It’s too arrogant on my part to think he was looking for me.
After a few minutes of the homecoming court nonsense, he looked ready to bail. They dragged him back out when they talked about the game and only then did his lips curve when Coach Halsey patted his back and announced, “We’re going to kill them!”
The entire gym erupted in cheers and the band started to play, the sounds so loud, Livvy and I both put our hands over our ears, laughing. When my gaze returned to the center of the gym, I saw Ryan nudge Tuttle and point at Livvy and me. Tuttle’s gaze met mine and he smiled, ever so faintly. It’s almost a warrior’s smile, one I imagine some long-ago Viking offering up right before he charged into battle and slayed everyone.
I looked away, frustrated by my wandering yet vivid imagination.
After school let out, I rushed to Yo Town, skipping the homecoming parade, the game, all of it. Livvy promised me she’d let me know what the score was in live time, and she did. She sent me Snapchat updates and the occasional photo. Including a few from halftime, when the homecoming king and queen were announced.
The photo of Tuttle and Lauren standing together with their arms looped almost made me want to vomit.
Thankfully, business is brisk tonight at Yo Town. Time passes quickly, and after a while I can hardly think about what I’m missing. All I can focus on is the shop. Blake and I are running around like crazy, trading off working behind the register so one of us can keep the store clean and maintain the toppings bar.
At one point I’m so busy ringing up customer after customer that I don’t notice the big group that comes into the shop at first. It’s just been one continuous group after another, you know? No big deal.
Until the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my skin prickles with goose bumps. Someone is watching me. It’s like I can literally feel their eyes sweeping over my body. Slowly I glance up, look to my right and discover it’s…
Tuttle.
And he’s with a girl.
Not just any girl either.
He’s with Lauren Mancini.
My heart feels like it shrivels to half its size and all the air lodges in my chest. Our gazes meet and my breath catches. He’s devastatingly handsome wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black pants and a cheap-ass crown on his head.
The same cheap-ass crown he was wearing in that photo Livvy sent me. I’m half tempted to go rip it off his head, but I contain myself.
He tears his gaze away from mine when Lauren curls her arm through his, batting her eyelashes up at him as she tucks herself in close. As close as she can get without embarrassing herself and climbing him like a tree. I stare in shocked disbelief as she clings to him like they were made for each other.
And let’s be real, they sort of were. They’re a stunning couple, him so tall and dark and her so slight and fair and freaking beautiful. I hate her. She’s wearing a gorgeous black dress that makes her boobs look amazing and she has a sparkling tiara on her head.
Lauren is the perfect queen to Tuttle’s handsome king.
“Hey.” Someone taps on the scale in front of me and I startle, turning to find a guy waiting for me to weigh his frozen yogurt. It’s piled high in the cup and covered with every topping imaginable. So gross. “You giving it away for free tonight, or what?”
The guy starts laughing and so do his friends. I glare at him as I ring him up, trying my best not to pay attention to Tuttle.
But it’s so hard. I watch as he walks down the row of machines beside Lauren—at least she’s not hanging on him anymore—a patient look on his face as she whines about calories and how we don’t have her favorite flavor and what sort of toppings should she dump on her frozen yogurt because oh my God—and I quote—she loves them all.
He never says a word. Just nods in all the right places and occasionally looks my way. I occasionally look his way too, so our eyes meet far too much. And I sort of hate myself for it. I shouldn’t look at him. I should forget all about him and focus on my job. On my life.
He’s a distraction I don’t need.
“Aren’t you having any frozen yogurt, Jordan?” Lauren asks sweetly, her voice carrying through the shop despite the noise level. Her voice also makes me feel stabby.
Oh, and it’s like a knife to the heart, how casually she calls him Jordan. I swear I see irritation flash in his blue eyes, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he wants her to call him Jordan because she’s earned the right and I lost it. They’ve become close. Homecoming king and queen close—maybe even kissing close.
Maybe she’s the only one who gets to call him Jordan now.
The realization makes me sick to my stomach.