More than Friends - Monica Murphy (12 page)

These are the silly things that go through my head in Tuttle’s presence.

“Hey.” My eyes snap up to meet his and I realize he’s holding a fry in front of my face. “Eat this.” And then he feeds it to me. I open my mouth like a baby bird and he drops the fry inside, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. His eyes smolder and he goes still as I slowly chew the fry and swallow it.

The tension grows between us, until it feels like a living, breathing thing sitting in the car with us. All over a fry. All over his thumb barely grazing my lip. He’s staring at my mouth now as he sips from his drink, and of course my gaze goes to
his
lips wrapped around that straw.

All of a sudden I’m ravenous. I grab my burger and bite into it, not caring if I look like a slob or not. The burger tastes delicious and I take another bite, catching him watching me out of the corner of my eye.

“What?” I ask when he doesn’t look away.

“Why do we keep doing this?”

I take a sip of my drink. “Doing what?”

“Playing this game. Pretending we hate each other when we don’t.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I definitely don’t hate you either.”

“But I don’t want to be with you.”

He raises a brow. Remains quiet.

Ugh.

“I don’t,” I reiterate.

Somehow the brow rises higher. How does he do that? He said about a billion words with that one gesture.

“It won’t work.” I look away from him. It’ll be easier to say these things if I don’t have to see his gorgeous face. “You’re you and I’m me and we’re not a match. I’ll be insecure and you’ll get tired of my clingy ways and break up with me immediately. Then I’ll be devastated and pissed at myself because I knew it was a bad idea, being with you.”

“You’re not clingy.”

I whirl on him, irritated that he…actually complimented me. “How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“How?” I ask again. “You don’t know me. We’ve never really gone out. We go to a few of the same parties and always end up together, but we’re never really doing anything.”

“Oh, we’ve done a few things.” His suggestive tone makes my entire body go hot. With irritation.

With…hmmm…desire? Is that the right word?

I also want to hit him. Seriously. What is up with me lately with the violent tendencies?

“Nothing serious,” I mumble, keeping my head bent. I need to stick with the don’t-look-at-Tuttle plan. It’s easier to say things when I don’t have to see him. I should’ve never gotten into his car.

He exhales loudly and resumes eating. I can tell because every few seconds his hand rustles around in the bag, grabbing fries. Or he takes a sip of his drink. Eventually I start eating too, and we remain quiet. It’s not a comfortable silence, though. Not even close. It’s tension-filled and edgy and it makes me uneasy. I can feel the irritation and frustration radiating from his body, and I decide to talk about something safe.

“I heard you played a really great game Friday.”

Tuttle pauses mid-chew and then swallows before he answers. “I did all right. It was really the team. Ryan, he ran in three touchdown passes.”

“He’s a great player.”

“He is.”

“So are you.” I get a shrug as an answer. “I hate that I missed the game.”

“I know you love football.”

“Sucks that I have to work every Friday night.”

“You should tell them you’re busy.”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, that’ll go over real well with my new boss. ‘Sorry I can’t work Friday nights. I gotta watch the football game.’ She won’t go for that.”

He’s quiet. Contemplative. “What if I could give you a valid excuse?”

“An excuse for what?”

“To come to every football game.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Tuttle grins. Full on grins so broadly, I’m slightly taken aback. “Watch and see.”

“T
hey’re in a relationship. Like boyfriend and girlfriend already. He’s probably had sex with her.” Livvy shudders, her gaze locked on what’s unfolding on the other side of the quad during lunch. It’s the day after Tuttle took me to In-N-Out and now I’m back to eating lunch at school. The temporary heat wave has passed and it actually feels like fall today.

“So?” I sound bored because I
am
bored. She needs to stop focusing her energy on Dustin and Brianne Brown and instead pay attention to Ryan. He’s totally into her. Like, he acts the fool around her all the time and she thinks it’s adorable.

I find him annoying, but that’s me.

“He took her to the homecoming dance, they went out Saturday and Sunday. And they’ve spent every free moment at school together,” Liv continues.

“How do you know all of this? And I thought you were
over
Dustin.” We should stop talking about him. Ryan could appear at any moment.

She rolls her eyes. “I promise, I’m trying my hardest to get over him, but it’s—difficult. I still miss him. He was a daily part of my life for so long, and now he’s gone. Poof. Like our friendship never existed.” A pained expression crosses her face. “Gross, he just kissed her. I think I saw tongue.”

Dustin and Brianne Brown were bound to happen. The girl has been working him over since the school year started. Actually, she’d been after him for years, according to Liv. Dustin had just been so wrapped up in Livvy, hoping he had a chance with her. Until he blew it. And she blew it. Oh, and Em blew it too.

Literally.

Ha ha. Bad joke.

“They wouldn’t be doing the tongue tango on the quad,” I reassure Liv just as Ryan sits down next to her, plopping his tray full of food on the table. He’s laughing, his gaze meeting mine.

“Who’s doing the tongue tango?” he asks.

“Brianne Brown and Du—”

“Hey, baby.” Livvy cuts me off and flashes Ryan a seductive smile as she strokes a hand down his chest. Guess she doesn’t want to look like she’s spying on Dustin in front of Ryan. Smart move. “What did you get for lunch?”

