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 reassure 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 ass. I’d hate to have that sexist 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 embarrassed 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 passing 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 cocky 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 space 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, spacing 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 passed a junior on the inside. Winding my way through the slowing masses, I joined the leaders, checking for Mike in the crowd. Chris, Ben and two other guys made up the rest of the group.

  Mike’s friends held the inside lane and the other guys spread out for the last lap, fighting for the front. I tried to cross on the inside, but Mike stepped into the field making sure I had to pull back. That move would have disqualified him if it were a track meet, but I had a feeling all was fair in this last quarter mile.

  A small tug snagged my tank top. At my right shoulder, Luke scowled at the back of Mike’s head. Luke raised his finger to his lips and motioned me behind him. I’m not sure why I let him pass me, but I fell in behind him and opened my gait to match his longer one.

  As soon as our feet sounded on the pavement in unison, he kicked up the speed and shouted as he blew toward them.

  “On your left!”

  The guys didn’t stop to think. They broke rank and let Luke through with me on his heels. The moment we’d cleared, I stepped to the outside and tightening my stride, pulling my shoulders back and crossing the line at the same moment, tied for first place with Luke Parker.

  Coach blew the whistle as we crossed the line, ending the race.

  Luke turned his head just enough to catch my eye.

  “Ease up?”

  I nodded, trying to catch my breath after the sprint to the end. I was going to need every bit of stamina I had left. The laps may be done, but the parking spot was still anyone’s to snag.

  Taking the short curve of the track, I glanced back. Behind us, Mike looked pissed, but he still ran with Chris and one other guy. He must have been hoping if he outlasted me, Coach would let him stay.

  I let Luke pull away and waited for the others to pass. My breath caught in my throat when I took an elbow to the shoulder as the trio went by. I waited for Chris to say something, but his attention was locked on Luke’s back.

  From the rear, I watched the guys jockey for the lead. Poor dears didn’t know the joke was on them. If there was one thing I knew, it was how to win a race. Now that we’d passed the final mile marker, it was all about Last Man Standing. With my shorter stride, speed may not be my friend, but time certainly was.

  The sun skittered toward the tree tops as one-by-one almost all the guys gave up. The most relief I ever felt—ever—was when Chris stepped off the track after finishing his five miles. Knowing I wouldn’t have to beat him took all the pressure off. I rolled my shoulders, lowered my arms and shook my hands loose again as I watched the two guys half a lap ahead of me.

  Luke’s gait still looked fairly comfortable, but he kept twisting his head as if to force a crick loose. Beside him Mike leaned forward, his stride shortening. He was going to drop. I hoped the ground hurt when it rushed up to meet his thick skull.

  He slowed. Slowed. Slowed. Slowed—and turned and rushed to the outside of the track.

  By the time I passed him, he’d lost not only his dinner, but most likely lunch and breakfast too.

  Ahead of me, Luke lessened his pace, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Hey,” he said, as I caught up with him. “You know, I have a truck.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  He checked his watch, pressing the split button as we crossed the mile line and I knew I was in for a long night.

  “I could even, say… fit two girls in it each morning.”

  “Luke Parker,” I raised my voice as we passed the guys cheering him on from the sidelines. “Are you trying to bribe me into stopping?”

  Luke glanced toward the crowd, judging if they’d heard my words but not breaking stride.

  Chris scowled as we went by. Rachel’s advice echoed in my head about his “need to have his ego stroked” and “lack of acceptance of second best.” I had a gut-sick feeling that even though he dropped way before I did, it was going to come back to haunt me.

  “Not a bribe,” Luke huffed. “Think of it this way, you get a ride, your friend gets a ride, and I get to not be so sore I can’t move during tryouts tomorrow.”

  “We’re just over six miles. I’m guessing this isn’t such a tough run for you.”

  “Nope. This is a cake walk.” His lips curled up on the right side. “But I’m thinking that you could keep this going until the sun went down and everyone went home.”

  “Well, I’m hoping Coach sticks around. I wouldn’t want him to have to take my word for it that I kicked your butt.”

  Luke’s laugh went right through my skin, tickling underneath it in a weird, uncomfortable way.

  “You know what, Amy? You take the spot. I need these legs tomorrow to show your buddy what second place looks like. It’s his butt I’d rather see flat in the grass anyway.”

  With that, Luke dropped behind me, slowing to a walk, his arms braced backward on his hips as he caught his breath. In the distance, the whistle sounded again and Coach shouted at the guys to circle up. More than half the team remained.

  In the growing dusk, I prayed for two things as I braced myself against the chain link fence and stretched. One, that the extra run yesterday on top of the race today wouldn’t leave me too tight to get out of bed in the morning. And two, that Coach wouldn’t draw more attention to me and tick any of the guys off further.

  I did my best to concentrate on my invisibility gene. Hopefully, now wasn’t the time it would go latent.

  “You made a good showing today, men. The bottom ten, see Stafford in the morning. He may want to keep you around for JV.” He snapped his binder shut and tucked it under his arm. “That is all.”

  Everyone made it to their feet and lumbered up the hill toward the school. I tried not to groan as I headed toward the field to lug in my binders and the table.

  “Cafry! Johnson!” Coach shouted at two legacy freshman as he passed me. “Bring in Whalen’s stuff and put the table in the locker room.”

  I sincerely thanked him. My legs sincerely thanked him.

  Coach Sarche stopped and faced me. “I meant what I said, Whalen. Whatever reason you have for being here can’t be a good one. But you’re part of my team. If you hadn’t been before, you certainly earned your spot tonight.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” I knew he wanted me back on the cross-country team—that competing on a team was the only thing he understood—but he’d never been a teenage girl stuck outside a snooty running clique.

