I’m here . . . for her.
“So you and Elle, a serious thing now for real, huh?” Jake’s been good about not prying too much. I know it’s less about him respecting my privacy and more about respecting Eleanor.
I lean forward before answering to check and make sure his friends aren’t listening to our conversation. They’re busy trading someone’s phone around to watch some guy light his pants on fire while passing gas. Right now I’m grateful for dumb videos like that.
“We are, yeah. We’re pretty serious.” My stupid grin betrays me, and I’m sure Jake has read all he needs from my expression. He laughs a proud kind of chuckle and slaps the back of his hand against my leg.
“You dog! Look at you!”
I tighten my mouth and look up, practically under my eyelids. Heat from his attention to this topic creeps around my neck and down my back, squeezing my chest and stomach.
“It’s not just that. It’s . . . it’s more than that,” I say, leveling him with a warning glare that there will be no more details.
“You love her,” he says, and it takes me a few seconds to read how serious he is.
I nod and look out to the track, to the girls lined up and reviewing their moves for the upcoming routine. Eleanor’s face is painted with concentration, her mouth counting out every move, her arms motioning what she’ll do.
“Yeah, Jake. I love her,” I admit.
I glance back to my right and meet what I can only categorize as a proud stare. I think maybe there’s a part of him that’s in love, too, but that’s a conversation for another time. It’s too loud out here to get into miracles, and Jake being completely owned by a girl, that’s a miracle. I think maybe Gemma is the only one capable.
“You ask her to prom yet?” Jake can’t help but gloat over the fact that he won our bet. I was tempted to hide it from him, but I was too excited when Dale and I fired up the Bronco for real and took it for a spin. We spent another hour making sure everything was solid so I could drive us to the game.
“Not yet. I think she’ll actually be kinda bummed you’re not streaking,” I joke.
“Oh, I don’t need a bet to do that. Maybe that can be my gift to you two,” he says, standing at the announcement that the Badger Pride Cheer Squad was taking the field.
I look up at him for a few seconds before joining him. I don’t think he’s kidding about running through the gym naked.
Any questions I have get put on hold the minute the speakers crackle with the loud boom of cheer music. I’m half-tempted to force everyone to pay attention, but I’m quickly mesmerized by Eleanor and the genuine and confident red smile that stretches the expanse of her being.
Kacey, the girl who was supposed to replace her is still in the routine, which I know was a big deal for Eleanor. She struggled with taking something away from the girl when she learned how hard she worked to learn the entire routine. Coach worked it out so Kacey has a part for the competition, and Eleanor said her tumbling is really strong so having her on the mat—whatever that means—will earn them more points.
For two and a half minutes straight, these sixteen girls fly at each other while flipping, somehow never running into one another or dropping bodies on the ground as they toss them into the air. Eleanor is the star, though. She soars through the air, twisting while somehow holding her body completely straight, only to turn around and balance her weight on her heels which are held on either side by teammates as she moves into a perfect split. They come together to push her into a standing position and she leaps, tucking for a flip before her feet plant perfectly still in the grass. Jake and I both cup our mouths and shout as the music ends, his friends looking at us as if we’re love-struck tools. But I don’t give a rip.
I’m not a single bit shy about my affection. I have no doubts about how Eleanor feels in return, either. I rush down the bleacher steps and hop over the edge, a drop that was a little farther than I thought, which causes me to trip over my feet when I land. None of that slows me, though, and I step up to the fence by the track with my fists up in the sky as Eleanor marches across the lanes to get to me.
“Was that good?” She knows it is.
“Fucking epic, Elle,” I answer, bringing my hands down as she holds herself up, gripping the top of the fence. I cup her face and kiss her in front of everyone who gives a damn to see. And she kisses me.
“I have to finish the game,” she says as we part.
I shrug.
“But do you? Really?” Our team is being shut out, forty-one to zero so far. I can’t imagine two more quarters of this.
Eleanor pats my cheek before walking backward to join Gemma and the others.
“I do. Really,” she says. “But maybe I can get a ride home after the game? I hear you drove something special.”
I nod, mentally putting us in my parents’ place from all those years ago.
Unlike last week’s game, Eleanor does not bolt from the locker room in an attempt to break away and avoid people. Quite the opposite, she seems to be giving out autographs and talking to anyone who wants to praise her.
Eleanor finally doles out her last hug and turns to face me from the other side of the parking lot. I’m leaning against my Bronco, doing my best Jake Ryan impression. It’s the one lesson my mom gave me about romance—when in doubt, go with Jake Ryan. I must have
