Double Clutch - Реинхардт Лиз (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .TXT) 📗

“Jesus, just as friends, Brenna!” he snapped.

“Wow, as sweet as that sounds, I’ll have to pass,” I bit out. “I have plans.”

“With who?” he asked, his voice tight.

“None of your business, Saxon.” The fact that he was acting so possessive really irritated me. “You know what, you’re not my boyfriend, and even if you were, I’m not a person who likes to be questioned about my every free moment. You need to find someone else to irritate.”

“But the thought of irritating you is literally what made me want to get out of bed this morning.” He gave me his best charming smile, but I kept my mouth in a straight line. He grunted. “Fine. Go out with whoever you want. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“I can keep hoping.” I punched his arm lightly. “If you want, I’ll let you buy me an extra ice cream. I was still pretty hungry after lunch yesterday.”

“It’s a date, Blixen. I’ve seen guys on the football team eat half of what you ate yesterday at lunch.”

“I’ve got a healthy appetite.”

“So, how did you like Tech?” he asked as we made our way into the crowded lunchroom and lined up to get food.

“I loved it. I met some really nice people, and the work we’re doing is interesting.” My mind went right to Jake’s face, and I felt a dizzy rush.

“I thought it was pretty crazy when you first told me you were going,” he admitted. “I’ve never known anyone with more than a double digit IQ who went to Tech.”

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” I said calmly, thinking, again, about Jake. “People who go to Tech learn to do things that we take for granted. I mean, you laugh about the girls who cut your hair, but if you had to do it yourself, that would suck, wouldn’t it?”

“I could just let it grow out.” He refused to give me an inch.

He could, sadly. And would probably look completely sexy. “Okay. What about the students who are in the electrical program? Carpentry? Culinary arts? Auto shop?”

“Maybe I’ll convert and become Amish.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” I put two yogurts and a banana next to my turkey sandwich and limp-looking salad. “Leave the modern world to join a sect of people who end formal education in eighth grade to basically learn a technical skill really well.” I gave him my best sarcastic/surprised look. “Hey wait! That sounds like a whole group of Techies doesn’t it? Only you’d have to also grow a beard, wear a funny hat and pray. A lot.”

“Alright, Blix.” He grabbed two ice cream sundaes. “No one likes a show off.” He grinned at me, and I couldn’t help feeling proud and happy that I’d managed to impress him.

“You love a show off, as long as that show off is you and everyone is cheering you on,” I said as we sat at his usual table. He tossed me a sundae cup, and I barely caught it.

“I thought you were a wonder athlete.” He chuckled.

“I’m a runner, Saxon. I never made any claim on hand-eye coordination. Thanks,” I added, holding up the cup. I plowed through lunch, excited about the ride to Tech and my afternoon classes. And, yes, I was very excited to see Jake Kelly again.

It was weird to think about one guy when the other one sat right there, entertaining a group of cool upperclassmen, looking over at me once in a while as if he was making sure I was paying attention. And no matter how much I tried to train my eyes on anything else, it seemed like he caught me every time I looked his way. Maybe it was just that I looked his way a lot. Or maybe it was that he looked my way a lot.

When the bell rang, Saxon walked me to the doors, then outside. I pulled my jacket on and zipped it, then put my skullcap on. I promised mom I would wear that and a scarf, which I wound around my neck.

He reached out and tucked the ends of the scarf into my jacket. “You look crazy.” The way he said it made me think that wasn’t quite what he was thinking when he looked at me.

“Feel free to look away,” I offered.

“Nah. I like a little crazy now and then. It’s chilly as hell out here. This is freaky weather. Soon I’ll be driving you to school.”

“Saxon, I already told you that isn’t cool. I like my bike, and when it’s too cold to bike, I’m going to take the bus.” I looked at him and tried to give a good serious look, but that’s kind of hard when you have on a skull cap with tiny moose all over it and a matching scarf.

“Listen. My date with Kelsie...” He paused and pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t think there’s going to be another one.”

“Great.” I saw a look of hope flash in his eyes and felt good crushing it. “Great for Kelsie.” I put one foot on the pedal. “She can do a lot better. I have to go, Saxon. I’m late.”

And I took off, not really wanting to see his face, and not really wanting to stay and talk anymore, because I might say what I really wanted to say. That I wanted to go on a date, just me and Saxon in the dark at a theater or in a restaurant, trading stories and jokes and touching now and then. Being around Saxon was like drinking my one allotted glass of Thanksgiving wine: completely intoxicating to someone who had never had alcohol.

I knew the best way to get Saxon totally out of my system was to pedal as fast as I could to Tech. And Jake.

Chapter 3

When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised to see Jake standing in front of the bike rack. He wore a Carhart jacket and a skullcap pulled on over a baseball cap. His jeans were clean but really old and faded; not like the old and faded you could buy at the store. I could tell Jake’s were that way because he had worn them so much the fabric was giving way. He wore work boots that were splattered with mud. I wondered if that was because of the dirt biking.

“Hey!” he called.

I locked my bike up. “Hey yourself,” I smiled. “Why are you waiting out here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I was excited to see you,” he said, his voice a little shy. His words sent a thrill of warmth through me. He looked at me quickly from under lashes that were lovely, long, and silky. I wondered if boys ever noticed their own lashes.

“You don’t have to freeze. I’ll come and meet you in class.”

“Then how could I offer to carry your books?”

I laughed. “You’re crazy,” I said, unintentionally echoing Saxon’s sentiment to me a few minutes ago. “I carry a backpack,” I pointed out.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t. Come on, before some better looking guy tries to pick you up, and I have to get in a serious fight.” He held out his hand, and even though I thought he was weird for wanting to, I gave him my backpack. He put it on and pretended to stagger under the weight. “Wow! Frankford must actually make you read and stuff.”