Luke's gaze didn't leave mine. It didn't slide toward the canvas trying to catch a peek of what I worked on. He just nodded once and stepped back.

My breath rushed out in a huff. "Thank you."

He nodded again, as if he got it.

"So, this is what you do? Where you go?"

"If you mean, do I come here to get my painting done, then the answer is yes."

"No. I meant, this is where you come to hide and work things out? Where even the few people you can't hide from leave you alone?"

I stilled to the point of fearing my heart had stopped.

"How dare you." I came around the canvas at him. "How dare you show up a few days ago and provoke and question me about my entire life. You don't know anything."

"So you aren't here avoiding all those people at the pool? Avoiding watching Kent ooze his way around that cheerleader?"

"Why would I care what a group of people I hardly know does?" I fisted my hands trying to make them stop shaking.

"You don't care that the guy who turns on the charm for you when he thinks no one is looking is doing the same thing for a bikini clad cheer-dealer as we speak? You don't care that every senior on the field today is there but you?"

"I wasn't invited, alright?" My answer echoed off the walls in the sudden silence. "I wasn't invited," I repeated more quietly.

Luke stepped toward me. "Amy..."

I raised my hand again-protecting myself this time, not my painting. "Don't."

"Amy, he isn't worth it. I don't know what's going on, but it obviously isn't good for you." Luke came toward me and didn't stop this time when I waved my hand in front of me. "He isn't one of the good guys, and you deserve the best. Even I can see that already."

I had no idea I was crying until his hand came up and brushed a tear away.

"Don't do that," he said. "Not for him."

He looked like he wanted to do more, to say more, but that word-searching look crossed his face again and he just stood there, looking down at me, invading my sanctuary.

The too-much feeling washed over me again, pushing everything I tried to ignore through my mind.

"I'd really like you to go now."

After a moment, he nodded and left. The door fell shut. The room fell silent. And my heart fell back out of my throat.

"You've reached the middle of nowhere. Leave a message after the beep."

BEEP.

"Rachel, it's me. Seriously, call. Life is insane and things with Chris are even weirder and this guy Luke is going to crush him and he's arguing with me and wants Chris's spot on the team and..." I lowered my voice feeling really stupid. "Rachel, he can see me."

I waited, wondering how soon she'd get this message. When she'd be able to call me back. A girl needs her best friend in times of absolute emotional chaos. Hopefully, that call would come soon... like, nowish would work.

"Okay then. Call me. K?"

The phone dinged three times in a row. My heart stutter-stepped as I reached for it even though I knew it was probably Rachel this time.

Party was lame Wish we could have hung instead The brownies made me think of you I grinned at the screen, knowing exactly what he meant. Each evening, as the kids headed out, Chris would bring over a loot of caf brownies while we waited for the "I'm-so-sorry-I-hit-traffic" everyday parents to show up.

I hated missing the party, but part of me loved the idea that he was thinking of me while he was there. While he was with her.

Another ding.

Stay away from Parker, Okay?

And a little jealousy never killed anyone... of course, the fight for the spot on the team might.

Chapter 8.

To say I wasn't looking forward to evening tryouts was an understatement. Between having to watch Chris mastermind this year's power couple and facing Luke after humiliating myself in the art room, I was pretty much done. I contemplated lacing my Nikes and running until exhaustion downed me. I thought I could make it through at least two towns, maybe hit the third before my legs gave out.

My short-term plan would be to then lie in the road until someone ran me over.

Instead, I stacked the binders on the table and waited for the team. Tonight Coach might start giving me notes. I hoped he didn't tell me who he was naming tryout captains so I didn't have to lie to Chris and claim uninformedness.

I'm not sure I had that in me anyway.

"Hey."

The little hairs under my ponytail leapt like springtime crickets. Only one guy started every conversation like that. As if I had tons of guys seeing me, let alone chatting me up.

Without turning around, I said, "I don't want to talk about it."

The breeze ruffled stats pages as I flipped through the binder looking for the session 5-Evening roll call. Already guys had begun dropping out.

"Okay."

Wow.

Mr. Pushy was backing off? I glanced at him over my shoulder and he gave a small shrug. "I know when something's none of my business. I'll stop. I've said everything I had to already. So..."

So, what?

"Thanks," I said, when he didn't finish his thought.

"Parker!" Coach's voice cut across the field to where we stood, argument diverted. "Are you going to join us or sit on the bench and chatter like an old woman with the stats girl?"

"See ya." Luke sprinted toward midfield, pulling his socks over his shin guards as he went.

My gut felt wrong for a moment. Like I'd made one of those big mistakes you didn't know how to fix, only I didn't know what the mistake was. Luke was on the field with the guys. Chris was looking at me with some type of new, deeper interest. I was where every girl in school wished she could be... if not hanging with the Rah-Rahs, that is.

"Welcome to your last free ride, boys." Coach slapped his clipboard against his leg as he circled the group stretching on the ground. "Tonight, we're gonna run till we're done. The bottom ten can sleep-in tomorrow while the rest of us continue with tryouts."

Heads whipped up, finally giving him their full attention. One of the juniors shot glances at the rest of the uppercla.s.smen and then dared to speak.

"Coach, it's second session and we all just ate."

Wow. Again. Apparently this was going to be Wow Wednesday.

"Gerrard, do you want to not run?"

Everyone but Mike Gerrard could see that was a trick question.

"Does anyone ever want to run, Coach?"

Coach threw his clipboard at the ground with a vengeance. I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, afraid he'd snap it like a baby twig as he strode back and forth in front of the team.

