Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(11)
“At least it’s better than taking shop class or band.” I shrugged, clutching my binders to my chest as I scanned the crowded hallway.
“Barely.” Cass huffed. “Why can’t they give us something useful?”
I snorted. “Since when is cooking not useful?”
“I can just live off the French fries from the Horseshoe forever.”
“I can’t talk about fries right now. Denny and I ate so much poutine last weekend it made my stomach hurt.”
Cass raised her eyebrow, a glimmering expression calling me out for mentioning Denny again. According to her, I found a way to work him into every conversation, which simply wasn’t true. I only brought up Denver Wells when the story fit the conversation. Just so happened, I usually had a story involving him that fit.
Shaking my head with an irritated eye roll, I spotted him. Down the hall, past the band room, Denny was huddled with a group of boys by a bank of lockers. With his back to us, it was the perfect opportunity for payback. I raced up behind him and pinched his side—a move he’d done to me at least a million times over the summer. He jumped, twisting his torso midair to see who the culprit was.
I stupidly expected a laugh. Maybe a retaliation tickle.
Instead, he metaphorically slapped me across the face when his voice grew low and, in an annoyed tone, he said, “Oh, hi, Hart.”
“Hi,” I croaked, unsure why he was acting like we hadn’t spent nearly every day together for the last two months.
Denny turned back to his friends, who stood with scrunched noses, staring at me like the biggest weirdo in school. And maybe I was. Any other girl in our grade would’ve swooned over Denny simply looking at them. But my eyes welled, my cheeks grew hot, and my intestines knotted with embarrassment.
Screw Denver Wells.
* * *
—
For the entire week, I made up excuses for why I couldn’t go to the ranch after school—a stomachache, a headache, chores, tutoring. On Thursday evening, I was sprawled across my bed reading a Seventeen magazine, daydreaming about Chad Michael Murray, when the phone rang. The garbled sounds of my dad’s low voice traveled down the hallway until he was knocking heavily on my door. I sprang to life, and cracked my bedroom door open, snatching the cordless house phone from his hand with a smile.
Expecting Cassidy, I didn’t even say hello. Instead immediately jumping into conversation with, “Do you want to take this quiz with me to see which guy from One Tree Hill you should date?”
Lucy Wells’s laugh filled my ear. “I think they’re probably too young for me, but you do have me curious.”
“Sorry, Lucy. I thought you were Cass. What’s up?”
“Well, I haven’t seen you all week….” Fudgesicles. “Jackson said you were sick or had tutoring or something. Are things okay?”
The deceit came easily when I was simply lying to Jackson as we’d cross paths in the school halls each day. But I couldn’t lie straight to Lucy like this. Not when there was clear concern in her voice, and I could so easily picture the worried maternal look that was definitely on her face.
“I just…” I picked at my fingernails, delaying the inevitable. “Things are weird with Denny and me right now.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a convenient excuse because you’re afraid to tell me you don’t want to compete anymore? If you want to quit, I promise my feelings won’t be hurt.”
“No! I love riding. I love barrel racing. I mean…I was serious when I told you I wanted to try breakaway roping next year. I definitely don’t want to quit, but…”
“Okay, so I guess I’m not understanding the issue here. You two are best friends.”
I let out a breathy exhale. I thought we were, too, before he went and acted like a moldy muffin at school. “We’re not friends anymore, apparently. So I figured it would probably be weird if I was still at the ranch every day.”
“Well, it’s your choice. But if you still love riding, I don’t think you should give up on your dreams because of a boy. If it’s weird for him to have you here, he can learn to deal with it. This place is big enough—he can go somewhere else. You don’t need to suffer for the sake of his comfort.”
I couldn’t help the small smile her words made crop up on my lips. “Yeah…okay, yeah. I’ll come out. Maybe I’ll see if my dad can drive me on Sunday.”
“Perfect. You know where everything is, and you’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thanks, Lucy.”
“So…who’s my teenage heartthrob boyfriend? Maybe I’ll see if their dad’s available.”
* * *
—
Megan Barlow’s parties were the height of Wells Canyon’s adolescent social scene—which wasn’t saying much, considering our entire high school had about two hundred students spread across grades eight through twelve. I didn’t particularly like Megan…. In fact, I don’t think anybody did. But we collectively overlooked how much of a rude person she could be because her family was rich, and her parties were always incredible.
And with this about to be our first party as high schoolers, Cassidy and I spent our entire Saturday preparing. Manicures, pedicures, outfits…we even shaved our legs for the first time—only to the knee, because my grandma insisted anything further was reserved for when you were “entertaining company.” Whether it was the phrase or the accompanying wink, I’m not sure, but it turned me off shaving past the knee for a long time.