Shut Out

Chapter twenty-five

I texted Logan from work the next afternoon and told him that I didn't need a ride home that night. I had another plan for what I'd be doing after work.

This time, I was the one to sneak up on Cash. He was in the magazine room at the back of the library, reorganizing a stack of National Geographics that some nerdy twelve-year-old had raided early in the afternoon. I stood in the doorway, watching the muscles in his back and arms flex and shift as he reached up to the shelf, right at his eye level, and placed each magazine neatly on top of the stack. The perfect order in which he arranged the magazines made me swoon a little.

I readjusted my posture, ran my hands down my skirt, and took a quiet breath before strutting over to him.

"Hey," I said, leaning against a shelf full of Newsweek issues.

Cash jumped.

"Oh, finally. I caught you off guard."

He turned and grinned at me. "Score one for Lissa."

"Yeah, well… You didn't almost fall off a ladder or crack your skull on a wooden shelf, so we aren't quite even yet."

Cash laughed and turned back to the magazines. "What's up?"

This was the curse of Cash and me. We were doomed to never, ever acknowledge the fact that we'd kissed. I was sensing a pattern here.

"I, um, have a favor to ask," I said. I could feel the heat rising into my face and neck, but I fought to keep calm. I'd rehearsed this, after all. This was part of the plan.

"Okay. What is it?"

"I'm supposed to write a thesis for English." I said it just like I'd practiced in the bathroom mirror that morning. "I'm working on this paper about how participating in sports affects, um, grades and stuff… for teenagers, you know? And, uh, Mrs. Perkins says I need firsthand accounts or something to validate my arguments. Would it be okay if I interviewed you?"

Cash looked at me again. "You want to interview me? Why don't you just interview your brother? He played football in high school, didn't he?"

"Um, yeah…. But that's only one sport," I pointed out. "I need people in different types. So I'd love your point of view on soccer and how it affects your health."

"You mean my grades?"

Crap. I was already screwing up the story.

"Right. Grades. So can you do an interview for me?" I batted my eyelashes in an attempt to appear seductive, but I was pretty sure I just came off looking ridiculous. "Please?"

Cash smiled at me as he put away the most recent copy of

National Geographic, the last that needed to be shelved. "You sure you want to talk to me?" he asked. "Won't it be weird with this whole strike thing? We are kind of enemies at the moment, aren't we?"

"Enemies?" I forced a laugh. "No, of course not. It'll be fine. As long as you don't try any of your battle tactics on me, I'll be good." I winked at him, and he grinned.

I kind of reveled in my own hypocrisy for a minute. He had no idea what was coming.

"I guess it's cool," he said. "But we can't do it here; Jenna will be on us in a heartbeat. When do you need it by? You could just e-mail me the questions."

"I was thinking in person," I said a little too fast. God, I needed to calm down. Focus. "And, um, what about tonight? After work? We could do the interview at your place if it's all right."

He thought about it for a second, then nodded. "Okay. That'll work. I'll give you a ride home afterward. Sound good?"

"Perfect," I said with a grin. "I'll see you after work."

When I walked out of the room, I made sure to move my hips in a sexy sort of sway, causing my skirt to swish around my thighs in just the right way to show more leg, but not too much more. I hoped Cash was watching me leave. I didn't look back to check.

Cash drove me to his house that night after work. It was the first time I'd ever been there, and I was eager to see where he lived. The answer surprised me.

The Sterlings lived in a trailer on the east side of town, only a

few blocks from the cramped apartment complex where Chloe lived with her mom. Somehow, I expected a guy as handsome and popular as Cash to live in a picket-fence type of house, only nicer and bigger than my home. Not that I was judging or anything. It was just unexpected.

Cash seemed a little embarrassed about letting me see his home. He smiled and opened the car door for me and walked me up to the small porch, but I could tell by the way he didn't meet my eyes that he was uncomfortable. Did he think I was the type to think less of him for where he lived? I really wasn't, and the fact that he obviously felt that way stung.

"Sorry, the place is kind of a mess," he said, unlocking the front door. "I don't bring friends over very often."

"Oh."

Or maybe I should just be honored that he'd agreed to bring me here at all. He could have said no, but instead he'd let me see his home. Maybe that made me special.

Not special enough for him to date, but special in some sort of distant way.

"My parents aren't here," he said, letting me walk in ahead of him. "Mom's at the hospital — she's a nurse, and she's got a long shift tonight. And Dad's staying overnight in Chicago, interviewing for a new job. So it's just us. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, of course." I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I was alone with him. No Jenna. No one to break us apart if things got heated. "I'm okay with that."

Cash gave me a small grin before gesturing for me to follow him toward the kitchen. It really wasn't as messy as he'd claimed.

The dishes were all washed, just sitting in the drainer, waiting to be put away. Actually, his place seemed almost as clean as mine.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" he asked.

