I was beyond embarrassed. The question came out sounding harsh and accusatory. There was zero concern in his tone, but then I looked at his face. It was full of concern, or maybe he was just really good at faking.
I didn’t know if I should admit it to him. It would make me come across weak. And then I thought that could work to my advantage. In a sick, twisted sort of way, he might like to hear all about it, feign concern while drawing me into his confidence. I couldn’t know now how he would use that information in the future.
“I have panic attacks every now and then,” I admitted.
He was silent for a moment, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“From what?” he asked.
“I have a bad case of claustrophobia,” I explained. “And yes, I know I was in a hallway. Not exactly a closet or anything. But I had an attack anyway. I don’t really know what triggered it.”
That was a lie. I freaked out about all the pretty, frightened girls I saw. Or imagined. I couldn’t remember. I just knew that something silent and wicked was happening at this school, and my body went into shutdown mode because of it.
Cal drew in his breath. “So I guess you don’t do the whole making-out-in-the-back-seats-of-cars thing.”
I stared at him, shocked.
“Oh God, I was only joking,” he said quickly. “It was supposed to be a joke.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just replied, “I’m gonna get a drink.”
He caught my arm as I stood up. “Brooke, I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say.”
I ignored his apology in favor of focusing on the fact that he called me “Brooke.” For the first time. He’d addressed me dozens of times in the hallway. Always “Brooklyn.” Now I was “Brooke.” He knew he messed up and had to fast-track his plans. For a brief moment, I thought there’d be no more games. No more making me work to get into his little club. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity to claim me, especially if he could witness a panic attack as a result.
“It’s okay,” I said. “But I really am thirsty.”
Cal jumped up and shoved the camera in my hands.
“I’ll go. You stay here,” he said. “What would you like?’
“Just a water,” I replied, looking down at the camera. I hoped he didn’t expect me to take pictures while he was gone. I didn’t even know how to use this monstrosity.
“Okay,” he said, and hurried to the concession stand.
I stuck my face against the camera tentatively and looked through the lens. I tried the large button on the right side and snapped a picture of the gym floor. I pulled the camera away to study my shot. It was a blur of muted yellow. I tried again, shoving my face against the camera and moving it up and down the bleachers. I couldn’t believe the crowd that showed up to watch a volleyball game. Not nearly as big as a basketball game would draw, but it was still a healthy number. The girls’ team should be proud, I thought.
I almost put the camera down when I spotted Ryan sitting in the top corner of the bleachers. He watched me looking at him through the lens, his brows furrowed. He didn’t look happy. I tried to focus the lens, and succeeded in getting a slightly sharper view of him. His hair was a sexy, tousled mess, like that 1960s throw-back style so popular with the boys right now. I’m glad his bangs didn’t obscure his piercing eyes, though. Nothing should ever cover up those eyes.
His jaw was clenched, and I wondered why he was angry. I thought absurdly that he was angry with me, and I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I stood paralyzed, unable to take the camera off of him. He refused to avert his eyes. I almost thought he was trying to tell me something, but I was too stupid to understand.
“What are you doing?” It was Cal addressing me from behind.
I whirled around to face him, peeking from behind the camera.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Cal looked at me, then up at the stands.
“You don’t want to have anything to do with that guy,” he warned. “He’s one of those crazy loners. I think he’s on meds or something. A ticking time bomb.”
I lowered the camera. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I was just taking pictures of the fans.”
Cal snatched the camera and searched the recent shots. “Oh yeah?” he asked, finding no shots at all.
My face flared up again. “Well, I was trying to anyway.”
“I’m serious, Brooke,” Cal said, handing me a bottled water. “I just want you to be safe.”
I took the drink, thinking that “safe” had nothing to do with it. What I really heard underlining Cal’s warning was, “You get involved with that guy, and you can forget about me.” I was thrust into the middle of another unfair situation. Karma, maybe, for my past mistakes. I was undeniably attracted to Ryan. And I felt an attraction on his end. But I couldn’t do a thing about it. I couldn’t even talk to the guy, at least not at school. I couldn’t risk Cal seeing.