Chapter Eight WILLOW

Of course, I don’t go to his practice. Why would I? I’m not about to become a total fangirl. I don’t even know this guy. Not really.

But after school, I do walk by the field to see what’s going on.

The first thing I notice is how many girls are already sitting in the stands, watching the football team play with stars in their eyes—I can practically see them from where I stand. Their phones sit idly beside them on the bench, unless they’re taking photos of the boys scrambling around like chickens on the field.

And the longer I watch everything unfold, the more I notice that the girls do that a lot—take photos of the boys playing. Or they take selfies together, making sure they get the team on the field behind them because I’m guessing it’s a flex, to hang out and watch them practice? It makes no sense.

I pause for a moment, focusing my attention on the boys out on the field. I have no idea what they’re doing, and I’ve never really cared before either. I don’t pay attention to sports. My father watches football sometimes—even more now because of Row being on the team—but I couldn’t tell you who his favorite team is. Does he watch college football or professional? I have no clue. It never really mattered before.

Rhett removes his helmet and I watch as he faces the stands, his head slowly moving like he’s scanning the crowd. A few girls wave at him and when he waves back, it hits me.

He probably invites every single girl he talks to to come watch him play. Talk about arrogant.

I push away from the fence and hurriedly walk away, heading back to my dorm suite, battling the disappointment swirling within me. For a second, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could be special, but I’m not.

Not to Silas. Not to Rhett.

Not to anyone.

***

The next day in Honors English, I try my best to keep to myself, but I can feel his presence the moment he enters the room. The air shifts, filling with an electric warmth that seems to radiate toward me. The temptation to turn around and see if he’s there is strong, but I resist the urge.

Barely.

Remaining still, I focus on the blank page of my notebook, startling when I feel a gentle tug on the end of my ponytail.

I whip around, ready to say something, when I spot the forlorn expression on Rhett’s face. The words die on my tongue. He looks downright … sad.

“You didn’t come to practice,” he accuses, sliding into the desk directly behind mine.

Oh, come on. He had an entire fan club out there supporting him.

I part my lips, unsure how I might explain myself, but he keeps talking.

“I looked for you and everything, but you weren’t there.”

The retort escapes without hesitation, as if I have no control over it. “I’m surprised you noticed, considering there were so many girls in the stands.”

The smile that spreads across his face is blinding. Oh, he’s so pleased with himself. “You were there.”

I lift my chin, hating that I just ratted myself out. “I walked by the football field after school.”

“Uh huh.” He doesn’t believe me, and I suppose I can’t blame him.

“You didn’t need me there—you had enough support.” I turn back around to face forward, wishing the bell would ring.

Silas and Alana enter the classroom, Alana’s gaze meeting mine before she rises up on tiptoe and kisses Silas on the cheek.

“No public displays of affection in class, Miss Fitzpatrick,” Mrs. Patel chastises.

I send a quick smile to the English teacher before I duck my head, pleased that they got in trouble.

“I still missed you,” Rhett says from behind me.

Turning my head to the side, I murmur, “I’m not so sure about that.”

“It’s true. I really wanted you to watch me play.”

“It sounds boring.”

He scoffs, leaning forward. Close enough that I can stare into his eyes and see that they’re shot through with little strips of green. “You wouldn’t be bored watching me.”

I go still, momentarily mesmerized by the look on his face. The words he just said. Having his entire focus on me is the slightest bit disconcerting.

“Big ego much?” I blink at him.

He settles back in his chair, smirking. “Just stating facts.”

“It must be nice living such a delusional life. Believing you’re just that amazing.” The sarcasm is thick, but he barely acknowledges it.

“I’m not delusional, Will. I just know what I’m capable of.”

“And what exactly are you capable of?” I arch a brow, something I’ve practiced in my mirror for years before I somewhat perfected it.

“Impressing you.”

The bell finally rings and I face the front of the room once more, clutching my hands together, those two words running through my mind on repeat.

Impressing you.

He’s full of it. He has to be. I cling to what Iris said about him yesterday. He’s a giant flirt. He’s obviously arrogant and thinks he can do no wrong. And that anyone will do what he says. All he has to do is ask.

A streak of pride runs through me. I didn’t do what he asked, and I can’t help but be proud of myself. I bet girls fall at his feet every time he flashes that magnetic smile in their direction, but not me.

Not that I’m special or above everyone else, I just … I don’t have time to deal with someone like Rhett Bennett. I don’t like arrogant boys, which is kind of funny because they run rampant all over this campus.

Maybe that’s why I was drawn to Silas. He’s quiet and kind and never boastful—at least to me. I don’t remember a single moment where he bragged or showed off in front of me. Not like Rhett.

That’s all he does. That’s all he’s ever done since the moment I met him.

I feel something jostle one of my chair legs and I glance down to find Rhett’s legs stretched out, his loafered feet on either side of the chair. I’m half tempted to kick him out of the way, but I refuse to acknowledge him, even violently.

“The first book we’re going to read this semester is The Great Gatsby,” Mrs. Patel announces, holding up a copy of the book.

Oh good. I’ve never read that one.

Rhett groans behind me, the sound closer than I expected. “Snooze fest.”

“There’s a stack of books on a table in the back of the classroom,” Mrs. Patel explains. “I’ll release you by rows to go pick up your copies.”

I wait with nervous anticipation to go grab my book, offering Alana a smile when she walks past me to return to her desk, but she looks away, her lips curled in the faintest sneer.