"Oh, no, I'm… I'm fine." I could feel myself bouncing, my heel tapping an anxious rhythm on the linoleum. I needed to get this over with before my insides exploded. "So can I see your room?"

He looked a little startled, and I worried that I'd been a tad too forward, but he just nodded and gestured toward the hallway that led out of the kitchen. I walked down the narrow hall ahead of him, checking out the pictures that had been hung on the walls. Photo upon photo of Cash and his family.

I stopped and smiled at a particular picture that stood out to me. A little boy, presumably Cash, was standing on a soccer field, clutching a black-and-white soccer ball in his small hands. He couldn't have been more than four or five years old. On either side of him stood his parents: a pretty blond woman with her hand on her son's head, pushing long brown bangs from his bright green eyes, and a stocky, kind-faced man with his hand on Cash's shoulder, looking like the proudest father in the world.

"That was taken after my first game," Cash said, standing next to me and staring at the picture. "It was a league that played out in Oak Hill. One of the best days of my life."

"You won the first game?"

He laughed. "Oh, no. We lost pretty badly, but I didn't care. I was just happy my coach had let me off the bench. I loved the game from the minute I stepped onto the field, even when I was that little…. You can put that in your interview if you want."

"Yeah… my interview." I looked at the picture, at little Cash's big, goofy smile. It reminded me of the smile my dad wore whenever he talked about football, the way he remembered playing as a kid.

"Should we get started on that?" Cash asked, nodding toward the door to what I guessed was his bedroom. "I don't want to get you home too late or anything."

"Right," I said. "Okay. Let's get started."

It was time to set to work on The Plan. It wouldn't be hard, I told myself. All I needed was to get Cash to kiss me again. If I could get him to kiss me, I could make him want more. I could make him want everything, and then rip it away from him. I just had to make him kiss me.

Cash's bedroom was cramped but, thankfully, neat. A small twin-size bed was shoved into the far right corner, and a chest of drawers stood on the opposite wall. There was a desk with a computer and printer on it. A sports calendar hung on the wall, but other than that, the room was pretty blank. Almost… lifeless.

"I know it isn't much," Cash said nervously, watching me look around. "We haven't lived here long. After Dad got laid off, we had some money trouble and had to sell the house and move in here."

"Why don't you decorate?" I asked, dropping my purse onto the floor and sitting down on the bed. I crossed my legs, my heart pounding as I gave Cash a nice view of my upper thigh.

He shrugged and walked over to sit down beside me, his eyes barely turning toward my exposed skin. "I don't see the point.

I'll be moving out for college in less than a year, and Dad will get another job. They'll be able to buy another house. This is just temporary…. That's what they keep saying, at least." He sighed and looked away for a moment before letting his eyes meet mine again. "Honestly, I'm kind of afraid that if I settle in too much, Dad will think I've accepted this place as home. It's like, by not making myself too comfortable here, I'm showing I believe he'll find another job, you know?"

I nodded. I did know. I knew what it was like to smile and pretend to make a parent happy, to protect them. Cash was the kind of person who would do anything to keep his family going, even if it cost him. Just like Logan. Just like me.

No, no, no. I had to stop thinking about Cash in such a favorable way. I needed to keep reminding myself what an asshole he was. How he'd hurt me. Used me to help the boys win. I needed to remember so that my plan could work, so that I could use him right back and feel guiltless.

I edged a little closer to him, my bare knee brushing against his jeans. "What are your college plans?"

"Is this part of the interview?" he asked.

"No, I'm just curious."

Cash nodded and rubbed his head, making the short strands stand up. It was getting longer every time I saw him. I wondered if he was going to keep it short. I hoped he'd let it grow out a little. I wanted to see how he'd look with long hair, like he'd had as a kid. I wanted to run my fingers through his soft, brown waves and —

"Well, that's why I have to get a scholarship," Cash explained,

angling his body toward mine. "My parents can't afford to send me, so I need to keep up my grades and get this soccer scholarship. Coach is worried that my missing practice twice a week for work is going to mess up my chances."

"Do you think it will?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I hope not. I'm trying really hard to keep up; I work my ass off at the other practices… but it isn't like I'm going to quit my job at the library. My family comes first, and they need me right now, you know? Plus" — he smiled at me — "I like working there… with you."

I loved the way he smiled at me then. Warm and sweet. It made me forget how he'd hurt me. It was hard to be conniving and deceptive when a boy like Cash Sterling was staring at me with his beautiful green eyes.

"You know," he said, "this whole strike thing aside, I've liked working with you. I mean, when you aren't avoiding me or bossing me around." He grinned. "You kind of fascinate me. You're — "

I never found out what I was. Because I messed up.

The plan was to wait until Cash kissed me. But instead, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.