Chapter 13: The Best Football Player: Shane

Grayson didn't talk to me all day, not that I expected him to. I totally blew off his kiss on Saturday. But I didn’t expect him to be angry at me for two days. Especially when we have to have our food prepared by tomorrow, which means we have to cook today. I ignored my Spanish teacher and continued to think about several things, one of them being how I’m going to get Grayson back. I know, I know, I seem like the devil for plotting when the guy is angry at me but don’t I have a right to be angry at him? I’m labeled as the girl who’s obsessed with Grayson Carter now. It’s not a good image.

“Ms. Peters, are you paying attention?” Ms. Estevez piped, earning my attention. I’d gotten used to her thick Spanish accent.

"No, she's thinking about Grayson," someone in the back of the class snorted.

I nodded my head, making eye contact with Kyle only to see him snickering at me. “Yes, Ms. Estevez.”

She gave me a pointed look before proceeding to teach, only to be interrupted by the piercing bell. I quickly shuffled out of the classroom, thankful to be in the crowded hallways. It was better than being confined in a classroom, especially Spanish 3. “Audrey!”

I turned to see Lola rushing towards me, elbowing people out of her way. Once she reached me, she grinned. “Did you come up with an idea yet?”

I shook my head and she groaned. “My suggestion is still up for grabs.”

I rolled my eyes at her and shook my head. She thinks I should hide in Grayson’s locker and shoot him with a nerf gun…or a real gun, either works. How do I even know if he goes to his locker? For all I know, I could be stuck in there for 5 years! How would we get into the locker anyway? Suddenly, I had an idea. I turned to look at Lola who was grinning. “I have an idea!”

“What? What is it?” she asked me and I shook my head, quickly motioning her to the lunch room. I couldn’t help but smirk.

Once we reached the lunch room, I decided that I wasn’t going to eat. Today, we were invited to sit with the football players. Lola and Sandra quickly took a seat while I politely declined, catching a glimpse of Grayson who stabbed his burger, causing the bread to fly across the table.

I guess I’ll have to wait to discuss my plan with the girls. As of right now, I guess I’ll just wander the halls and wait until the bell rings.

~~~

“Did you guys happen to hear where Grayson was going during last period?” I asked my two friends curiously.

Sandra nodded. “He has to finish a project for AP US Gov. and Politics so he’s going to go to the library.”

I nodded my head, pursing my lips. Will the teacher allow me to leave class early? I waved at my friends as I entered the classroom. I waited fifteen minutes before I asked if I can leave early. The teacher quickly dismissed my question, snapping at me. He said that we have too much work to do and I was insane if I thought he’d allow me to leave class ten minutes early. I bit my tongue and nodded, holding back a sarcastic reply.

I waited another ten minutes before letting my hand shoot into the air for the second time this period. “What, Ms. Peters?”

“May I please go to the bathroom?” I requested as I pretended to fidget in my seat. He nodded and told me to be quick. I grabbed the pass and sighed as I galloped down the hallway.

The library was quiet and only a few kids were here. I entered the silent area and was quickly bombarded by the perky librarian. “Please sign in.”

“That won’t be necessary; I’ll only be a minute,” I informed her.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You still need to sign in.”

I shifted feet as I nervously glanced around, catching Grayson’s gaze as he quirked an eyebrow. “Listen, Mr. Edgewood told me to be quick and to get a book and go, I’m already running a bit late so can I please just check out a book?”

“How about I get you a bit more time from Mr. Edgewood?” she asked, picking up the phone.

I quickly began to stammer and shake my hands, the pass flailing around. “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary. They’re taking a test and I don’t think Mr. Edgewood would be very happy!”

She slowly put the phone down. “Then why did he let you out of class?”

I bit my lip. “Uhm, because I finished my test early and I had nothing to do!” I explained.

She nodded. “Be quick or else I’ll call Mr. Edgewood.”

I gave a quick nod and speed walked to where Grayson was sitting with a blank look on his face. “Hey, we need to talk.”

“If it’s about Saturday, I can explain,” he told me and I shook my head, my cheeks blazing quickly.

“Our Home Ec project is due tomorrow,” I told him and he shrugged.

“So?” he asked.

I clenched my teeth. “We need to cook the food.”

His glare didn’t dim. “Hey, I paid for all of it- the least you can do is cook it,” he snapped and I gave him a flat look.

“Did you forget that I can’t cook?” I barked before quieting down. “Besides, we have to work and there is no way we can finish in the matter of three hours.”

He glared down at his work. “Call in sick to work.”

“We can’t both call in sick to work,” I told him and he sighed.

“I guess we can ask her if we can have the day off. Besides, we’re only supposed to be organizing books for an hour,” he muttered and I sighed.

“I hope so,” I stood up and wiped off my pants, which were covered in eraser shavings thanks to Grayson. “Come over my house by 2:30 PM, no excuses.”

I began walking away only to hear him scoff under his breath. “You missed some eraser shavings.”

I blushed and wiped the back of my pants before rushing out of the library, avoiding the nosy librarian.

