Food, Cats, and Being Lazy

Chapter Eight

When I got to school the next day, I was thinking about Collin again. Surprise, surprise. I thought about him all the time, but I couldn’t get over the fact that he’d talked to me. I wanted to go run off and faint somewhere every time I thought about it. But I met Lara in the atrium and then headed off to PE.

I loved PE. And not for the reasons you’d think. I wasn’t athletic and I never would be. I slugged behind the rest of my class and often got picked last or not at all. Sometimes my teacher would punish me for not doing something right and I’d have to run around the track wheezing like I was going to drop dead any second.

I loved PE because sometimes the soccer team practiced out there during the early free period for seniors. And that day Collin was out there with his friends running around in his shorts with his hair shining in the sun and sweat glistening on his skin. And when I thought about the fact that he was sweaty, yet he always looked so fresh and clean at school, it made me think they took showers at school. And then thinking of Collin in the shower got me al—lyou get the point.

So I wasn’t focused. Not even a little. We were on the tennis courts just a bit away from the football field where the soccer boys were practicing. And I wasn’t paying attention. So my teacher snapped at me and forced me to run the track for the rest of the period. The track was wrapped around the football field. So I slugged along like I was dying and wasn’t so much “running” as “wheezing loudly and gasping as I stumbled along.” And every time I got too slow I would hear a shout of, “Keep it going, Finnegan!” from the tennis courts.

When the ten-minute bell finally rang to let us know class was almost over, I dropped to the rubber track and sat there hating myself for not paying more attention in tennis. I got to see more of Collin from the tennis court than I did from the track. Even though I was closer to him on the track, I still couldn’t see him very well since my eyes got all blurry and I was trying to focus on breathing. And I’d rather blend into a group of kids playing tennis than be one single girl running around the track beside them. Though he did once kick the ball out of bounds right ahead of me and I got to watch him sprint after it.

I was pretty sure my life was about to change. Maybe it was the haircut. Maybe—something else. That’s all I could think of. But Collin and his teammates were passing me to get back to the gym to go shower and do whatever sexy things boys do when they’re all covered in sweat. I looked up as Collin was heading my way. To my surprise, he looked back and nodded toward me.

I died.

Dead.

“Hey,” he said.

I died again. Oh God, please don’t let this be one of those instances where the person he’s talking to is standing right behind me and I’m about to make a fool of myself by responding.

“Hi,” I replied anyway.

“Pip, right?” My eyebrows rose and I turned around to see if anyone was behind me. Nope.

“Piper—actually,” I told him.

“Oh. Well, that’s what Vincent always calls you.”

“Vincent talks about me?” He looked around and leaned his hand against his hip. His other hand was clutching a bottle of Gatorade.

“Here. You look dehydrated. I didn’t open it.” He sat the bottle down at my feet. “Later,” he said casually. When he was gone, I laid back down on the track, clutching the bottle of Gatorade and staring up at the blue sky.

Oh my God.

Collin talked to me.

He gave me his Gatorade.

He called me Pip.

Well, technically Vincent called me Pip, which was weird on its own. But still.

He called me Pip. He talked about me with Vincent. He knew my name. He saw me running around the track (looking horrendous) but he gave me his Gatorade. Those hands touched this plastic bottle. Those lips intended to drink from this bottle. And instead—he gave it to me.

I squeaked out loud. That was another one of those things my mom hated. I squeaked when I got excited. I squeaked when I was scared. I squeaked loudly when I saw cute things. And I just happened to think a lot of stuff was cute.

“Finnegan!” I heard my PE teacher shout. So I jumped up, grabbed the bottle, and rushed after my class. My face was sore from smiling, but I couldn’t stop. My heart was still pounding, and even though I looked atrocious, I’d had the best day ever. And it was still early.

Collin talked to me, he knew my name, he admitted to talking about me with his friends, he gave me his Gatorade. Life could not get any better.