I blinked. He’d lost me at “absolutely.” His face hadn’t changed from the open, earnest expression, and he didn’t shift his eyes, but I knew he was lying. I felt it instantly like someone had dumped a cooler of melted ice over my head. I shot up from the bench. Guess there was no symbolism to us being placed on the same team today. We would always be playing for different teams as long as he was associated with his academy.
Pete stood up, too, warming my shoulder with his hand. “I’m sorry, Kate. I wish I could tell you more about whether Andrew will be accepted or not, but it’s honestly not up to me.” The only sincere words on the topic.
I folded my arms across my chest, deep breathing in the intoxicating scent of his shirt. I knew I should take it off and give it back to him, but all I really wanted to do was take it home and use it as a pillowcase. I moved a couple of steps away from him.
He gave a throaty chuckle. “You may want to tuck that shirt in . . . it looks like you’re standing around in nothing but a very short dress.” He was trying to smooth things over with his signature blend of humor and flirtation. This only reminded me of that night when the same thing happened with his jacket, and Ranger said I looked like a flasher. Shortly after, I’d overheard their little convo about his mission here being as easy as taking candy from a baby.
I started to simmer.
The shrill of the whistle signaled the end of P.E. and our useless conversation. Wordlessly, I watched all the players come rolling in from the field.
“You never got around to telling me what number,” he said, closing the distance to murmur along my exposed neckline. “Come on . . . a deal’s a deal.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t take anymore contrived flirting, wanting him to finally get real with me. Wrenching off his shirt, I threw it at him. “Number twenty-three,” I said, picking a random number I’d just noticed wasn’t out there.
I watched his eyes widen and his hands close around the shirt as it bounced off his chest, then I jogged off to help gather balls and neon orange cones for Coach Sams. I left him standing there to figure out that I’d just lied, too. Didn’t have to wait long, because he accosted me as soon as I pushed through the gym doors.
“What was that about? And why did you lie to me? There is no number twenty-three.” Pete stepped into pace with me as I bustled to the comfort of my little hatchback warming in the sun. “Kate?”
Picking up the pace, I tried turning myself into a blur.
He swore. “Great. So now we’re not talking again. This must be some kind of record for you finding reasons to get mad at me.”
“I never have to look far.”
“What the hell did I do? I have no idea.”
I wound myself around parked cars at breakneck speed, with him easily keeping up. “If you really don’t know, then you have sorely misjudged my BS detector.”
Ashley-Leigh stopped tapping up-to-the-minute fake updates about her and Pete to motion to him that she was waiting by his Hummer. Like he couldn’t see her standing right there. She still acted as if she had a snowball’s chance in hell with him. On some level, I had to admire her tenacity.
“Looks like your homecomin’ date’s waitin’ on you.” I couldn’t resist a jab.
He snorted. “I don’t have enough fingers to count the ways that’s wrong.”
“Well accordin’ to her, you were gonna reveal some big, mysterious plans this afternoon.” I nodded over at her, and she waved cheerily like we weren’t in the middle of a battle. Which I guess we weren’t, because I’d completely stepped out of the war. “So . . . you’d better get after it.” I stepped into my car and closed the door in his face, then immediately reached over the backseat for one of Andrew’s hoodies and slipped it on even though it was too short and too tight. That reminded me—I was going shopping.
The loud creak of the door being wrenched open preceded Pete plunking himself down in the passenger seat. He slammed the door behind him with a little too much force. My car’s windows rattled.
“You break it, you bought it,” I quipped.
He snorted then threw his head back and laughed, but it sounded all off—more like he’d finally had it with me than he actually found me funny. I huffed out a long sigh and turned to face him, worrying about that very thing. I’d lost my temper . . . again. It’s like I had emotional Tourette’s or something.
Pete also sighed heavily, his head lolling back on the headrest. He closed his eyes, raked his hands through his hair, made an aggravated throat noise. Then was quiet except for some weird chuckles that escaped at odd intervals. I watched him struggle, thinking it always looked like he was a couple of weeks shy of a haircut for a military cadet. My fingers longed to reach out and smooth back his hair. I hated being mad at him. I hated him being mad at me. I hated being on opposite teams. The whole dang thing was frustrating as all get out.
After a much-needed moment, he found my eyes. “So . . . here we are again.” Humor clung to his defeated tone.
“Here we are again,” I confirmed sadly.
He shook his head. “What am I gonna do with you, Connelly?”
“Dip me in tar, roll me in feathers, and string me up by my toes?”
A flash of something—that sent a chill through me—darted in and out of his eyes before it could crystallize. He laughed harshly. “That’s one I’ve never heard before. I’m going to miss those kinds of colloquialisms.”
I laughed too, a little nervously. Did I imagine that?
“Yeah, I guess you don’t hear that every day round your neck of the woods,” I said, pulling the conversation back to the problem at hand.
Pete drew in some air and released it, momentarily fogging the window. “You’re one tough nut to crack, Katherine Connelly,” he stated flatly; it didn’t sound like a compliment. “But I gotta say,” his eyes returned to mine, “I’m going to miss you when I’m gone.”
A shadow crossed over my heart. That was twice now he alluded to leaving. It felt like the airbag just burst from the steering wheel, caving my chest in. My shoulders actually hunched forward. There was no way to keep the despair out of my voice, so I didn’t even try.
“So . . . you’re leavin’?”
He sighed, fiddled with the air vent. “Tomorrow.”
I swallowed the lump that jumped to my throat. “Your big, mysterious plans.” It somehow irked me even more that Ashley-Leigh knew before me.
“My big, mysterious plans,” he confirmed. His eyes seemed as sad as mine, somehow wet-looking though he wasn’t crying.
“Does Andrew know?”
“I’m going to tell him today after tutoring. I won’t be here tomorrow afternoon, so plan on picking him up from school.”
I did the nod thing, unable to formulate my next question. Maybe not wanting to know the answer. I stared out the windshield at things I couldn’t see. “Are you comin’ back?”
“I think so but I’m not really sure. They may have enough information to make a decision. I’m uh . . . being summoned back for another meeting.”
I wasn’t aware there had been a first meeting. “Why?”
A humorless huff. “I’m not doing a very good job,” he confessed.