friends, right?”
    The kind of friends you’d protect.
    I don’t say the last part, but he must see it because he shakes his head.
    â€œThat day has nothing to do with why I’m here. Look, I know that was a mess. It was a mess before that day, before the tape even existed.”
    â€œWell, then I guess it’s perfectly okay for them to terrorize Stella the day before she happened to walk into a train.”
    He blanches. It’s like watching a cloud pass over the sun. “None of us dreamed—no one’s okay with it. You have to know that.”
    I’m fired up now, moving closer with my fists clenched. “The only thing I know is that you’re