Jo Leigh - Catching His Eye

But his stealing her away wasn’t quite as romantic as her imagination presumed. He thanked her for all the times she’d listened to him go on about school and Cathy and football. He thanked her, in his shy, stumbling way, for helping him with English. And then he said goodbye, even though it wasn’t even summer yet. He’d said goodbye like he wasn’t ever coming back.

Who would have guessed that nine years later they’d be sitting in the last empty booth at Zeke’s Place? That the afternoon sun would stream through the holes in the plastic window shades in such a way. That he’d look at her with the same friendly eyes. As she thought it, she realized with a start that his eyes weren’t the same at all. They were older, although not by much, but that wasn’t the thing. Her memory of that day in the quad was vibrant inside her, and the most vivid of the memories was the look of excitement in Scott’s eyes. A look that held every promise, a look a man might have just before a great voyage. Now, his eyes seemed dull, defeated. She hoped it wasn’t so. “You look tired.”

“I am.” He signaled the waiter, who came right to the table. “I’ll have a Corona.” He looked at Emily.

“Iced tea, please.”

The waiter nodded and left to get their drinks. Then it was just her, Scott and the butterflies in her stomach. Tired or not, he still did it for her. Did it in a major way. A small part of her wanted to tell him how she’d loved him back in high school. But then sanity reared its blessed head. “So,” she said, steering the conversation in the direction it was supposed to go, “why are you so tired?”

He shook his head and her gaze was caught by his hair. The overhead light showed his subtle highlights, but it was the thickness that made her want to touch it. “The store. It’s taking a lot more work than I imagined.”

“I was so sorry to hear about your father.”

“Thanks. I miss him.”

“I’ll bet,” she said, amazed that even though he still made her nervous, it wasn’t all that hard to talk to him. In fact, it was more like old times than she ever would have imagined. “And I’ll bet your mother misses him, too.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s having a hard time of it.”

“How wonderful that you could come back to help.”

His jaw flexed, and his gaze shifted away. He put down his menu, then moved his water glass an inch to the left.

“Rather be somewhere else, eh?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “How did you…?”

“You may be a great football player, Scott, but you’re as subtle as a bull moose.”

He grinned. “Boy, some things never change.”

“Pardon?”

“You never did have a problem telling the truth, did you?”

She shrugged. “Only to myself.”

He studied her for a long while, as if he’d just realized who she was. What was he seeing? Was he marching down memory lane, too?

The drinks came, distracting him.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

“What?”

“Where you’d rather be?”

The left side of his mouth quirked up. “This is just like high school, remember?”

“The library.”

“And the bench by the fountain.”

She remembered each and every time they’d talked like this. In fact, her diaries, long relegated to the back of her closet, held almost verbatim transcripts of their discussions. Every word had been golden to her, and she’d thought him the funniest, sweetest, smartest guy in the world.

At least that had changed. Oh, he was funny and sweet and smart, he just wasn’t a deity anymore. But he sure was gorgeous. All sorts of muscles in her body contracted at that thought. She knew he was human, that he had faults, that he more than likely wasn’t the least bit suitable for her, but she didn’t care. She still wanted her night. One night where she’d catch him staring, unadulterated lust shining in his eyes. Was it too much to ask for?

“Those were good times,” he said. “I’m not sure if I ever really thanked you for your help with Cathy.”

Pop. Her bubble burst at the mention of Cathy Turner. The belle of Sheridan High, and the one person in the whole world that Emily hated. Not that she knew Cathy all that well, but every time she’d run into her over the years, Emily had been left with a bad taste in her mouth.

Cathy had been the head cheerleader, and that about said it all. Perfect little body. Perfect hair. Perfect clothes. And most annoying, a perfect boyfriend.

She waved away the thanks. “I want to hear what’s going on now.”

“I’m glad to be helping Mom out with the store, but…”

“But?”

“But the timing sucks.”

“Why?”

“I was supposed to go for an interview tomorrow. At ESPN. The sports network.”

She nodded. “An interview for what?”

He leaned in, his eyes lighting with a hint of that old inner fire. “It’s a brand-new idea. Something no one’s tried before. They’re going to send someone to all the high school teams to profile the best players, the stars of the future. And they want someone young to do it.”

“You’d be good at that.”

He nodded unselfconsciously. “I would. That’s the thing. I’d be perfect for the job, except—”

“Except you’re back here, and ESPN is in Connecticut.”

“How’d you know that?”

She smiled enigmatically. “I know everything, Scott. Don’t you remember?”

He laughed at the old joke, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Your mother, does she know?”

“Oh, no. She doesn’t have a clue.”

“And I suppose you’re not going to tell her?”

“I don’t want her to feel worse than she already does.”

“What are you going to do?”

His answer was delayed by the arrival of their waiter, finally ready to take their orders. Scott wanted a burger with all the trimmings. So did Emily, but she ordered a salad instead, dressing on the side, of course.

“I’m going to work at the store,” Scott said as soon as the waiter left. “Mom won’t sell it. I’ve already asked about that.”

“And no one else can run it for her?”

“She doesn’t trust anyone but me.”

“I understand.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if I do. I mean, why would this plum of a job fall in my lap, just to be snatched away like this? It doesn’t seem right.”

“It isn’t right or wrong, Scott. It’s not personal at all, even if it feels like it is.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried being stoic, and it works for a while. But then the reality of what I’m missing comes up and whacks me in the face.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He sat for a moment, lost in the thought of a future that wasn’t to be his, then took a big swig from his beer. “What’s your story?” he asked.

“Me? No story. I teach. I enjoy it. I’m still tight with The Girlfriends.”

“Oh, man. I haven’t thought of that in years. You guys were crazy.”

“We still are.”

“Good. Some things shouldn’t change.”

Emily watched as he leaned back in his chair and looked around the diner. There were lots of places to eat in Sheridan, but when someone asked if you wanted a cup of coffee what they really meant was if you wanted to meet them at Zeke’s Place. The service was good, the decor inoffensive if bland, and the coffee strong and pure, none of that latte half-caff for Zeke.

Emily had been coming here since she was a girl, and she’d sat in this very booth and whined about the man across from her. How he didn’t know she was alive. How he kept going out with that horrible Cathy Turner.

She’d loved him for so long, it was as much a part of her as her hair, her eyes. Why couldn’t she get over him? It would make life so much easier.