"You're still mad, so if we go to the party with him, you two will just end up fighting all night. This way, you can show up looking hot like fire and he'll chase after you the entire time," I explain.
The angry spark in Livvy's eyes is immediately replaced with an excited gleam. "That's a good idea. And you should show up at the party looking hot like fire too."
"Ugh. Why?" And who cares? I know I just thought about crushing on someone new, but I'm not ready yet. Or am I? God, I don't know.
See? I'm a typical confused mass of teenage hormones.
"Amanda!"
I whirl around to see Ryan headed our way, a reluctant Cannon walking beside him. Frowning, I call back to him. "What's up?"
They stop in front of me, Cannon shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking anywhere but at me. Weird. "Cannon asked me to ask you to go to his party tonight."
"What? I did not." Cannon shoves Ryan's shoulder, nearly toppling him to the ground. His gaze reluctantly meets mine and his smile is weak. "Ryan's full of crap."
"Okay." I draw the word out, a little thrown off by their behavior. I don't get what Ryan's trying to do. Humiliate Cannon? Humiliate me?
"Stop pretending you don't like her," Ryan says with a smirk. The murderous glint in Cannon's gaze makes me take a step back, and he wasn't even looking at me. "You should drive her home so I can talk to Livvy." Ryan turns his pleading gaze on me, oblivious to Cannon's irritation. "What do you say, Amanda?"
"Um … "
"No way," Livvy pipes up, coming to stand by my side. "I don't want to be left alone with him." She points at her boyfriend.
Ugh. Their flip-flopping relationship is exhausting.
"Come on, baby." Ryan goes to Livvy, slipping his arms around her waist and hauling her in close. "I need to talk to you."
The rest is lost in intimate murmurs and-yep, I hear lips connecting-a kiss or three. I send a sympathetic glance in Cannon's direction and he shrugs.
"I can give you a ride if you want. Unless you'd rather go with your friend," he offers, all traces of his earlier anger gone, just like that.
I part my lips, ready to turn him down, but I glance over my shoulder instead. See the way Ryan and Livvy are nuzzling each other like they're madly in love. Like they just didn't have a raging argument only a few minutes ago.
What the crap ever.
"Yes." I turn to face Cannon once more, noting the shock in his gaze. "I'll take you up on that offer. I'd really appreciate it if you could drive me home."
"Yeah. Sure. Absolutely." He bobs his head up and down like an eager puppy and takes hold of my arm, steering me toward his car.
"You're going home with Cannon?" Livvy screeches after us. Clearly my choice has stunned her.
I gently pull away from Cannon's grip and turn so I'm walking backwards. "Yes. Text me when you get home, okay?"
"I will! We'll go to the party together." She winks at me just before Ryan blocks her face with his own. As in, he's kissing her again.
Seeing them kiss makes me miss kissing a certain someone. I turn so I'm walking like a normal person.
"What was that all about?" Cannon asks, his voice low.
I shrug. "What exactly are you referring to?"
"Ryan and Livvy."
"They're fighting. Now they're making up."
"Right." He pauses. "I don't know why he said that about me wanting you at my party. It's not that I don't want you at my party, it's just … "
"I get it," I say, wanting to reassure him. He doesn't like me like that. I never thought he did. I know I don't like him like that either, so we feel the same way.
My heart-damn it-still belongs to someone else.
I climb into Cannon's huge truck and slam the passenger side door, glancing around. It's a newer vehicle and it's absolutely immaculate. Like, everything's clean, there's no leftover change in the center console cup holders, nothing hanging from the rearview mirror, not even a bit of dust or dirt on the floorboards.
Cannon hops into the car a few seconds later, scowling as he turns to look at me. "Despite what Ryan said, I don't really like you. He's full of crap."
I'm slightly taken aback by the ferocity of his tone. "Okay."
"He's an asshole for saying that." Cannon slams his door and sticks the key into the ignition like he's trying to stab something. He cranks the car on, pressing his foot against the gas so the engine roars, and all I can do is stare at him.
What the hell is going on?
"Are you mad?"
He barely looks at me. "Just frustrated. Shit's not going my way lately."
Cannon Whittaker played a terrific game tonight, so I'm not sure what he's referring to. Maybe something personal? "Like what sort of shit?"