Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,152

want to give this another shot. You don’t even have to decide this week. Hell, wait until school’s out for winter break if you must. I’ll wait that long.”

“Vann …”

“The ball is still in your court. I support you in whatever you decide, Toby. But for now …” He gives a nod toward the door next to us. “We should probably get inside before the bell rings. I’m kinda running on two strikes and a lot of thin ice here and can’t afford so much as a tardy.”

Then with a wink—and a note of reluctance—he lets go of me, pulls open the door, and holds it for me. After a bit of hesitation myself, thoughts and emotions swirling around inside me like some kind of spicy, experimental bisque I’ve never before tasted, I walk past him with a muted, “Thanks,” and head for our table in the back. Vann joins me, and soon the bell rings. The rest of our chemistry class is, indeed, a crackling experiment in chemistry, as every molecule in my body sputters and buzzes with excitement, fear, elation, and worry.

And maybe a little hope, too.

On the way to gym class, Vann accompanies me, just like old times, and yet it feels nothing like it did before. Phys-ed has a completely different energy, especially when all of us—Vann, myself, Hoyt, Benji, and Julio—are put in a group with some others to play a quick round of shooting hoops. When Julio has the ball at one point, he quickly passes it without reservation to Vann across the court, who then shoots a three-pointer. Afterwards, Julio even gives Vann a high-five, and I’m left staring at them in wonder.

I still haven’t ruled out the possibility that I’ve woken up in an alternate dimension, by the way.

After we’ve changed, I decide enough is enough. “Do you want to join me and the theatre peeps for lunch today?”

Vann gives me a steady, calculated look. “Only if it’s okay.”

“Yes. It is. I want you to.”

He smiles. “I’m all yours.”

The lunch period that follows is the strangest yet. Vann joins the theatre crowd after a long departure, and they welcome him back like he was never gone. Kelsey asks which barnyard Vann drove his bike into, because clearly he’s rolled out of it with some random farm boy’s wardrobe stuck on him. Vann mentions he’s taking a break from his motorcycle—just for a little while. “If I want to shed the bad boy image,” explains Vann, “then I have to really commit to it. All in, or not in at all.”

It’s those words that linger when we’re leaving the cafeteria for our fifth periods. “Vann …” I start to say as we pass by the wide windows of the school library.

“Toby.” He faces me. “I wasn’t sure how today would go, but I have one last thing I wanted to show you. I hope it doesn’t scare you away, but … if you’re willing to open your heart up to me just a little more, then meet me out by the bleachers after school, right by the baseball field. I’ll be there.” Then, after appearing to fight the urge to kiss me, Vann takes a deep, steeling breath and heads off to his next class. I don’t get to say what I wanted to say, but perhaps there will be a better time for my words.

And now I’m left wondering what the heck awaits me by the bleachers after school.

All fifth period, my leg bounces in place and my head swims after Lee interrogates me with a game of twenty questions, sitting in the desk next to me. The truth is, I really don’t know what’s up with Vann. I don’t know if this strange behavior of his today is, once again, a window within him opening up, showing me the vulnerable side of him he keeps locked up with his bad-boy act. I keep alternating from smiling dreamily to staring confusedly at the wall, utterly beside myself. Sixth period yearbook isn’t any different, but at least I can focus on all the tasks at hand—despite Kelsey constantly giving me quizzical looks and seeming to be bursting at the seams with questions of her own, especially after that totally unexpected lunch period we had. Then in seventh, I’m all alone at last, sitting in the back of the auditorium with all of my thoughts around me like tiny ghosts of worry and wonder, waiting for the ticking of the clock to release me.

But