Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) by Kristi Pelton Page B

you talking about the Journey thing? That was pretty cheesy.”
    “Yes!”  He laughed out loud and it sounded musical. “When I heard that song, Lights , come over the speakers through your house—you made me smile and I hadn’t smiled in a while. You know that song was written about San Francisco, don’t you? Anyway, I don’t care how cheesy it was. It made me feel good . You made me feel good.”             
    I longed to say something but didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I just looked at him.
    “Emma?”
    “What?”
    “You OK?”
    “Uh, huh.” I wasn’t though. “I have a question for you and I don’t know how to ask it.”
    “Just shoot.”
    “I’m not as good with words as you are.” I was already struggling.
    “You’re fine.”
    I hesitated. If he only knew. “Why…me?” I asked reluctantly.
    “What do you mean?” He seemed confused.
    God! He didn’t understand and I knew I couldn’t explain it. He was one of the hottest seniors in the school and here he sat in the cafeteria with me. He had girls ogling and it didn’t seem to faze him.  I knew they all were thinking the same thing as I was. Why her?
    Thankfully, the bell rang.
    I stood. “I’ll explain later,” I said.               
    “OK. Do you want a ride home after practice?” he asked.
    I always rode home with Ryan and today I wasn’t going to rock the boat.  “Um, I’ll probably just ride home with Ryan. But thanks.”
    “OK. See ya.” He squeezed my hand before disappearing in the mix of kids.
     
    After school, Ali was down with a sore throat so she punted cross country. It was lonelier today but I was certain I earned a better time even though we ran the three miles on our normal cross country path behind the school rather than the track. After I changed and left the locker room, I found Grant waiting outside.
    “Hey, Runt.”
    “What’s up, Grant?” I asked shocked to see him.
    “Ryan took Claire home after cheerleading practice. He asked me to tend to you.”  Grant laughed.
    “Nice. ‘Tend to me?’ Like it’s such a chore.”
    “Come on.” He threw his arm around my shoulder and dragged me toward his pickup.
    “Claire and Ryan?” I was confused. “When did that happen?”
    “Today, I think.”
    “Claire?” I repeated.
    “Shut up. She’s hot.”
    “She’s a fake bitch.” I acted like I shoved my finger down my throat. “I thought it would be Estelle, again.”
    “Nope. She blew it. Apparently hooked up with some other dude this summer.”
    It was as if he’d knocked the wind from me. I fought for breath and felt dizzy for a second.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream, cry, run or hit Grant for saying it. But jealousy burned inside of me, and I shook my head trying to get rid of the thought.
    “Who was it?” The words were barely spoken.
    “I don’t know. Ryan does. What a bitch.”  My slow pace must have annoyed him because he grabbed me, threw me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and ran to the truck dumping me on the hood.
    Laughing, I shouted, “you punk!”  and slid off till my feet hit the ground. He had opened my door and moved around to his side. I used the running boards to boost myself up and once in the truck, my dinky little legs dangled over the seat and my feet barely touched the floor. I slammed the door and smacked his shoulder. The smell I’d loved for the past three years—his smell—saturated the inside of the truck. He laughed and started the engine. As he reversed out of his spot, I glanced out the front windshield. Zach stood about fifty yards from us and stared. Grant waved and I sat frozen.

T EN
     
     
    The moment I got home, I texted Zach. Nothing. I slept with my phone that night. 
    The next day, I was anxious at school. I watched the clock and though texting wasn’t allowed in school, I kept a close eye on my phone—hoping. No messages.  I ran straight to Algebra eager to be in my seat before Zach. Being