I stand, rooted to the edge of Nisha’s backyard, watching as Thayer’s soccer buddies cluster around him greeting him eagerly. It’s a lot of guy-ish back-slapping and understated head-nodding. Laurel remains by Thayer’s side through every second, her eyes glued to his face. When she’s forced to let go of his hand while he says hi to the team, she looks almost like a boat that’s drifted away from its slip. She keeps a pale hand hovering near the small of his back and gazes up at him adoringly, possessively.
What I can’t tell, though—and what’s seriously killing me right now—is whether Thayer feels the same way about her. I think about the idiotic, I-don’t-want-to-reveal-my-feelings-so-I’ll-make-you-think-I-don’t-care thing I said last night: I think Laurel wants you to go. She has a crush on you. What if Thayer took it to heart? What if they went back into the clubhouse last night and Thayer confronted her about it? Maybe Laurel was like, Yeah, I really like you. Do you like me? And Thayer, thinking I would never like him, perhaps shrugged and said, Totally. Let’s be a couple.
He never actually denied having feelings for her, after all. And they were holding hands. My head starts to spin. I can’t believe I’m jealous of Laurel—because of Thayer. Everything about this night is totally inside out, and I only just got here.
“Sutton! Here’s that beer!”
I whirl around. Aidan is coming toward me, holding a bottle in his hands. There’s a hopeful expression on his face, meaning he completely missed my signals inside.
But maybe this is perfect timing.
I look back at Thayer, who still hasn’t acknowledged my presence. Two can play at this game, I think. There’s one way to discover exactly what Thayer thinks of me: to feign interest in someone else. It’s usually at the bottom of my bag of tricks, but I’m seriously running out of options here.
I turn to Aidan. “Thank you soo much,” I croon, taking the proffered beer from him and clinking my bottle against his. “Cheers.”
As I take a deep swig, I can almost feel the moment when Thayer turns and locks eyes on me. I peek over, and yes, he’s staring. Good. But then he catches me looking and arches a questioning eyebrow in my direction. Not a jealous eyebrow. Not an envious, love struck expression. It’s almost like he’s challenging me: C’mon, Sutton. I know you’re just doing this to make me jealous. You’re such a silly girl.
I turn stiffly back to Aidan and thrust my beer at him. “Can you hold this for a second? I need to adjust my top.”
“Sure,” Aidan says, and watches me as I reach up to my neck, untie the thin straps of the halter, and allow the fabric to pool ever so slightly so that just a bit more of my collarbone is exposed. “Can you get my hair?” I murmur to Aidan.
“Uh …” Aidan fumbles for a moment, then places both bottles awkwardly on an iron patio table. He steps forward and lifts my hair so that I can retie my top. His hands shake slightly. I hope I’m having the same effect on Thayer, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of looking over at him to check it out.
“Is that good?” Aidan asks.
“That’s perfect,” I purr, turning back to Aidan and running a finger through my loose curls. Aidan laughs. He grabs his beer and takes another sip. I take a sip of mine, too. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I turn and look at Thayer. He’s standing in the same spot with the soccer guys, but his gaze is still on me. When he sees me glancing his way, he raises a hand in a casual wave.
I whip my head back to Aidan. Thayer is going to have to work much, much harder than that.
“So,” I say to Aidan, sidling closer to him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing calf muscles?”
Aidan turns pink. “Oh, well, we run a lot in practice, I guess.”
After Thayer’s magnetic confidence, Aidan’s nervousness feels like a letdown. I wonder what I ever saw in him. But I smile and purr, “Oh, I can tell.”
Encouraged by my response, Aidan launches into a lecture about the various weight exercises he does to enhance his calves. I sneak another glance at Thayer, and my heart picks up speed. He’s pushing through the crowd, heading right to me. Laurel has been left behind at the fence, and she looks bereft and slightly lost. I feel a slight regretful twinge—even though Laurel drives me crazy, she’s still my sister. But what I feel for Thayer is totally different than what I’ve felt for anyone else. All’s fair in love and war, right?
I step closer to Aidan, touching his forearm lightly. “Want to dance?”
He grins broadly. “Sure.” He takes my hand and leads me back into the house. He steps through the threshold toward the humid, crowded air of the kitchen, and I turn, offering one last look over my shoulder at Thayer. His mouth is set in a thin, tight line, and his forehead is creased in frustration.
That’s how I know my plan is working.
11
YOU CAN DANCE IF YOU WANT TO