  With a gruff nod, he climbed the hill to the back door.

  I waited at the stats’ locker for the freshman to tote the stuff in so I could stash it. Pulling my backpack out, I heard a heavy tread fall silent behind me.

  “Hey.”

  “Seriously?” I asked without turning around.

  “Seriously what?”

  When I glanced up, Luke stood behind me, confusion etching his brow just below the brown flop of hair that swept toward his eyes.

  “Seriously, you start every conversation with ‘hey.’ Don’t you have another segue into small talk?”

  Luke brought out that smirk—the one that was beginning to rub me the wrong way. “Why mess with something that works?”

  Cafry sprinted in and skidded to a halt beside my locker. Glancing from Luke to me, he held the binders out. His cheeks heated and his gaze skittered away toward my feet.

  “Thanks,” I said, pulling the binders from his grasp and hoping both guys would just go away.

  “That was great. Tonight. You winning and all.” Freshman Cafry paused and looked up at Luke before finishing his sentence in an absurdly hushed tone, “Amy.”

  I froze, caught off guard by my own new notoriety. I wasn’t overly tall, but this kid barely squeaked past me. His skinny frame made him look very breakable standing next to Luke. I was suddenly happy we had a JV team and a Red Squad for freshman who didn’t make either.

  “Thanks,” I said again to fill the silence. “I’m glad it’s over.”

  Cafry grinned and Luke jerked his head toward the locker room sending the boy on his way.

  “So, you ready to go?” Luke asked.

  “Go where?”

  “Home. I figure there’s no way you’re running after that.” Luke bent to grab my pack. “Plus, the race went longer than normal and it’s way too dark out at this point.”

  “That’s alright, Parker.” Chris appeared on my other side, sandwiching me between them. “I’ve got this one.”

  Luke stilled, his grin slipping. “It isn’t a problem. I’m heading that way.”

  For a moment I thought Chris would let Luke take me home. But he reached past me for my bag, giving it a tug and loosened it from Luke’s grip.

  “It wasn’t really a suggestion.” Chris slung the bag over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around me, turning me away from Luke and the lockers. Letting his hand rest on my lower back, he asked, “Ready, babe?”

  I fought hard to keep the smile off my face, or at least to make it less like something Rachel’s little sister would do if a Jonas Brother walked into her kitchen.

  “Sure.” I glanced over my shoulder at Luke. “Thanks anyway, Luke. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chris gave me a little push through the door he held open.

  “Nice run,” I shouted before it fell shut, leaving Chris and me alone for the first time in two weeks.

  Chapter 9

  The run had gone longer than I thought. The streetlights lit the parking lot in a dim, polka dot fashion. I paused at the passenger’s door, but Chris had already rounded the back, unlocking the driver’s side.

  A shiver ricocheted over my skin as the cool evening air seeped through my sweat-drenched clothes. I wished I’d known I’d be racing. A clean, dry shirt would have been better than a foot rub. Chris started the car then threw the lock switch on his side to let me in.

  Slipping the seat belt home, I glanced to where Luke passed in front of the car, his tall frame casting a streetlight shadow over the dash. He stopped and watched Chris maneuver from the spot and then, with a shake of his head, made his way to his truck.

  “So, babe. What was with that run tonight?” Chris pulled out of the lot, glancing my way as he sped down the first hill.

  I tucked the seat belt under my arm so I could twist to face him. The dashboard lit his face in an uneven pattern, the steering wheel blocking the glow from his eyes so I couldn’t read his thoughts.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, trying not to sound pushy, ignoring the inner-neediness that crept up on me every time he was near.

  “I knew you ran and all. I mean, it isn’t your fault Coach put you on the spot like that, but you didn’t have to win. Ya know?”

  The August heat had nothing on the warmth radiating off my skin at his words.

  “Actually, Mike Gerrard put me on the spot. And yes, I did have to win. Especially when it came down to just me and Luke. There was no way I was letting him beat me.”

  Chris’s brows lowered, shading his eye-soul-windows even more.

  “Parker’s a pain in the ass, but I mean, still.”

  He wanted me to throw the race? Even to Luke?

  “None of the other girls would have done that.” He downshifted at the bottom of the hill. “Cheryl and Mandy wouldn’t have drawn it out like that.”

  I snorted. I considered snorting twice, actually. “Cheryl and Mandy can’t run a sub-eighteen 5k.”

  “Whatever.” Chris slowed the car as we bumped over the wooden bridge. “What did Parker and you talk about during those last laps? Is he still curious about the team?”

  I thought over the last few days and realized Luke had never asked me about the team. Not once. Not about the binders or Coach or tryouts or the team or anything. Never did he do anything that may have been James Bond Interrogation-Worthy. The only thing he’d been curious about was if I was living in some fantasy world where Chris was a modern day knight in a shining Acura.

  Luke would never get that there was more to this than my overactive imagination. I mean, he thought he was so smart and so Mr. Know-it-all, but he just—

  He just needed to get out of my head is what he needed to do.

  Shaking off the annoyed feeling I was beginning to associate with Luke, I answered Chris’s question, trying to focus on how important these tryouts were to him.

  “No. He kind of shied away from talking about team stuff. He probably—Chris!” I watched Pebble Lane go by. “You passed my drive.”

  “What?” Chris looked over his shoulder. “I thought you lived in some house down here?”

  “I do. Back there.” I pointed behind us toward my little dirt road.

  “Crap. Is there a place to turn around up here?”