~~~

I quickly rushed to my house, picking up my phone and calling the library. “Hello?”

I fiddled with my hands. “Ms. Janie, I don’t think that Grayson and I can make it to work today.”

“Why not?” Ms. Janie asked curiously.

“We have a project due tomorrow,” I told her and she was silent.

“Why can’t you guys work on it here? It is a library, honey,” Ms. Janie reminded me.

I pursed my lips. “It involves cooking so I don’t think we can do that.”

Ms. Janie sighed. “Fine, but I expect you guys to make up for it!” she laughed before hanging up.

‘We’re in the clear about work,' I sent to Grayson. He didn’t bother to reply and I didn’t bother to care.

Okay so maybe I did.

Just a little bit.

~~~

I was in the living room when my mother told me that she was getting ready to leave. I grabbed some of her bags and helped her bring them to the door. She told me how she had this case between the Bensons. If you were wondering, my mother is a divorce lawyer. And she also happens to have green thumbs, which is why she carpools to work with Emily, who was currently waiting outside in her van. Grayson was getting out of the front seat and walking towards the house. I glanced at my phone. 2:27. Right on time. He's lazy; he hitched a ride with his mother when he barely lives five houses away.

I noticed that Grayson changed and I did the same thing, only I was wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt and he was wearing jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt, but the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. I heard incessant barking and I sighed. Tobias was racing towards the door and I quickly yanked Grayson inside and slammed the door, cutting off Tobias’s swift exit. Meadow meowed as if mocking him.

“This is Tobias?” he asked as he stared at my small dog. I nodded. “As in the dog you chose in 8th grade?”

I nodded, surprised that he remembered. “He’s so…small,” he nudged Tobias, who was lying down on his side, panting heavily from his short sprint, with his foot. “And he’s fat.”

I gave him a flat look. “How’s Finster?”

His eyes widened slightly. “He’s good…he actually got bigger, unlike someone.”

I pointed to my dog. “I fed him, as you can see, he just didn’t do his job and grow!”

I thought I saw the corners of Grayson’s mouth quirk up slightly before he coughed. “We should get started.”

“Let’s make the lasagna first,” I told him, shoving him a list of ingredients. He stared it and followed my lead by rummaging through the cabinets in search of anything on the list. Although, I’d gotten most of it- he got a view of the cabinets so hopefully, by the time we make the brownies, he can be a bit more helpful

“Here, you do this,” I told him as I pointed to the first step. He had to make some of the main ingredients. He gave me a flat look.

“Of course you tell me to do the difficult thing,” he muttered under his breath. I raised both of my hands.

“I can’t cook!” I replied and he just glared at the list of things he had to cook over the stove. I preheated the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Half of the ingredients that he was working with were major items and I’ll admit that if he messes this part up- we’re going to have terrible lasagna.

I brought out the large pot and filled it with water. I dropped a bit of salt into the pot and waited for it to boil. When it did, I placed the lasagna noodles into the pot. While I waited for them to cook, I watched Grayson silently as he prepared the ingredients.

“If you’re going to watch me, you might as well help,” he muttered and I felt my face warm up again. I awkwardly walked over to him and he motioned towards the seasonings, which were a few feet away from him and across the kitchen island. I wondered why he spaced it out like that. Was he avoiding me? It made sense, he didn’t want me to sit next to him at lunch and he didn’t talk to me since Saturday night.

If he was really that embarrassed about his slip up on Saturday then I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t say anything reassuring because it’ll come out as cocky. For all I know, he could be upset about Finster being sick yet I’m sitting here assuming that the fact that I rejected his kiss upset him.

