Read Online Secret Life (RVHS Secrets) by Bria Quinlan - Free Book Online
Authors: Bria Quinlan
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Pulling
me up and straight into a hug, she whispered in my ear, “You can stay in here
all you need, but I’d rather you be out there. Even with Mr.
Unsafe.” She let go and started toward the door, finishing over her
shoulder, “Especially since you’ll just be in the kitchen.”
Chapter
6
“Your mom makes great French toast.”
So not the opener
I thought he’d go for.
“Um, thanks.”
Chris stood and walked his dish to the sink, turning his
back on me while he rinsed it. I have to admit, that was a surprise too. I’d
assumed he’d expect to be waited on hand and foot.
“Rachel,” he started as he towel-dried the plate. “I know
you think I’m using you to get to Amy. Yeah, I’d like another shot with her,
but I know that’s not going to happen—at least for a while. The last thing I
want from you is help on that front. I just want to get my grades up. I wasn’t
kidding about her not knowing about this tutor thing.”
I placed my hands on the top of the kitchen island, afraid a
confrontation so soon after the little kick-the-day-off-meltdown would have
them shaking. The cool tiles with their mortar ridges felt solid beneath my
hands. Real. Centering.
“I’m still not—”
“Okay, how about this?” He leaned against the counter and
crossed his arms over his chest. “You agree to meet me a couple times this week
and we’ll see how it goes. Check me out. And I can see if you’re even worth
arguing about this with.”
Leave it to Chris to turn asking for a favor into a test
drive. And an insult.
It seemed fair—an easy way out. I could just say I wasn’t
comfortable…which I wasn’t. It sounded like he’d be more willing to hear that
after this whole test-week thing blew up. Which, I mean, only a cocky jock
would need to see evidence of how bad an idea this was. And maybe that would be
just enough time for me to get a better math foundation.
“Fine. But not
this morning. I have somewhere I need to be.”
He pushed off the counter and moved toward me so just the
island separated us.
“Are you going to Ben’s?”
How does he know this stuff?
“Why?”
He shot that grin at me, the one I was pretty sure typically
got him whatever he wanted.
“Because he called me this morning
and I could use a ride.”
I closed my eyes for a second. I’m not sure I could do a drive
with just us in the car. My fingers crept down at my side, measuring my skirt,
judging where it fell and where it would when I sat down. When
I had to shift gears.
Safety skirts passed those tests ahead of time, but that
didn’t stop the blip. I filled my lungs, sucked in a breath, and opened my eyes again, focusing on his face and the odd look he gave
me. Oh, good lord, could he see something different.
I looked down at my arms and rubbed a hand across my
stomach—I swear my stomach was bigger than it had been this morning, but my
skirt wouldn’t fit then, right? Right? It had to be
fine. Glancing up, I saw he was looking at my face. Maybe it was my oversized
head he’d notice.
“Are you okay?” He was looking me right in the eye. It was a
sincere question.
I smoothed my hand down my sides again, trying not to yank
on the skirt’s hem, and nodded.
I’ll admit I was surprised when he didn’t jump on my answer
and push his case for a ride. He continued looking at me as if he’d see a
different answer. He leaned forward, closing the space between us.
I suddenly felt glad for that annoying kitchen island, even
if I’d walked into its corner six million times before. I’d never noticed this
level of intensity coming off him, but I guess that’s because it had never been
focused at me before.
It messed with me…in too many of the expected ways.
Hot guys are not an accessory. Yup, I’ll just keep telling
myself that. Dr. Meadows has made it very clear that tying my self-worth to
boys is bad, bad, bad. She’d say I need to get validation somewhere besides
having a hot guy on my
me up and straight into a hug, she whispered in my ear, “You can stay in here
all you need, but I’d rather you be out there. Even with Mr.
Unsafe.” She let go and started toward the door, finishing over her
shoulder, “Especially since you’ll just be in the kitchen.”
Chapter
6
“Your mom makes great French toast.”
So not the opener
I thought he’d go for.
“Um, thanks.”
Chris stood and walked his dish to the sink, turning his
back on me while he rinsed it. I have to admit, that was a surprise too. I’d
assumed he’d expect to be waited on hand and foot.
“Rachel,” he started as he towel-dried the plate. “I know
you think I’m using you to get to Amy. Yeah, I’d like another shot with her,
but I know that’s not going to happen—at least for a while. The last thing I
want from you is help on that front. I just want to get my grades up. I wasn’t
kidding about her not knowing about this tutor thing.”
I placed my hands on the top of the kitchen island, afraid a
confrontation so soon after the little kick-the-day-off-meltdown would have
them shaking. The cool tiles with their mortar ridges felt solid beneath my
hands. Real. Centering.
“I’m still not—”
“Okay, how about this?” He leaned against the counter and
crossed his arms over his chest. “You agree to meet me a couple times this week
and we’ll see how it goes. Check me out. And I can see if you’re even worth
arguing about this with.”
Leave it to Chris to turn asking for a favor into a test
drive. And an insult.
It seemed fair—an easy way out. I could just say I wasn’t
comfortable…which I wasn’t. It sounded like he’d be more willing to hear that
after this whole test-week thing blew up. Which, I mean, only a cocky jock
would need to see evidence of how bad an idea this was. And maybe that would be
just enough time for me to get a better math foundation.
“Fine. But not
this morning. I have somewhere I need to be.”
He pushed off the counter and moved toward me so just the
island separated us.
“Are you going to Ben’s?”
How does he know this stuff?
“Why?”
He shot that grin at me, the one I was pretty sure typically
got him whatever he wanted.
“Because he called me this morning
and I could use a ride.”
I closed my eyes for a second. I’m not sure I could do a drive
with just us in the car. My fingers crept down at my side, measuring my skirt,
judging where it fell and where it would when I sat down. When
I had to shift gears.
Safety skirts passed those tests ahead of time, but that
didn’t stop the blip. I filled my lungs, sucked in a breath, and opened my eyes again, focusing on his face and the odd look he gave
me. Oh, good lord, could he see something different.
I looked down at my arms and rubbed a hand across my
stomach—I swear my stomach was bigger than it had been this morning, but my
skirt wouldn’t fit then, right? Right? It had to be
fine. Glancing up, I saw he was looking at my face. Maybe it was my oversized
head he’d notice.
“Are you okay?” He was looking me right in the eye. It was a
sincere question.
I smoothed my hand down my sides again, trying not to yank
on the skirt’s hem, and nodded.
I’ll admit I was surprised when he didn’t jump on my answer
and push his case for a ride. He continued looking at me as if he’d see a
different answer. He leaned forward, closing the space between us.
I suddenly felt glad for that annoying kitchen island, even
if I’d walked into its corner six million times before. I’d never noticed this
level of intensity coming off him, but I guess that’s because it had never been
focused at me before.
It messed with me…in too many of the expected ways.
Hot guys are not an accessory. Yup, I’ll just keep telling
myself that. Dr. Meadows has made it very clear that tying my self-worth to
boys is bad, bad, bad. She’d say I need to get validation somewhere besides
having a hot guy on my
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