Okay then.

“Damn,” Rhett mutters.

I frown at him and he shrugs. “She snubbed you.”

“She definitely did,” I agree.

Our row is finally released to go grab our books and I slowly rise from my desk, shocked to find Silas at my side. Since he sits in the same row, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at all, but I figured he’d avoid me like Alana just did.

Rhett seems to be waiting for me, his gaze roving over Silas, his lip curling with disgust.

“You have a good first day of school yesterday?” Silas asks me as we sail right past Rhett, heading for the table of books.

I nod, telling myself this means absolutely nothing. Silas is just being his usual, kind self. “It felt weird, being back.”

“I bet. We’re all glad you’re here, though.” Silas’s smile grows and he reaches out to grab a copy of the book from the table, handing it to me.

“Thank you.” I clutch the book to my chest, wanting to say more. But my gaze shifts to where Alana sits to find she’s already watching us.

And she doesn’t look pleased.

“You don’t want that copy.”

I turn to find Rhett standing in front of me, thrusting a less battered copy of the book toward me. “This one doesn’t have a ripped cover.”

“Oh.” I glance down at the book I’m holding to see that the cover is barely hanging on. “Thank you.”

Rhett takes the book Silas gave me and tosses it on the table, placing the newer copy in my hands. “You’re welcome.”

The two boys glare at each other while I stand in the middle and I study Silas’s face.

Then Rhett’s.

It’s obvious they don’t like each other, but why?

“Silas! Come here,” Alana demands, breaking the tension.

He does as she bids, scurrying back to sit across from her, and she leans over the aisle, her lips moving rapidly. I wish I could hear what she was saying.

“Those two deserve each other,” Rhett says.

“You don’t like Alana?” I ask him.

He grabs his own copy of The Great Gatsby. “I don’t know her.”

“Then why would you say that?”

“I don’t like the way she treated you.” We start walking back to our seats, Rhett just behind me. “And he acts like he might like you a little too much for a guy who has a girlfriend.”

“We’re just friends—” I start, but Rhett speaks over me.

“Nah. I know when a guy is into a girl. He’s into you.” Rhett falls into his seat while I carefully sit down in my mine, tucking my skirt under my butt, my mind filled with nothing but riotous thoughts.

Silas shouldn’t like me. He’s got Alana. They have sex all the time—and that’s a direct quote from her. Why would he be interested in me? I, for one, haven’t had sex with anyone, so Alana has got me beat on experience. And supposedly they’re madly in love?

I am seriously so confused.

***

At lunch, it’s just me and Iris sitting at the table at first, and I’m trying to work up the courage to ask her the questions that have been lingering in my mind for hours since Rhett said what he said.

“Do you think Silas is happy with Alana?”

Iris grimaces. “I guess he is. According to her, they’re having sex nonstop, and what boy wouldn’t be happy with that?”

“Right.” That’s the same thought I had. “That makes sense.”

“Why are you asking anyway? Please don’t tell me you’ve still got a crush on him. I hate to be mean, but you’re wasting your time.”

I lean in close and explain everything that happened today, leaving out the part where Rhett said he wanted to impress me. I want to hold on to that moment privately for a little while longer.

“Maybe he’s talking to you to make Alana jealous,” Iris suggests when I finish speaking.

“I suppose so, though that doesn’t seem like something Silas would do.” I chew on my lower lip, wishing I could read minds. Wondering for about the hundredth time why Silas never made a move on me.

Wondering even more why he chose Alana.

“You don’t know him that well, Willow,” Iris points out. “Don’t forget you were gone all last year. I’m sure he’s changed.”

I hate believing that he’s changed that much, but I suppose she’s right. “Oh, I definitely won’t forget. You won’t let me.”

Iris leans her shoulder into mine. “And then there’s the fact that Rhett said what he said.”

“What do you mean?” I sit up straighter, my gaze going to where he’s sitting outside in the quad. I can see him perfectly through the window, and he’s laughing at something one of the boys is saying to him, his attention going to the window. It’s like our gazes meet even through the tinted glass and he stares for a moment too long, the smile fading.

He can’t see me. There’s no way.

“I think he likes you, and I understand why. He doesn’t know you at all.”

“What are you implying? He’ll get to know me and not be interested anymore?” Is that what happens with boys? Are they drawn to me because of my family name and then once they realize what I’m about, they lose interest?

My heart pangs. The realization is … painful.

“No, of course not! I was referring to you being … new meat, for lack of a better term,” Iris explains.

I wrinkle my nose. “Gross. And I’m not new meat.”

“You are to him,” she points out. “And I’m guessing he finds you entertaining.”

“Entertaining? You make me sound like a show he enjoys watching.” And I don’t think anyone has ever described me as entertaining before. Not my parents. Not my friends or my family or teachers.

“A pretty girl Rhett hasn’t seen around campus is definitely entertaining to him.” Iris laughs when I send her a withering look. “It’s okay though. He’s harmless.”

“You warned me yesterday that he’s a player,” I point out.

“Right, but Rhett is like a … harmless player. He’s a fun guy. Not a serious bone in his body. Life is fun and games for him and he’s just here to enjoy it,” Iris says.

“Yeah, I could kind of tell.” My gaze lingers on Rhett. He’s not staring through the window any longer and I forget all about my lunch. I watch him, curiosity running through my blood, making me wish I could talk to him more, which I can.

Next period.