I couldn’t help but think about what it’d be like if I didn’t reject his kiss and we did end up kissing? Would it be the same and he’d be avoiding me? Or would it be calmer and less…tense? I couldn’t help but glance up at him every so often. It was obvious that he was avoiding my gaze. I finished measuring the seasonings and placed the chopping board, with the seasonings in small cups on it, over to him. He didn’t even acknowledge my action and just continued to mix in the various cans of tomato. I sighed and walked over to the lasagna noodles, which were finished. I quickly lifted the pot and poured it into a drainer and watched as the steam spread around the room, disappearing once the cold water was turned on.

While the pasta drained, I grabbed a mixing bowl and mixed the ricotta cheese, the egg, the remaining parsley, and a half teaspoon of salt. I mixed it and put it aside.

He looked at me and took the bowl from me, grabbing the drained and finished lasagna noodles and placed them in front of him. He grabbed the pan we set out and began setting up the lasagna. I watched as he did it, humming quietly to himself. A guy who can cook, that’s hot. I rolled my eyes at my thoughts and began gathering the materials for the brownies while he finished off the lasagna.

I read the instructions and began doing as told. The instructions called for a preheated oven, but luckily it was the same temperature as the lasagna so I didn't have to change anything. I reached for the two 8 inch pans and began greasing them. I realized that Grayson finished with the lasagna and put it into the oven before looking at the list, not even bothering to glance at me. I clenched my teeth and continued to grease the pans.

He was currently melting a half cup of butter while I opened the sack of flour. I realized he was muttering something under his breath and I sighed. “What?”

He didn’t even bother to glance at me so I repeated myself a bit louder. I knew that he heard me; we were about three feet away from each other in a completely silent house! I lifted my hand out of the sack of flour and slammed it down on the table, causing a puff of white smoke to settle overhead and land on Grayson’s agitated face. His long eyelashes were covered in dots of white, along with his hair. It was like a scene in a movie. My jaw dropped slightly and the corner of my lips perked up slightly; I attempted to stop the smile that spread, but I failed.

I couldn’t help but laugh. A slight chuckle turned into a side splitting laughing fit. I couldn’t see Grayson but I knew that he was angry due to the silence. I tried to open my eyes but my laughing wouldn’t allow me to. My face was scrunched up in pure amusement as I held my stomach. When I finally stopped laughing, I stole a glance to see Grayson fuming, his fists clenched. My chuckles slowly faded as I stared at him.

Instead of punching me, he unveiled handfuls of flour that he tossed at me, causing me to squeal when the puff took up my vision. I closed my eyes tightly, allowing the white flour to land on me. I peeked one eye open when I heard a familiar sound, Grayson was laughing at me. I looked down at myself and I realized why. Not only was my face covered in flour, but my whole entire outfit was, too. Along with the kitchen floors…now that’s something they don’t display in movies.

I narrowed my eyes at him but continued to flour the pans, glancing at him occasionally as he continued to make the brownies. I decided to make the frosting. I followed the directions and mixed everything. Halfway through creating the frosting, I noticed Grayson fidgeting with his phone. Music blasted throughout the house and I turned to look at him but he didn’t bother to glance back at me. I groaned inwardly, so we’re back to square one.

~~~

Once everything was in the oven, I sat down at a stool on the island and sighed loudly. That was a lot more work than I had planned. The music was still playing and I saw Grayson dancing around as he leaned over to get the lasagna from the stove. I placed my head back down until I heard him close the oven. I looked up and groaned again before slamming my finger down on the pause button of his music.

“Are you avoiding me or something?” I snapped. There was no reply. I narrowed my eyes at Grayson’s back. “Grayson?”

I glared at him, standing up and walking over towards him. I stood beside him, watching as he stared at the stove top in front of him, refusing to meet my gaze. “Grayson,” I continued repeating his name until I saw his fists clench around the stove’s handle. I hoped that he wouldn’t hit me.

