Pretend You Love Me by Julie Anne Peters Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t win the games singlehandedly. That’s the thing about softball; it’s a team sport. No one player can determine the
     outcome.
    As I was removing my knee pads, I saw Coach Kinneson over by the backstop, jabbering away with a couple of suits, gesturing
     at me. What were guys in suits doing here? It made me feel uncomfortable. Guilty. Like I was wanted by the FBI or something.
    Jamie flounced up beside me. “Kicked their asses, Szabo.” He heldup a palm to high-five me. When I went to slap his hand, he jerked it away and jutted his hip into mine. God. He was so queer.
    Kimberleigh Rasmussen, head cheerleader, bounded up behind Jamie and poked him in the ribs. He yelped and slapped her away.
     “Hi, Mike,” she said. “Awesome games. You busted butt.”
    “Thanks,” I said.
    “Jamie, we’re going to the A&W in Garden City,” Kimberleigh told him. “You want to come?” The rest of the squad was piling
     into Kimberleigh’s SUV in the parking lot and hollering for Jamie. “You too, Mike,” she added.
    “No thanks,” I said. “I gotta get back.” I didn’t really; just didn’t feel much like partying today. The end of every game
     was a letdown. But especially this year. One less game to play. Counting down.
    Jamie looked from Kimberleigh to me. “I’ve got to get back too,” he said. Shocking the hell out of me. Why would he choose
     me over “his girls,” as he referred to the squad?
    Oh. I got it. “Go,” I told him. “I don’t need your pity party.”
    He looked at me funny. “If anyone’s throwing a party,
you
weren’t invited.”
    I sneered at him. He pressed his cheeks together and pooched his lips.
    Kimberleigh gawked at us like she didn’t know what the hell was going on. Me and Jamie did seem to have a language all our
     own. Jamie said, “I’m scheduled to work at two, okaaay?” he drew out the word. Waggling a finger at Kimberleigh, he added,
     “Don’t you girls do anything I wouldn’t do.”
    Kimberleigh said, “What would that be?”
    Jamie smiled. “Good point. Don’t get caught.”
    She pinched his arm and he yowled. He was eating up this cheerleading crap. How he ever got voted onto the squad is a mystery.
     His tryout cheer in front of the whole school went:
    “Strawberry shortcake
    Banana split
    We think your team plays like—”
    It must’ve been a joke to vote for Jamie. Maybe not. He was popular. Class clown. Athletic, though. Into gymnastics. He was
     fun to be around, even if he was the world’s queerest queer. People seemed to get past it. Jamie was just Jamie. He’d always
     been this way.
    “Hey, you all right?”
    I blinked back to the moment. “Yeah, why?”
    He stared into my eyes the way he does, like he’s trying to see down to my soul. Sorry, closed for repairs. Jamie said, “Let’s
     climb the water tower tomorrow and work on our bods. It’s perfect weather for sunbathing. Not so hot we French-fry our fannies.”
    “Sounds good.”
    “Eleven o’clock.” Jamie ground a stiff index finger into my bicep. “Don’t be late.”
    “You’re the one who’s always late.” I slapped him away.
    He clucked his tongue. “I operate on gay time. Oops, forgot.” He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “So do you.”
    I clubbed his hand down. “I have to get my gear.”
    “Meet you at the truck,” he said.
    Coach Kinneson clomped into the dugout as I was guzzling the last of my ice water. I was starving, eyeing that hoagie in my
     bag. I should’ve eaten on the way down. “Great game, Mike,” she said. “Both of them. You’re amazing.”
    I might’ve blushed. She was always doing that, singling me out. It was embarrassing.
    “Thanks,” I mumbled, adding as an afterthought, “You too.”
    She gave a short laugh. “What do I do except make sure we have enough players on the field? Six, right?”
    I smiled. She knew her limitations, anyway.
    “I talked to Mr. Archuleta yesterday and he said his mother is better. They’re