Game On by Michelle Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

someone talk to a girl like that. If I’d even tried, both my dad and brother would have smacked the hell out of me. But it’s not only that—this is
Bri
. This is the girl whose laugh is one of those that makes you grin and just watch—watch her eyes brighten and her smile widen and her cheeks flush. She gives everything all she’s got, even something as small as a laugh. Someone stealing that from her is downright criminal.
    â€œWhat happened?” I ask. “What started all that?”
    She looks away again, at her house. Silence hangs in the air, thick as a wool blanket. As seconds tick by, and those seconds turn into minutes, it’s clear my question’s not going to be answered.
    I’m not gonna lie: I used to have a thing for the neighbor girl. But when people talk about the girls who are way out of your league, they don’t always mean the rich girls, or the ones who act like their crap doesn’t stink. There really are girls out there who are too good for you, the ones you’d bring down if you got too close. The ones who’ve built themselves up so damn high that you can’t even imagine bringing them down, because if you do, it’d be like shattering the monuments at Yankee Stadium. Which is why I haven’t pushed that friend-neighbor-whatever thing we’ve got. It’s why I’ve stomped those feelings down every time they’ve crept up over the past few years, and there’ve been more than a few times.
    It’s also why Matt Harris is even more of a bastard for stealing her laugh.
    â€œHe’ll call tonight,” she says, I think more to herself than to me. “I’m surprised he hasn’t yet. I just hope he doesn’t show up here. He’s not a good loser.”
    She doesn’t have to tell me twice; I’ve seen the guy throw plenty of batting helmets and bats on the field. Coach got all over him once last season for bailing on a post-game handshake. I unbuckle my seatbelt and shove my keys into my pocket. “Know what I think?” I ask. “If he does call you after that, you need to tell him to go fuck himself. And if he shows up, tell him to pay me a visit. I’ll straighten his ass out real quick.”
    â€œYou really kiss girls with that mouth?”
    â€œI kiss girls very, very well with this mouth.”
    She sighs, shaking her head as she hops down from the truck. I do the same, the gravel crunching beneath my boots. The slamming of her door is like a shotgun piercing the Sunday evening silence. She passes me the paper bag, still not quite meeting my eyes.
    I nod toward her house. “When’s your dad coming back?”
    She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “A few days. No big deal.”
    No big deal.
Practically living by yourself seems like a pretty big deal. “I know it’s been a while, but you’re still welcome at our house anytime. Momma loves feeding people. It might be mac and cheese three nights a week, but it’s food.” Ever since she went back to teaching last year, Momma’s favorite things are blue box mac and cheese and pre-packaged lasagna. These are also my favorite things.
    For the first time tonight, Bri smiles. It’s tiny, but it’s there. “I do love mac and cheese.”
    â€œI’ll even share with you.”
    â€œThat’s so considerate.”
    â€œI’m a considerate guy. Mi casa es su casa.”
    And finally, finally, I get a laugh out of her, one with bright eyes and a full smile, and I can’t hold back my own.
Thank you, Spanish class.
“That’s the twangiest Spanish I’ve ever heard,” she says. “Señora Hernandez would be ashamed.”
    Don’t care. If it makes her laugh like that, I’ll embarrass myself every day of the week.
    She backs away, toward her yard. “Thanks for the ride.”
    I shrug. “It’s the least I could do. You rescued my