“Grayson, Grayson, Grayson, Grayson, Grayson, Grayson,” I continued to speak, tilting my head sideways as I sat on the counter, swinging my feet.

“What?” he hissed finally. I counted how many times I said his name, too- 93. It was a record and somehow, his name didn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked him. He didn’t reply and as I went to open my mouth, his hand clasped over my lips, quieting me immediately.

My mouth warmed along with my face as he stood off to my side. He looked irritated as turned his gaze to me. The flour that was in his long eyelashes was gone now, but it remained in his hair. “Are you mad at me?” It came muffled from beneath his hand but I’m guessing he got the point.

He dropped his hand and shook his head. “No.”

“Then why are you acting so hostile? Well, at least more hostile than usual,” I asked as I stared at him, still shocked at the fact that he willingly touched my face.

He let out a breath before running his hand through his hair, causing flour flakes to fall to the already messy floor. “I’m just tired; I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

He’s such a terrible liar, I wonder if he knows that. Well, if he doesn’t- I’m going to tell him right now. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He groaned and looked at me for the first time since we started cooking, well aside from when his hand was over my mouth but I think that was from the fear of me licking his hand. “I’m not lying.”

“Whatever you say…liar,” I told him as I swung my legs childishly. I saw him clench his teeth and I pursed my lips. “Well, whatever I did- I’m sorry.”

I don’t know why I'm apologizing. I guess I just don’t like people being angry at me. “How are you sorry if you don’t know why you’re supposed to be sorry?”

I shrugged. “I’m guessing it has something to do with me, you are refusing to look at me. And don’t think I missed your little stab fest at the lunch table earlier,” I reminded him.

He stared at the ground before looking up at me with a small smile on his lips. “You saw that?”

I nodded. “Yeah, if you wouldn’t have done that, I would’ve sat with you guys just to annoy you but I was worried that the burger would morph into my head and I’d have plastic fork stabs all over my face.”

He let out a small laugh and I felt a bubble of relief pop in my heart, causing little relief bubbles to flutter around. At least he wasn’t searing with anger anymore. “I wouldn’t stab you with a plastic fork…it’d be a metal knife.”

I glared at him but couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto my face. “You’re so scary, Betty Crocker.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “At least I can cook.”

“I can cook!” I snapped and he gave me a flat look. “Okay, maybe I’m not a chef but I’d be able to support myself.”

He snorted. “Yeah, because anyone can live off of macaroni and cheese and sandwiches.”

I glared at him. “And cereal, oatmeal, and ramen noodles,” I replied, crossing my arms.

He feigned a surprised look. “Really? That wasn’t on your list!”

I reached out and punched his shoulder. “Watch your mouth, Carter.”

“That was such an original nickname,” he snorted sarcastically. “And that hit really killed me; I think I need to visit the hospital.”

I rolled my eyes at him before giving him a curious look. “Why were you angry at me?”

He shrugged. “It was a stupid reason, really.”

“Then tell me,” I urged. I was curious as to what it was. A smirk formed on his lips.

“You really want to know, don’t you?” I pursed my lips before nodding. “Then I won’t tell you.” I glared at him as he winked at me. The jerk is back, how great.

~~~

By the time the food was finished, Grayson and I already discussed that we were going to place it in my fridge. He’d walk over here in the morning and we’d pack it into my car and drive to and from school together. It seems like a good plan. I looked at Grayson as I grabbed the brownies and I was pretty sure a line of drool was pouring out of my mouth.

“Let’s cut them now," I told him, checking to see if they were cool. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Why?” he questioned curiously.

I gave him a sheepish smile as I batted my eyelashes. “I was thinking that if we have more than 32 brownies, we can split the leftovers.”

He stared at me for a second before averting his gaze. He grabbed the second tray of brownies and we began cutting them as evenly as we could. I quickly counted the brownies and realized that my pan had eighteen in all. I began easing them out of the pan and onto a plate, where I’d plastic wrap each individual one. Just in case I dropped them, they’d be safe. It’d also be easier to hand them out.