Page 21 of The Cheerleader

When we get to the door, she fumbles in her bag.

“Aren’t you going to knock?”

“No, silly. That’s what this is for.” She pulls a key from her bag.

“I can’t believe you have his key.”

“I told you we’re close.”

My belly tumbles around because I was counting on no one letting us in, then leaving quietly and uneventfully.

Instead, we cause a racket as she opens the door to his apartment and it bangs into a wall.

I cringe and mutter, “Shit.”

Liz shushes me like I’m the one making all the noise as we stumble inside. I accidentally kick an empty beer can that had been strewn on the floor, but I keep my mouth shut tight, suddenly tense and terrified to confront Bryan Granger and whoever else lives here. The living room is small, and I can barely see, so I look around for a light switch.

This is a bad idea, and I hope Liz doesn’t regret it later after the alcoholic haze wears off.

Unhampered by the dimness of the room, Liz drags us further inside before I have a chance to stop her. I feel like a thief in the night, and that feeling doubles when I hear footsteps and sense someone’s presence before he emerges from the dark hall.

He appears around the corner a few feet in front of us, and my eyes have adjusted enough to the dimness to see him very clearly. I stop short, and so does Liz.

A gulp forces its way past the lump of something in my throat—probably my heart. It’s beating frantically now, and I grip Liz’s arm with the intention of running the other way and dragging her with me before he calls the police on us.

He’s dressed in nothing but a scowl and his underwear, which is bright white like a neon sign in the shadowy light and more revealing than a Speedo. I jerk my eyes back to his face and don’t dare look down again after my first glance. Shit. Why doesn’t he wear pajamas or a shirt or something? Why does he stare at us that way, not even one bit of shame about advertising his… everything.

“What’s wrong?” Ignoring me, his stare zeroes in on Liz. I’m surprised at the concern in his voice because his face looks more like an angry wolf, all dark and growly with furrowed brows.

“Nothing’s wrong. We just… missed you.” Liz yanks on my hand and uses me as a shield. “You haven’t properly met Liz.”

His eyes shift to me, and I feel the cold blow over me, surrounding me, like he’s literally freezing me out, keeping me far away from whatever universe he exists in—metaphorically speaking. Because I can’t help thinking of him as alien. I have never, ever met anyone like him, man, woman, or beast.

“I know who you are. One of the cheerleaders.” His eyes flash like a bolt of lightning, and I see in that fraction of light a much younger version of him. Recognition dawns. Oh my god. He’s that boy.

He turns away from me. He doesn’t remember me. It’s like I go blind, deaf, and mute. But that’s okay because I can’t form a coherent thought, let alone figure out what to say. Not that he’s inviting me to speak—because he’s most certainly not.

He says to Liz, “If you’re okay, I’m going back to bed.”

She nods, but when she makes a move toward him, he adds, “Alone.”

The one word is deep and final, and whether he meant it to be or not, its effect is harsh, judging by the look on Liz’s face.

“Make sure she gets back to her dorm,” he says to me. “West Campus⁠—”

“I know. I’m her roommate.”

“That’s right,” Liz says to Bryan. “But you don’t know all about Susie, my best girlfriend.” She gives me a look and mutters, “You will.”

Her words shake me with confusing unease, feeling disquieted when I shouldn’t. But it’s the way she says the words, like she’s using me somehow. I try to play it cool. Bryan heaves a breath and gives me a questioning look.

His dark gaze lingers for a second on my tube top and travels down my bare midriff, causing pricks of excitement to flare up in its wake. Holy shit.

“I transferred here from another school and Liz⁠—”

“Congratulations.”

At best, he sounds sarcastic; at worst, he’s not-so-politely disinterested. Either way, he dismisses me, and his attention snaps back to Liz. He gently guides her into my hold, and I have no choice but to take control. I probably should have done that on my own, but I’m too used to Liz being in charge. Or, sure, it could be that Bryan rattles me. No. More than that.