The Year I Became Isabella Ande - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,76

something,” I promise him as he glances at his watch again. Am I boring him to death?

“I still can’t believe you went to Scotland,” he says, staring at me in awe. “I mean, I knew you went somewhere for the summer, but not Scotland.”

I wonder where he thought I was this summer. Did he buy into Hannah’s mental institution thing? “Where exactly did you think I went this summer? I’m just curious.”

“I knew you went on a trip with your grandma, but Kai never said exactly where you went.” He pauses, seeming conflicted. “Were you worried about Hannah’s rumor and the mental institution thing? Because, you should know, no one believes that.”

“Really?” I hug a pillow against my chest. “Why not?”

“Kai told everyone that it wasn’t true.” He intently studies my expression. “You didn’t know that?”

“No, I didn’t. He never said anything to me about it.” My thoughts drift to Kai.

Why didn’t he tell me? I wish I knew, so I could at least thank him.

God, I need to thank him, like a lot.

“Okay, I’m new at this not-being-a-douche thing, so you can totally tell me if I’m being rude,” he says with a hint of remorse in his voice. “But the games on in, like, five minutes and I—”

I laugh, cutting him off. “Kyler, you can turn on the game. It’s cool.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” I’m just glad I know what all the watch-checking was about.

I turn on the television for him and his attention instantly goes right to the screen. I think about sending Kai a text and thanking him, but a text doesn’t feel like the right way.

No, it should be in person.

Eventually, the air laces with the scent of soon-to-be done, yummy-in-my-tummy cookies. I’ve just started contemplating getting up and going into the kitchen, wondering if it makes me rude, when Kyler turns to me.

“You want me to explain the rules to you?” Kyler asks as a commercial comes on. “If you’re going to come watch me play, you should probably know what’s going on. That way you can cheer me on when I kick some ass.” He winks at me. “I kick ass a lot.”

“I bet you do,” I tell him, smiling from the wink. “You can try to explain the rules to me, but I’m going to warn you that I usually don’t catch on to stuff very quickly, unless I’m actually doing it.”

“I guess we’ll have to throw the ball around sometime then.” The dimple grin appears and my pulse quickens. “But I’ll try to explain it now, if that’s cool.” He gets an excited look in his eyes, like he’s pumped to be doing this.

The look is contagious and gets me pumped too, even if we’re going to be talking about football.

He faces the television again, sitting back in the chair and putting his arm on the back again. “Okay, so how much do you know about football?”

“A little bit.” I’m hyperaware that he’s playing with my hair. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. “My dad watches it sometimes, but he’s not a fan of me being anywhere near him when he does.”

“But you’re good at sports, right?”

“I’m okay, I guess. But football’s always seemed kind of boring to me.” I offer him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not one of those guys who thinks the game is everything. You don’t have to like it. But I want to try to get you to kind of maybe like it enough not to be bored out of your mind when you’re at my game, okay?” he asks and I nod.

He smiles and jumps right in, yammering about downs, defense and offense, goals, two point conversions. By the time he slows down, my mind is on football overdrive.

“It’s okay if you don’t get it all at first,” he says when he notes the crazed, wild-eye look I’m probably rocking.

“Good, because I’m definitely not getting it at all.” I look at the television screen. “I mean, I get the gist of it, but there’s so many rules and so many guys just running around on a field.”

“I’m probably boring you to death, aren’t I?” He shifts positions, sitting up straight and lowering his hand to his lap. “I have an idea. How about for every rule I tell you, you get to tell me one thing about comics and superheroes.”

“You know I’m into that stuff?”

He nods. “I’ve seen some of your drawings at school too. They’re pretty good.”

I mull over his offer.

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