"Gerrard, should I count you as one of the bottom ten and give everyone a little leeway? It sounds to me like you don't want to play on my team."

Eyes rounded as everyone glanced from Mike to Coach waiting to see how Mike would get himself out of the ugly corner he'd super glued himself into.

"Alright, Gerrard. I'll give you an extra push. Is there anyone on this team you're sure you can beat? As long as you beat that person, you stick around for me to torture one more day. And they go. They beat you-they have a spot and you can hold "Go Ravens" signs in the bleachers all season."

"Anyone on the team?" Mike studied the circle until his gaze landed on me.

Coach checked his watch and glanced at the sun, obviously annoyed by the hold up. "You can even pick one of the freshmen if you think that will keep you here."

Mike's smirk rivaled Cruella De Vil when he spotted me. "I pick the stats girl."

Chris and his friends laughed. Yeah, not the kind of laugh that showed they knew who the joke was really on. Coach glared at them before stalking toward me. The guys must have thought it was to rea.s.sure me, but when I met Coach's gaze, I knew he was biting back a smirk of his own.

"You don't have to do this, Whalen," Coach offered in a low tone just for me. "But I'll admit there's nothing I'd like more than to see you kick his a.s.s. I'd hate to have that s.e.xist little snot on my team. Not to mention find myself a new stats girl."

I glanced past him, trying to guess what he really wanted me to do. Everyone was looking at me, the weight of their stares heavy and uncomfortable. But, invisible as always, the guys' gazes slid away as if I wasn't the pinnacle of the situation. My fifteen minutes of fame only lasted three seconds.

"Of course, if you don't beat him," Coach continued, "I can quit asking myself why the best stats girl I've had in four years is wasting her time counting how many times my guys kick a ball in a net instead of being on the cross-country team where she belongs."

"Come on, Coach," Mike whined. "If she's not going to run, I might as well go home and get some sleep tonight. I don't want her to get her panties in a bunch playing with the boys and all. She might break a nail or stub a toe."

Coach's smirk got wider, and maybe a tad bit meaner, as I handed him my binder.

Tightening my ponytail, I looked the group over wondering if I really wanted to put in an effort. Chris was shaking his head as if embarra.s.sed for me. All the guys but Luke avoided my gaze-or maybe they still hadn't noticed me standing there.

But Luke, Luke studied me like I was a game he could beat. Measuring me. Making more judgments and storing them away.

"Circle up, men. And Whalen." Coach closed ranks and tapped a beat with the clipboard he'd collected. "Tonight's run is an easy five miles. I was not teasing you little boys about the last ten in. We're going to make this even more interesting. Anyone pa.s.sing the five-mile mark can play last man standing. Whoever makes it the farthest beyond the five miles gets my parking spot for the first week of school."

I thought about Rachel and how she picked me up every morning for the last year no matter what. And then I thought about how she would love to not have to deal with her creepy ex-boyfriend in the senior lot when she got back for school.

Plus, Rachel had a problem with gifts that cost money. This was the perfect chance to get her something that cost me only sweat.

I bent to stretch and tighten my laces as Coach explained to the new kids how it worked. Laps on the track. Four laps is a mile. Twenty laps and you're done.

I'd rather run in the woods, but I can eat up the pavement with the best of them. I flashed a glance at the guys, scoping out the ones who looked confident without the telltale c.o.c.ky swagger. When Coach finished, we ambled down to the track and lined up, the seniors and juniors working their way to the front.

"Stats girl," Mike shouted. "The least I can do is let you join us at the front. Make s.p.a.ce on the line guys."

You know, before today I thought I liked that guy. I mean, not like-him like-him, but not dislike him. At the moment, he was truly getting on nerves I hadn't even known existed. The ones just past my last nerve and to the right. For a five mile race, I didn't need a spot on the line, but it was easier to take it than to explain that to him.

My shoulders tensed as I toed at the white paint on the tarmac. I missed the start listening for the gun that would have marked the beginning of a cross-country race. The guys around me surged forward before I caught my step and moved with them. My inner athlete snickered at the ones who took off, s.p.a.cing themselves into the lead. I let some of the pushier guys make their way around me. All I cared about was getting a little stride room and landing on the inside lane.

The first four laps were incidental. By mile two, groups started to form. Two guys stepped out as mile three slipped into mile four. By that time, the front tenth was lapping the guys in the back half.

"Hey."

I had no intention of wasting time, energy, or focus on Luke Parker right then.

"How ya doing?" He seemed at ease with his pace.

I'd been watching him. He didn't push for the front. He kept his times even and looked comfortable despite the sweat soaking his T-shirt. Basically, the male version of me. How depressing.

"Good." I slid a glance at him again. "You?"

"Oh, I'm doing just fine." Luke scanned the group in front of us. "I was wondering which guys you planned on letting beat you."

I couldn't help the laugh that caught my breath. "Well, I know you aren't on that list."

"You didn't make mine either." He jerked his head toward the leaders. "Did they?"

I knew what he was asking, but it was still none of his business. Even while I thought that, I heard myself answer.

"That parking spot is mine."

It was his turn to laugh as we crossed the four and a half mile mark. I hoped it knocked the wind out of him. Or at least cramped him up a little.

"You don't even have a car."

"I have a best friend with a car."

"Alright."

I waited for him to lengthen his stride and pull ahead. I could only hope my goading had gotten to him and he'd wear himself out. Instead, he stayed at my side. He even fell behind as we pa.s.sed a junior on the inside. Winding my way through the slowing ma.s.ses, I joined the leaders, checking for Mike in the crowd. Chris, Ben and two other guys made up the rest of the group.