The Lance Temptation Read Free Page B

answered. “Let’s go. Coming, Lance?”
    Lance got up. “Not so big on the game myself.”
    Why wasn’t I here with Marc like I was supposed to be? Now I was going to be left alone like a big loser.
    â€œComing, Cecily?” Lance reached out his hand to help me up. His expression was hypnotic, inviting.
    I took his hand. Even though the evening was cool, his grasp was firm and warm. I got to my feet. “And I do know Cecily’s not your name. But I like it anyway.”
    At that crazy, intoxicating moment, he could have called me Egg Salad Superstar for all I cared. He helped me down the bleachers, even though it was pretty obvious his eyes were watching every move Farah made. I couldn’t fault him. When Farah moved, everyone watched. I prayed my hand wouldn’t get clammy. I could sweat like a gymnast in under a minute — always when I was trying to impress someone.
    Being with a guy still strained my sense of balance. It wouldn’t take much to topple me over. Marc was okay, though. I was fairly relaxed around him. We had been dating for almost two months — which, at my school, was like forever. Marc wasn’t experienced either, so we kind of bumbled along together. Everyone considered us a couple. Although sometimes when I was walking with him, the word “poser” echoed in my mind.
    Last week, Marc and I had finally kissed. I’d never in a million years tell Farah, but it was a total disaster. Maybe I didn’t know what I was doing or maybe I was too self-conscious. Either way, it wasn’t close to what I saw in the movies or heard gushed about in the girls’ bathroom.
    And the second time wasn’t any better than the first. I guess a person needs more than one kiss to be an expert.
    So, being with Lance was way over the top, and I felt giddy. The fact he hadn’t let go of my hand sent actual heat up my spine. I nearly stumbled down each step, trying to keep our hands connected and to keep from falling into him. I willed myself not to sweat.
    â€œHey, Lance,” some girl yelled. It was Megan Rochester, standing and waving wildly. Lance tipped his head at her, and gave her a smile. I felt a ping in my heart and frowned. I wanted all his smiles, which was absurd considering I barely knew him and certainly had no claim on him.
    Thinking about claims, it occurred to me we were in public view, and I was supposedly Marc’s girl. Crap.
    This couldn’t go on. I needed to talk to Marc. It wasn’t right to feel this way about one guy while going out with another. I heard a commotion and then saw Jeannie lean over her friends and call out to me with a voice like an electric drill, “Hey, Emili, fancy seeing you here…”
    Lance kept pulling me down the steps. I glanced back but didn’t have a chance to answer as the cheering exploded into a frenzy.
    When we emerged from the heavy metal fence around the field, Farah made the pretense of adjusting her skirt. I knew that move. I’d seen her do it a hundred times in front of the mirror. She grasped the hem and tugged a bit; she almost always ended up hitching the skirt higher. Lance and Pete both had their eyes glued.
    Lance dropped my hand. I sighed.
    Well, it served me right. I shouldn’t have been holding his hand in the first place.
    â€œWhere’s your car?” Farah asked.
    â€œThis way.” Pete took her arm and we started across the street to the parking lot.
    What happened next was like watching a bad movie. At the entrance gate, there was Marc being let off from his parents’ blue mini-van. I did a double take. Marc had clearly said he wasn’t coming, and since when did he ever change his plans?
    For one mad moment, I almost ran over there and threw myself in his arms. Seeing him sent relief throughout my entire body. But then I realized where I was and who I was with. My relief morphed into cold dread.
    I lurched ahead to the parking lot