My pulse notices the sudden decrease of distance between our bodies. And the proximity of Chad’s lips to my ear. “Message …?”
“Yeah, you know. Through a certain dressing-room curtain.”
I roll my eyes. I kinda figured he knew I was hiding from him. “So you want to talk about something? Don’t you realize there are at least a hundred others in our graduating class you could be harassing instead of me?”
“You think I’m harassing you?”
I cross my arms. “Not yet.”
Chad’s words carry a bite. “Listen, I ain’t interested in those hundred others in our class. I can see most of them any day of the week, you pick it. I don’t get that chance with you. You are the one I want to talk to right now, Lance. Got it? Just you. None of these other bozos. I see enough of them.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, uncertain.
I’m not sure how much longer I can maintain this wall of ice between us before curiosity gets the better of me.
What exactly does he want to talk about, anyway?
Should I bite?
“I only got you now,” he says. “I only got you tonight.”
I barely turn my head, but not enough to look him in the eyes. “Okay. You have my attention.”
“Good. Can we … go off somewhere more private, maybe?”
Just then, the music turns all the way down, and DJ Lyle “The Boot Scooter” makes an announcement, thanking everyone for being here for the reunion, recognizing Nadine’s restaurant for the catering and entertainment, and asking us to take our seats, as dinner will be served shortly.
Well, that’s a convenient way out if I ever saw one. “Looks like bad timing,” I tell Chad with mock pity. “I wouldn’t want to miss a delicious free meal from Nadine’s. As it turns out, I never went to the place, since I’m deathly allergic to Fairview, and I’m starving.”
Chad huffs in frustration, then leans in (even closer) to my ear and whispers, “Can we talk after, then?”
Mmm. The feeling of him whispering into my ear so closely. The way his breath tickles me. The tiny goosebumps that pop up down my neck and arm in response.
I fight off a shiver of delight, maintaining my stiff demeanor with him. “Maybe.”
He doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer. I can tell his face is stern with irritation without even looking at him. Why does it turn me on to annoy him so badly?
Then he asks, “Got a seat yet?”
Oh.
I hadn’t even given a first thought to that.
I spin around and face the sea of round tables. They are fast filling as people unite with friends and take their seats. I spot Mindy at one of the tables, but she’s sitting with Joel and all her gals, plus Billy and Tanner, and that’s a thicket of awkwardness I don’t want to be in the middle of, considering how I left things with Billy. I also see Lindsay with a few of her cheerleader friends I know, but she might still be clinging to some psychotic idea that I knew about Tanner and did unspeakable stuff with him. There’s a couple tables full of talkative theater, choir, and dance people, but I see exactly zero seats available there.
This is like looking for a spot to sit at for lunch period, except about fifty times worse.
I’m feeling the same dreadful anxiety in my stomach.
“Don’t sweat it,” he tells me. “I got a spot for you at my table. You know, with all my non-champion wrestlin’ buddies.”
“I, uh … I don’t think—”
“Nah, don’t worry, man. Right over here.”
“Chad …”
But the rest of my protests go ignored as he slings an arm over my back like some boorish caveman and scoops me under his muscled wing. Without much of a choice (that doesn’t involve my shoving him away and causing an awkward scene), I go along with him to the round table he and his buddies claimed. Seated there, I find the three from the restaurant last night—Owen, Jeremiah, and the bearded Kirk, plus Kirk’s wife Bonnie, who I remember. There are others I recognize too, but don’t know their names.
“Hey, y’all! I brought a guest,” announces Chad, bringing me right up to an empty chair next to him, which I’m basically dumped into. “Lance Goodwin, the one and only. Say hi. Don’t be rude.”
Owen, Jeremiah, and Kirk each give me a nod and greeting in turn, as well as Bonnie, whose greeting is sweeter. The others at the table introduce themselves too, but my brain is somewhere else, and their names go in one ear and out the other. Chad sits next to me, and immediately the men start going off about some infamous wrestling match in which Robby—who is noticeably absent from the table—almost broke his leg. Even Bonnie is in the middle of listening to it, laughing and throwing in comments about what she heard, how whiny Robby used to get. Kirk throws in a comment about their kid Kirkland being tougher than Robby was that day, causing the whole table to laugh—Chad included. I get the feeling after a short while of listening that I’m somewhere in the middle of the story, and maybe they were talking about all of this long before I got here.