He points it all out, offering her some, but she shakes her head and holds up the prepackaged salad she brought from home. I’m munching on carrot sticks again and guzzling water. Ryan is eating pizza and a hamburger and a salad, plus he has a brownie that he claims his mom made. Right before Livvy bursts into a giggle fit. I’m thinking it might be a pot brownie, but what do I know.

“Hey.” I glance up at the sound of the familiar voice, the sun so bright I can’t make out the face of who’s standing by our table, but I recognize his shape. It’s Tuttle. And he doesn’t wait for an invitation, he just sits down next to me, lifting his brows as he shows me the Subway bag he’s carrying. “Want to split a sandwich?”

Before I can ask him when he found the time to go to the Subway down the street, he’s unwrapping the sandwich and giving me half. “What’s on it?”

“Turkey with everything except tomatoes, pickles and peppers.”

“Onions?” I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want onion breath around him.

He nods. “Oh yeah.”

“I don’t know…” I start, but he silences me with a look.

“Eat it.”

I dutifully pick up the sandwich, take a bite and almost moan at how good it tastes. I didn’t realize how burnt out I am on baby carrots and ranch until this very moment. “Thank you,” I say once I swallow.

“I have good news,” he says casually, facing Ryan and Liv. Making me think the good news is for either Ryan or Liv.

“What is it?” Ryan asks.

Tuttle turns to look at me. “You’re our new team water girl.”

I’m packing up my carrots and ranch, and I pause, meeting Tuttle’s gaze. “Are you talking about me?”

He nods. Takes another bite of his sandwich. There’s a tiny gob of mustard stuck in the corner of his mouth and I’m tempted to wipe it off with my finger.

Or my tongue.

My cheeks go hot at the mere thought.

“But I can’t do it. I work on Friday nights.”

He licks the mustard from his mouth and I feel a little weak at the sight of his tongue. What’s up with all the tongues today? “Find someone to cover you.”

“I can’t do it this week.” No way. “Maybe I can work next week’s game.”

“But we need you this week. It’s an away game, and that’s when we need our water girls the most.”

The water girl title is so undignified. “What happened to your previous water girl?”

“Turns out she’s allergic to the grass on the field and can’t do it anymore. I told Coach about you and he knows how much you love the game and our team. He said he wanted no one else. Just you.” The smug look of satisfaction on Tuttle’s face was more than obvious.

And sort of annoying.

“You can’t just volunteer me up for a job when I’m not sure if I can do it,” I tell him.

“When do you next work?”

“This afternoon.”

Tuttle frowns. “A closing shift?”

I bite my lip and nod. Then I open up my sandwich and pick off all the onions, one by one. I am not risking onion breath while I’m around him.

“By yourself? Or with that drippy guy?”

I’m offended on Blake’s behalf. “Don’t call Blake drippy.” I put my sandwich back together and take a bite.

“He seems sorta drippy.”

“Aw, look, Ryan. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel,” Livvy teases as she nudges her boyfriend right before they both start cracking up.

I send them a withering stare before I resume my conversation with Tuttle. “Don’t be so mean. Just because he’s not some big, sexy jock like you.”

Oh, the look he sends me is priceless. “You think I’m a big, sexy jock?”

“You
know
you’re a big, sexy jock. Everyone thinks so.”

“I only care what you think,” he says as he leans in close, his voice low. Too low. Sexy low.

There he goes again, saying dangerous things. “You shouldn’t.”

“Too late.” He resumes eating like the conversation is over.

I push his shoulder out of irritation, and because I want to touch him. Shoving him when you’re me is pointless considering he’s a solid wall of muscle. “I can’t ask my boss for every Friday off. I just started there.”

“Just through the football season, Amanda.” Oh. He said my name. He doesn’t say it very often, but it sounds nice falling from his lips. His perfectly kissable lips. “Maybe until mid November, but that’s it. Then you can work every Friday night for the rest of your life if you want to.”

I’m tempted. I think he knows it too because I see the light catch in his eyes and the warm way he studies me is enough to make me want to squirm.

“Just ask,” he says, his voice soft. He sends a quick glance in Ryan and Livvy’s direction, but they’re too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to us. “The worst she can say is no.”

“I’ll ask,” I say, my voice as soft as his.

“Promise?”

I nod. “I’ll let you know what she says.”

We both eat for a while before he asks another question. “You’re really closing by yourself tonight?”

“Yeah. It’s my first time.” I swallow past the sudden nervousness that swamps me. “Blake said I could call him if I need help.”

“Please.” Tuttle scoffs. “Like that guy can help you.”

“I mean, with like the register or whatever. The money I have to put in the safe in the back before I leave. There’s this whole closing up procedure I have to follow and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Jordan studies me, the concern in his eyes obvious. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone there at night.”

“I’m a big girl.” I smile but it feels fake, so I let it fade. “I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh.” He reaches out and brushes the corner of my lips with his thumb. “Mustard,” he tells me.

Just before he sticks his thumb in his mouth and licks it off.